Loveless: A Male-Male Forbidden Romance Page 5

  It’s honest, truthful. My sad boy. Him coming into my bar with a solemnness that fit mine changed everything. It shouldn’t. Happenstance doesn’t define anything, but last night, it did.

  “That’s why I was up all night,” he whispers against my throat. “That and my rock-hard dick wanting more of you.”

  A groan leaves me like a wish, and my patience and need to be subtle snaps like a fucking rubber band. One second, he’s against me, and the next, I’m flipping him on his back, taking what’s mine.

  “Fuck,” he hisses when I find his piercing through his hoodie. I bite and tug almost too roughly, unable to stop the greediness filling my veins.

  Sitting up, I undo his jeans, trailing them down his thighs. No boxers again. My eyes meet his, and he fucking smirks, playing with his lip ring in amusement. He’s hard and ready for me. With a teasing grin of my own, I take him into my mouth in the next breath, and he’s swearing unintelligibly. From his balls to his shaft and up the veiny length of him, I lick.

  Tasting him.

  Savoring his unique flavor.

  Absorbing all he gives

  All of him.

  Salty. Sweet. Perfect.

  Him.

  My little prince.

  My Texas.

  My sad boy.

  He makes this choked noise when I grab his balls, massaging and tugging on them in a way that I know feels good. Sucking him all the way to the back of my throat, I groan at him leaking. It’s making me ravenous.

  “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he bites out as I feather his tip with my tongue.

  He grips my head, and I can’t tell if he’s trying to stop me or make me go faster, but I grip his shaft and move it up and down in tune with my mouth’s pull.

  “Gonna come.”

  The gritty way he says it nearly has me coming in my pants. I take him in another deep tug as he shoots down my throat. I’m not stopping until every drop is gone and in me. It’s mine. Just like him.

  I’m only popping off when his tang slicks my mouth. With a leisure lick across the slit of his head, I smirk.

  “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  The sedated look on his face and how flushed he seems only makes me want to do it over and over until the memory sticks. Tucking him away, I crawl up him and steal his mouth. He doesn’t hesitate to lick inside mine. My little prince is going to kill me. I know it.

  As soon as I’m backing away, the sound of a car’s door closing echoes. Primrose. I jump into action, wiping my mouth of drool and straightening my clothes.

  Looking at Texas, I notice he needs to fix himself. “Bathroom. She’s back.”

  His eyes widen, and he stands.

  “It’s the last door on the right.”

  It’s not. It’s my room, and that’s where I want him. My bathroom. My room. And if I wanted to deny why I want him in there, I could, but it has everything to do with his scent mixing with mine and seeing him in my space.

  Instead of waiting on bated breath, I rush outside to help Primrose bring in the groceries, hoping my face doesn’t indicate how little I showed Texas around the house and instead took pleasure in him once again.

  “Need help?” I offer, wishing to seem normal.

  Why am I like this? Why can’t I come out and say I want that guy in my house?

  “Thank you!” she chirps happily.

  She’s such a bright light. So happy. She’s constantly smiling and wanting the best for everyone.

  Let’s hope Texas is cleaned up by the time I’m back inside.

  Chapter Seven

  TEXAS

  Fate. A four-letter word. Something out of the control of all parties involved.

  Happenstance. A twelve-letter word. Something that just seemed to happen.

  Both have similar traits. One defines Devin and me, and the other is the bar. It just so happened to have occurred there. Maybe all this time that I was alone, lost, and unable to control my future was fate working for me. That run-in with Prim on a random sad afternoon, a domino in the race of life.

  Now, me being caught and kicked out, it’s all falling into place for some reason.

  Maybe I’m meant to be happy.

  To find love and peace in a man.

  Maybe I’m not sick or broken, just lost. Lost until my bartender found me.

  Last door on the right, he told me. I open the door. He wanted me to come in here, and I can see why. Devin’s room is black and smoky, all full yet empty. There’s something missing from the space, a disposition I understand. He’s been isolated for years. It shows in the lack of pictures on the charcoal gray walls and the way his black sheets are fitted and topped with a black comforter, showing no color or life.

  Someone with a vibrant daughter reflects how my soul feels inside perfectly. I’m smiling yet still feeling somber, seeing how alone he must feel on a daily basis.

  Making my way around the room, I pass his massive closet that could be its own room before spotting the bathroom. My hands meet the brass of the knob, and when it opens, the huge room inside takes my breath away. Dad and I lived a small life, less than comfortable but not bad enough to be entirely miserable. This bathroom alone is the size of my living room back at home. It has a huge shower that could fit five people, a huge tub possibly with jets, I don’t know, and a double sink vanity. I’ve never seen anything so elegant in person.

  Everything is colored black and white, cool tones, and all modern. I swear my dick jumps out at this. Didn’t realize that could happen. It’s probably the visual of what I just did with Devin and what I could easily see myself doing to him in this bathroom.

  The thought rots soon, turning into negativity like all my thoughts tend to do.

  Is this the same bathroom his wife was in? My stomach cramps. You know that feeling of melancholy, the one that comes regardless of knowing all the facts, just for the sake of your heart getting in the way? That’s me. My mind. How much I allow myself to believe I don’t deserve to be happy.

  I’m very aware that he doesn’t enjoy women. It’s obvious that there are only men in his heart and mind, but knowing he could have and possibly did live here his entire marriage, raising Prim and loving her makes me very sad. Very fucking depressed, really. Did they fuck in here and in that room?

  Stop, I chastise myself. It’s over now. It happened before me. I didn’t and don’t have any claim on this man, even if everything in me says otherwise. He’s mine.

  After taking a few minutes to calm my jealous heart and fix my clothes, I creep out of the room to hear Prim and Devin having a conversation.

  “He’s the best, Dad. We met by chance a year ago, and he’s the best thing to happen to me,” she explains with awe.

  My chest seizes up. Does she... have a crush on me? An icky feeling invades my senses. Fuck. Am I that naive to think we could be friends and she’d be okay with it?

  “Does he feel that way too?” Devin questions.

  She may not see anything in it, but I hear the green monster. Just experienced it myself.

  “I don’t think so, but it’s okay. He’ll eventually like me, right? He doesn’t date, ever. What if he’s waiting for me to make a move?”

  Everything I worried about comes to head when she admits that. No. Nothing will change. I don’t date for my own safety and peace. It’s not because I’m waiting. Or maybe it wasn’t, and now Devin has come along, throwing that notion out the window.

  “Sweetheart,” he stops her from explaining how we’re best friends. “I don’t think love works that way.”

  “What do you mean?” Her voice sounds so far off, like she’s in the clouds, high on this idea of happiness that no one can take away.

  “Love comes when you least expect it. Instead of searching, it finds you. It slams into you at random moments, first by hitting you in the gut and tugging at the strings inside you that hold all your feelings, and in the end, making sure you realize it’s real. You cannot force love out of someone. It works against that.”


  “That kind of makes sense,” she finally responds. “Is that how it was with you and Momma?”

  I grimace, not wanting to hear it.

  “No, baby. It didn’t. Your mom and I had a different companionship. We loved each other so much, but we were never in love. Love found her when Nick came into the picture. He loved her like I couldn’t. He made her feel like she was the only person in the room. They are soul mates.”

  “What if that’s me and Tex?”

  I hear him let out a long breath, and I realize I’m letting one out with him too, virtually sending him support for this next part.

  “If he felt how you do, Primrose, I don’t think he’d hide it. You’re too beautiful and lively to avoid.”

  She scoffs. “You have to say that. You’re my dad.”

  He chuckles. “I might be your dad, Prim, but I’m right. Tex wouldn’t hide his feelings. I’ve just met the kid, and I can already tell you he’d seep love. He’d show you his sadness, the soft center of his being, and express it entirely.”

  She sniffles, and my heart aches. I hope she’s not crying. I would feel like the biggest shit. “I-I get it.” She hiccups. “I just love him.”

  There’s shuffling, and I’m sure Devin pulls her into his arms, the same arms that make me feel safe. “I know, baby. I think he loves you too. I do. Just not in the way you hope.”

  “Thank you for listening, Daddy.”

  “I’ll listen whenever you need. No matter how big you get, you’ll always be my little girl.”

  Warmth and grief fill me, seeping through as it overflows with emotions I’m not used to having. He’s such a good dad. If my father was even an ounce as loving as Devin, I probably never would be as empty as I am.

  After swiping the shed emotion from my eyes, I interrupt them. “What’s wrong?” I ask, but Devin can tell I already know. Nothing fools that man. Guess I’m found out then.

  “Nothing,” Prim answers, wiping her face. “Just needed a cry.”

  I pull her into my chest, hoping to give her all the love I can, the only love I can give. Usually, I avoid skin contact, affection, and emotional moments, but she needs this, and I can give it to her.

  “Thank you for being my best friend, Prim.”

  She shakes with new tears, and I hold her as Devin watches. Something in his face tells me he needed this as much as she did, like there may have been a disconnect, and now it’s patched up.

  “Let’s make those nasty rabbit sandwiches,” I mutter.

  Devin’s eyebrow raises skeptically at me.

  I laugh, tipping my head back. It feels so good to do so.

  Prim punches my arm and glares at me. “It’s not rabbit sandwiches, Tex. You big brat. It’s vegetarian cuisine.”

  We all burst out in amusement at that. Prim makes these inedible sandwiches with random food she finds and puts almost an entire head of lettuce on it, ketchup, mayo, mustard, you name it, and I’ve even noticed her with peanut butter on there before. She always brings one when we get a late drink from Grounders. It’s the most despicable thing I’ve witnessed.

  “If you say so, Prim. I’m going to just pretend it’s edible to make you smile.”

  She giggles, covering her face. “I can’t. I’ve got spin class in thirty. Don’t worry, though. I got you and Daddy some meat.”

  We both look at each other and then smile, enjoying the moment together.

  Chapter Eight

  DEVIN

  Primrose leaves, and we eat lunch in silence. I know he heard our conversation. It was plain as day on his face.

  I don’t know how to move forward with this when she’s in love with him. Dads are supposed to be the last person to break their child’s heart, and eventually, it’ll come out. Feeling the way I do and seeing him feel it too, it’s bound to destroy her.

  Do I keep my distance?

  Is it okay to dive in with someone nearly half my age for love?

  It’s love. It has to be.

  You can’t stumble into something this brutal if it’s not meant to be, right?

  After about four hours, Primrose comes through the door. The sun has already set, and I’m not entirely sure how time flew by so quickly. Being lost in the mind erases it altogether.

  “Hey, Dad. How did it go while I was gone?” She’s in her yoga pants and a loose tank. She’s flushed but smiling.

  Something about working out gives me the same peace of mind. Pushing my body to its limit has always given me a type of satisfaction that equates to success. She’s like me in that sense.

  “He’s been in his room. I think he has a lot on his mind,” I offer, not knowing whether that’s true or not.

  She nods and then heads toward his room. Jealousy flares to life. If I was a better man, I would tell her. If I was better at this, I would also be the one with him, comforting him.

  But I’m not, and she is.

  When Texas lets her in and she disappears, I ball my hands into fists. I’m not angry or annoyed with her. No, I’m angry with myself. This would have been easier if I didn’t ask Whit to lie. She would have had the conversation with Primrose too, and it would have changed how I feel at this very moment.

  Pulling out my cell, I call her. She’s the only person I can talk to. She understands. She’s forgiving, and she will know what to do.

  “Dev?” her voice sounds out from the other end.

  “Hey, Whit. Got a minute?”

  I hear a door closing and then she’s back.

  “What’s up?” She sounds concerned, which only makes me love her more. We were best friends for so long. It’s why I trusted her to have sex with. I don’t want Texas and Prim to go through that. It would kill me.

  “I think I’m in love?” It comes out like a question, and I hear a small chuckle from Whit.

  “Sounds like you’re as unsure as I am if that’s a statement or question.”

  I laugh derisively, hating myself at this moment. She’s easy to talk to, yet this is the hardest thing I’ve ever discussed.

  “I met someone last night.”

  “Last night? That must be why Rosie called sounding upset. Did you not come home?”

  Whit knows me too well, almost better than I know myself. She waits for me to answer, also understanding me enough to know I need a moment.

  “I didn’t. Fell asleep at the bar,” I explain, running a palm through my hair and tugging a little to ground myself. She must be nodding. She and Prim have that in common. They nod, forgetting they’re on the phone and not in person.

  “You remember when I met Nick, right?”

  Her question is airy with that feeling of nostalgia and romance. She’s such a romantic at heart. How she stayed so long is beyond me.

  Not waiting for my answer, she continues, “We were both in Olvier for that night, me for that deposition, him because he needed an escape.”

  I remember this story like yesterday. She called me right after it happened, asking me what to do.

  “You guys bumped into each other in the lobby of Fort Inn Plaza,” I offer. “He caught you as you tripped over his bag, trying to read the map in your hand.”

  She giggles at my explanation. It’s such a light sound coming from her. The happiness-filled noise makes me grin wider than I have in a while.

  “You were in his arms, and he kissed you, said he couldn’t help himself—”

  She cuts me off. “Technically, he asked. Said, ‘you’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. Can I kiss you?’ Of course I laughed, but I could see how serious he was, and I nodded.”

  “You ran away.” I chuckle, remembering that. “Called me for advice. Said you’ve never felt this way before. He practically whisked you off your feet.”

  “I knew right then and there. Even though I was scared and calling you, I knew. Yeah, it was a simple kiss. Maybe even a cheesy love at first sight thing, but I felt it then. I still feel it now.”

  Her story, the memory of it was exactly what I needed.
r />   “Thank you, Whit.”

  “You’re welcome, Dev. Don’t let him go. You deserve to find love, too.”

  The shit-eating grin won’t leave my face as we hang up and I think of my little prince and his honey eyes.

  It’s getting late, really late.

  When I open my bedroom door, I notice the lights are off everywhere besides the living room. Prim sits cuddled in blankets, watching her favorite teen drama, Riverdale. How I can remember the name? I can’t tell you, but she spent hours explaining the entire plot to me and how much she loved Cheryl. I don’t know who Cheryl is, but my daughter thinks she’s cool.

  I sneak over to the room Texas now homes and don’t knock before entering. It’s silent as I close the door without a sound. Turning around, I see him in the dimly lit room, laying on his back with his arm over his eyes. His ears are plugged with earbuds, and he must not hear me.

  For a moment, I take advantage of the opportunity to just watch him, relaxed, on a big bed, only a lamp on to light the room. He seems less depressed like this. It’s almost like my sad boy needs the quiet for peace and has a hard time finding it.

  I walk toward Texas, enjoying the view of him with only jeans on. His tattoos that I never paid attention to last night are completely visible now. One day, I’ll ask him what they mean. Sometimes, they mean nothing. Other times, they have stories.

  Unable to help myself, I stare at his hard chest and the plains and dips of his muscles that lead to his pebbled, pierced nipples. They may be my favorite part of his body. The little black barbells make me do crazy things.

  My eyes travel to the first bruise or, rather, hickey. Which is still a bruise, just the enjoyable kind. There are many littered all over his throat, chest, and his ear. I just can’t see that one with his hair covering it.

  He goes to move, his arms raising, when he notices me. His body jolts a little, making the bed squeak before he pulls out his music. Placing a finger to my lips, I hush him. A look of understanding crosses his face as he adjusts and sits up. I’m vaguely aware that I’m moving closer to him, reluctant to keep my distance. Sitting on the lip of the bed closest to him, I go to talk but end up opening and closing my mouth several times.