Page 29

The corner of my mouth pulls up into a smirk as I stand at the edge of the bed, eyes trained on Cal while I fist my cock. “Keep going, Little Fawn.”

Two of his fingers continue to drill his asshole, toes curling. “Mac. Fuck. I need more.”

When he goes to grab his cock, I slap his hand away. “No fucking touching.”

He whines, and it only makes me harder, watching as his hips buck to meet his fingers. Cal’s so sensitive to prostate play, he can blow without his cock getting touched.

Love watching it happen.

The corner of my mouth turns up higher, my fist tightening around my length. “Such a needy slut. Your ass is swallowing your fingers like a starved whore.”

“Fuck me, Mac. Please.”

My jaw clenches. Hate when he goes there. Not after what happened last time.

“No.”

When he starts to pull his fingers out, I grab his wrist. “Keep going and don’t stop.”

Cal’s eyes narrow as his Adam’s apple bobs, and he continues even when his breath stutters as if holding back a sob.

If only things didn’t go sideways last time. But I won’t risk it again.

I push his legs open wider, then lean over him, wrapping my hand around both of our lengths.

He loops one leg around my waist as we simultaneously thrust into my tight grip, wetness slipping beneath our fingers.

My gaze travels from his closed eyes to his moaning mouth, then down his torso. He’s still thin. He was gone too long.

Should’ve gone after him and dragged his ass back here. But then I wouldn’t have known if he wanted to stay.

Wanted me.

I pushed too hard. Caused him pain. Something I swore I wouldn’t do. Not after his bitch of a sister stabbed herself in the neck and left him all alone.

But she’s not the only one who left. Talia did too. Broke our unit’s vow under the guise of saving our asses.

Fall as One.

We were supposed to all die together.

“Mac?”

I lift my gaze to meet his and I hate that sad, curious look he gets. Definitely like a damn deer. All wide eyed and pleading.

With a snarl, I squeeze harder, jerking us faster. “Keep fingering your ass. Love how wet you sound.”

He groans in response.

I lean down, then bite one of his nipples, flicking my tongue over the hardened bud.

“Hmph . . . Mac . . . so close.”

With my other hand, I rub the place between his balls and asshole, stimulating him from the outside. “Come for me. Show me how much you want me.”

“Fuck . . .”

Cal sprays everywhere, decorating my chest as well as his.

I keep jerking, my balls filling to the brim until I follow him over the edge, covering him with my cum, even shooting up to his neck.

Releasing us, I drop forward, and my body cages his, my forehead resting against his.

Cal huffs and pushes against my chest. “Let me go clean up.”

I lift my head, eyes narrowed. “I can do that.”

“Just . . . let me go do it.”

I sit back on my heels. “What’s the problem?”

He leans up on his elbows. “Really?”

“Not this shit again.”

I get up off the bed, then stomp toward the bathroom, Cal right on my heels. “The answer is still no.”

“So tired of the no sex rule,”

Cal says as he speedwalks by and I swear the fucker purposely stomps harder than me. “I even ask for the vibrator and you deny me that too.”

My jaw clenches, nostrils flaring. “Back off.”

“No.”

He slams the door to the bathroom, but I push it back open so hard it hits the wall and rebounds, almost hitting me in the face. Grabbing a washcloth, I wet it, then start cleaning myself up.

Of course Cal’s staring me down, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Mac, I’m sorry I ran. I don’t know how to make it right or how many times I need to apologize.”

My fingers tighten around the damp cloth, my knuckles turning white. “Said to stop. It’s my fault it all happened.”

When he touches my arm, I snap, twisting around and pinning him to the wall, my forearm against his throat. “Told you to back off.”

Instead he pushes forward. “No. You’re not walling me off. And I want you to stop denying me.”

“I’ll do what I see fit. You don’t like it, too fucking bad.”

My voice is low, threatening, like some mountain predator. He keeps pushing too much. But you can only kick a beast so many times before it bites back.

And yet . . .

The memory of his pale face, the tears, the panic when he ran away that day still haunts me. Don’t know what happened. He’d been overwhelmed and had started to cry after we fucked.

I remember Rex and Colt talking about some shit where people's emotions and minds get all mixed up. So I held him and we fell asleep. Timer went off, and I swear it was like he was having a PTSD episode.

Wasn’t sure exactly what to do. Figured he just needed some space and he’d be back. But he stayed away.

That’s when I knew I fucked up.

But I didn’t want to risk going after him only to mess his head up more, so I watched him through the scope of my sniper rifle—when I could find him. Mostly just spent those days making sure the perimeter of town was safe.

Needed to make sure no one could harm him.

Been doing it for years. Keeping him safe. It gives some meaning to my bleak, shitty existence. After Talia died nothing was the same for any of us. Maybe it's the fact the Carrionites got her and not the virus.

Or that I fucked up and missed the shot to kill the cannibal who was heading toward Rex. All hell broke loose after.

And dragging Colt from her, listening to him scream, haunts my goddamn nightmares still. I’ve lost too many people I cared about. Won’t lose my little fawn, that’s for sure.

Cal shoves against me, but I’m bigger so it’s futile. Yet he does it again. And again, going on until he’s slapping my chest. “You said I was yours, but you’re treating me differently. Stop it.”

“You are mine.”

This time I wrench his chin up, forcing his gaze to mine. “Which means I can treat you however the fuck I want.”

His brows scrunch. “Only you’re not treating me as yours. If I was, you’d at least be trying instead of being a chicken shit.”

My fingers tighten and he grimaces.

“Dammit.”

I release him, then shove past back to the bedroom and start getting dressed. I look out the bedroom door down the hall, watching as Cal has his back to me.

Not sure what kind of miracle I was expecting in a week and a half, but he still needs to gain more weight to be back to where he was before.

“Going hunting.”

Cal turns, gives me the finger, then slams the bathroom door shut again.

My fingers clench and flex a few times. Need to get out of the house. My blood is boiling. His attitude and my guilt do not play well together.

If only I hadn’t screwed up so bad, things could be different. Wouldn’t be second guessing everything I do, wondering if that would be what sends him running again.

Maybe he’s right.

He hasn’t shown any signs of wanting to leave. If anything, he goes out of his way to let me know he wants to be here.

Even when I set up a separate bedroom for him the day he came back, he shoved right past me and climbed into my bed. Been there ever since.

And every morning I wake up with him in my arms.

I rub my hands over my face. Could try meeting him halfway.

Gotta figure something out.