Loveless: A Male-Male Forbidden Romance Page 7

  I laugh, throwing my head back at her grimace. “I’d have rather you not have learned that way either,” I confirm. “I’m sorry that’s how you found out about me.”

  “Me too,” she mutters, wiping her face. Prim sits back against her headboard like she always used to, tucking her feet beneath her and covers herself with her pink comforter. “I wish you would have trusted me enough to let me in.”

  I choke up at that, feeling the burn of tears at the edge of my eyes. “What if you hated me?” I ask honestly, my heart hurting at the pictures I’d conjured the last seven years.

  She leans forward and places a hand on my knee. “You’re my dad. I’d never hate you.”

  The words are so open and honest that I’m breaking down. It’s amazing how such a simple response can bring a man to tears, but it’s the acceptance that’s making me emotional. All the years spent hiding, being unhappy, and unwilling to wreck her world for my happiness all leaks out of me.

  “Is Tex okay? He seemed really upset,” she says.

  I stare at her, remembering that I left him alone right after sleeping with him.

  “I’ve got to go,” I explain, standing up. “We can talk later?”

  She nods and shoos me.

  I’m not sure what I did to deserve such a perfect child, but I wouldn’t trade our relationship. She’s kind, considerate, and so open.

  I rush out of the room, open the guest door, and find it empty. I check the bathroom next and nothing.

  My heart beats too fast, and fear swims through me. He ran.

  After finding my keys, I rush to put on my shoes and coat before rushing out into the cool air. It’s pitch black. Clouds are hiding the moon and stars. As eerie as it is, somberness consumes me. Where would he go? We’ve only met. If anyone would know, it’d be Prim. I dial her, and she answers immediately.

  “He’s gone, isn’t he?” Her tone is sad, almost guilty, but it’s not her fault. It’s mine.

  “Do you know where he’d run if he felt cornered?”

  “He doesn’t have a home. Maybe he went to the cemetery? His mom is buried there.”

  “I’ll check. Anywhere else?”

  “I don’t think so. He always talked about how his dad hated him and his mom was the only person who cared. If he felt helpless, maybe he went to find peace?”

  “Thank you.”

  By the time I’m in my truck and back out of the drive, my worry has turned into dread. What if he isn’t at the cemetery? How will I possibly find him? Twenty-four hours ago, my biggest worry focused on a new place in Vegas. Now it’s stuck on a blue-haired prince who has stolen my heart. Why it happened so fast, so fiercely, and undeniably so, I’m not sure, but letting it slip away isn’t on the agenda.

  Once I hit Valley West Cemetery, I park and jump out. It’s even worse here. The darkness invades every crevice, expanding everywhere. Even with a little crack in the clouds, I can only see a foot or two in front of me. My phone illuminates the ground, and I see grass, graves, and rocks strewn about. The graves here range from ancient to new, back and forth, scattered in a weird pattern. The only sounds that fill my ears are the ground beneath my feet and the slow whistle of the wind. After walking for five minutes, I’m near desperate. It doesn’t help I’m not sure where her grave is or if he’s even here. Graves give me chills and an odd sense of being watched. Maybe it’s superstition, but the longer I’m here, the colder it feels.

  As I’m about to give up, I hear someone whimpering. The noise catches me off guard, but I circle my phone, searching for the source of it. When my gaze lands on a shaking form, I creep slowly, hoping it’s Tex and not some crazy rando who hangs out around dead things.

  When I get closer, I can see his blue hair clearly. Rushing him, I practically fall to get to him. His gaze shoots to me, and once the shock subsides, he stares at me in wonder. His eyes are red-rimmed, and he looks beyond exhausted.

  Touching his chin, I bring my mouth to his, needing to feel our connection, desperate for him to know I’m choosing him—us—whatever this is.

  His lips are ice and shuddering against mine. I reach for him, pulling him into my arms, enjoying the way he fits me perfectly. He feels like ice, freezing, all alone. Why did he come out here without a jacket? His hoodie isn’t enough for the biting temperatures tonight, let alone the wind and moisture in the air.

  “Why would you run, little prince? You scared me.” The words come out strained, showing how hurt I am.

  He shakes against me as I hold him. “S-She h-hates m-me,” he brokenly whispers, his teeth chattering. “My f-fault.”

  I kiss his head and help him up. “Let’s get you warm, baby.”

  HE SHAKES HARDER, AND I’m lifting him in response. I love the way he clings to me like I’m his savior. Like I’m his. I am. He can have me. Every fucked-up part.

  Carrying him to my truck takes longer than coming out here. Navigating without the light is miserable, but I try to watch my steps, hoping to not disturb any area. When we make it there, I open the door, and he raises himself in. After I close the door, I jump to my side and start the engine, turning the heater on. He shivers as my hands rub up and down his arms to warm him.

  “Primrose doesn’t hate you, Texas,” I finally state.

  She doesn’t. If anything, she’s more upset with herself for caring about us being together because you’re her best friend, than us being together because we’re gay.

  “She just felt like she lost us both in one night.”

  He eyes me with an I don’t believe you expression that has me smiling.

  “I’d never lie to you.”

  It’s true.

  I’ll always be open and honest.

  It’s my vow.

  “Do you hate me now? For hurting your relation—” he starts apologizing, but I interrupt.

  “Never. I’d never hate you, Texas. You didn’t hurt anything, baby. If anything, you fixed it, bridging a gap I set by keeping my sexuality from her. She’ll be okay. Time is all she needs.”

  “You called me baby twice,” he murmurs softly, his face a little flushed. Whether it’s from the nickname or the cold, it’s a good color on him.

  “That’s because, in this short time, you’ve become everything to me,” I admit. “It’s fast, I know, but—”

  He stops me. “I feel the same way.”

  We lean in at the same time, bringing our lips together. It’s not erogenous, but quick and furtive.

  “I love you, Texas Silver. If that makes me a mad man, then I’m a fucking lunatic.”

  He chuckles, capturing my jaw reverently. “I love you too, Devin Loveless. Even if your last name is a lie.”

  Epilogue

  DEVIN

  Loveless. An eight-letter word.

  The mentality that there’s no love in the heart.

  What a lie our last name is.

  Texas and Devin Loveless, two men fated for one another.

  Subconsciously, I roll my ring between my thumb and forefinger, loving the weight of it. It’s heavy almost, but a good kind of heavy.

  When Whit and I married, it felt like a shackle, a suffocating device that hid me from the world and everything I wished for but couldn’t obtain.

  My little prince and I tied the knot six months ago. We flew to California and had a beach wedding. We eloped last minute, and Prim came to the celebration dinner to congratulate us both.

  It’s beautiful seeing my husband love my daughter as ferociously as I do. Even now, they’re best friends, just more open than before. Tex and I moved to Vegas after our honeymoon, Prim decided to stay and build her own path. She still visits us. Me and Tex started helping with Loveless so Dusty can breathe. We cut the Drink More portion of the title before opening and made it one word. It’s already one of the biggest party spots on the strip. With how fast it’s rising up, I’ll be expanding across the US in no time.

  “Dreading the fact that you can’t run from me, bartender?” Tex muses, leaning aga
inst the door frame of our balcony, his shirtless abs flexing as he interrupts my overwhelmed mind.

  I can’t help but stare at his chest and the newest tattoo that matches mine, covering our hearts. Love More not Less. My perusal doesn’t stop there, though. It’s stuck on the little black piercings begging to be pleasured.

  With my mouth.

  He smirks, biting his lip slowly. “How can I taunt you when you look at me like that?” he asks sheepishly, his face flushing.

  Even after a year, I can still make him blush.

  He runs a hand through his light sandy blond hair. After the blue and black started to fade, he stripped the color and went to a baser tone that matched as close as his natural hair as he could. In a way, I miss the blue and black, but this makes his honey eyes almost seem inhuman. They’re vibrant, endless, and perfect. The sun shines on us as we stare at each other, waiting for one to make a move.

  Instead of answering, I rise off the lounger and stroll toward him like he’s the prey. Maybe he is, or maybe he’s been the hunter this entire time. Guess it’s time to test that theory, huh?

  “We both know you’re the one stuck.”

  He stares at me in awe. It’s something I haven’t quite gotten used to.

  I lick his throat, making sure to nip my favorite spot where his shoulder and neck connect, and he moans.

  “Being adventurous, Mister Loveless?” he asks.

  “Feeling daring, Mister Loveless?” I return with a smirk.

  His smile reaches his eyes. No more is my boy sad. No, he thrives, lives, and wants to watch as the sun shines on his face.

  “I’m willing to try anything with you,” he whispers in my ear, making goosebumps erupt over my skin.

  I pull away then grab his hand, leading us to our bedroom. Tex wanted to be trendy—hipster-like if you will—and convinced me to buy a circle rotating bed. You’d be amazed at how good the sex is when you’re more than dick dizzy.

  I push him onto the bed. It spins a little, and we chuckle. It’s not exactly something you get used to, rather you make use of the advantages and wing it.

  “I’ve never done this,” I finally say, going to our toy drawer for lube. When I find it, my heart hammers like a caged beast wanting to break free.

  “And what’s that?” he questions, not reading into my posture, fear, or still frame.

  I finally turn to him and feel my face and body heat. It’s a mixture of excitement and nervousness. I’ve always topped. Even with Tex. Not once has the need or desire to switch consumed me. If anything, the fear ebbed any type of desire toward it. Now, with his tattoo-laden body open for me, I want to give that to him. He always seems in pure rapture when I’m deep in him, pushing hard and harder, and now, it’s an experience that’s tempting me.

  “I want you to fuck me, little prince.”

  His eyes snap to mine, honey zeroing in on amber, like they’ll tell him whether I’m lying or not. As if he has found the answer, he rises to his feet and comes to me. The absolute yearning on his face makes my cock thicken, pushing against my board shorts. When I look at his gym shorts, his erection is noticeable, tenting, begging me.

  “Say it again,” he grits, his voice deep and predatory. He holds my jaw, unwilling to drop my gaze.

  “I want you to fuck me,” I nearly hiss as he’s gripping my shaft tightly. His thumb rubs the head of my cock leisurely, teasing me.

  “Get on the fucking bed,” he growls. It’s sexy and grumpy, almost like he’s waited our entire relationship for this moment, and maybe he has.

  He turns us and walks me backward until I fall to the bed. He eats me alive with his unabated hunger, roaming my skin like a metal detector, not missing a single inch.

  My husband hovers me before taking the lube bottle from my hand. Then, he’s kissing me. Texas is a helluva kisser. He takes and takes and takes, and when you think he’s done, he takes a little bit more.

  I cave into his lips, his thrall, and moan when he starts lowering my boxers. His mouth leaves mine to tease my throbbing dick the way I crave. Licking from tip to the base, all the way to my balls, making sure to suck along the way, he pleasures me.

  “Fuck,” I grind out as he sucks my sack in his mouth.

  He pops off, trailing his tongue to the crease of my ass. As he lifts my thighs, I can’t help but hiss. Tex has rimmed me several times. It’s always tortuously slow as if he’s savoring me. With each swipe of his tongue, I feel like I’m coming undone. When he breaches the tight ring, a loud growl escapes me. It’s almost pained, desperate for more.

  “Let me show you how I worship my king.”

  As soon as the words leave his mouth, he’s deep-throating me and teasing my hole with a wet finger. He doesn’t push in, only presses against it, making me buck toward him. With a loud slurping sound, he’s taking my balls again, all while grabbing the lube. My prince knows how to use his mouth and hands in tandem.

  I’m delirious when he finally sinks a single digit in me. There’s a little pinch, but as he taunts me to the brink of orgasm, I’m too high to care. He adds a second finger and sucks me slowly at the same time. The roughness of his hand mixed with the velvet of his tongue bring me near combustion. As he senses it, he stops his cock ministrations, adds a third finger, and presses into my prostate like it’s a video game.

  “Fucking Christ,” I groan, squeezing his hand.

  “Close enough,” he jokes. “Relax for me, baby.”

  I do, and he eases his fingers out.

  “Look at me.” It’s a command, a frenzied one.

  I do. His honey eyes are brighter than I’ve ever seen them.

  “Watch me worship you.”

  And he eases into me, his cock breaching easily. It only stings until I fully relax. Once he’s seated in me, the frantic thirst filling my veins has me wiggling.

  “Move,” I hiss, needing the friction, the heat, the pleasure-pain.

  “Can’t. Going to come if I do.” It’s barely a breath, coming out strained.

  He inhales, and I start stroking my dick, needing something. His eyes darken, watching me work myself over.

  “Fuck it,” he barks, and then he’s moving in me. It’s hard and hot. Perfect. So perfect.

  “Ah, fuck,” I moan, panting as I try to rub myself off.

  He pulls out, bringing barrenness I’m not used to. Laying down next to me, he turns his head my way. “I want you to take, husband. Sit on my cock and top me from the bottom.” His gaze flames when I take his mouth, sucking on his lip ring in the process.

  Rising to my feet, I grab the bottle of lube and pour it on his dick. It’s red and angry, probably so close to the edge he won’t last long. Mine is pointed straight forward, angrier, needier, barely holding onto its seed. He watches me as I ghost over him, and when I line him up to my ass, his gaze finally drops, and the hiss he lets out only gets louder as I sink onto him.

  “Fist my cock, little prince. Don’t come until I say.”

  “Fuck, that’s going to be hard,” he complains, gripping my length in his palm, pouring lube over his hand a second later.

  “Whoever comes first has to deal with Darcy,” I wager, making him narrow his eyes. Darcy is our most talkative and obnoxious bartender. She works well, but she never shuts up.

  “Deal. We both know who can’t stand her more,” he mocks, thrusting upward and forcing me to flatten my hands on his abs as chills break out over my flesh. This is where they belong, worshiping his body, bringing him rapture, and taking whatever they damn well please.

  I use his muscles as leverage, rise on his swollen rod, and slam back down. This time, it’s both of us who groan.

  Adjusting to this new position, I test the rise and fall of my hips, using my thighs to lift. My little prince has sweat all over his chest, matching the wetness on my spine.

  We move together, our synced noises flirting the edge of abandon. When he rotates as I go down, he hits my prostate, and it’s game over for us both. I practically boun
ce on him, holding myself up with one arm and grabbing his balls with the other. His pace on my cock quickens, and he squeezes harder, making me see every fucking color.

  It doesn’t take long before spots blur my vision. “Come for me, little prince. Fill me up.”

  He detonates. I feel him jerk in me, and that sets me off. My cum splashes on him in long ropes, shooting farther and farther with each continued pump. When we’re both panting and exhausted, he takes a drag through my release and brings it to my mouth.

  “Suck,” he croaks.

  And I do, licking his fingers until he’s whimpering. Lifting off of him, I bring our mouths together and make him taste our shared love.

  “Now, that’s how you top a bottom,” he wheezes, nipping my lip.

  “Correction. That’s how you do a proper switch,” I tease, pinching his nipple.

  “I love you, my king,” he promises, putting a hand over my heart and tattoo.

  I repeat his action over his heart and ink, and amber meets honey. “I love you too, little prince. More, not less.”

  The End

  Acknowledgements

  To my husband, as always, for loving me the way I am. No matter what, he’s always here, supportive, and loving.

  #TeamTrashPanda, you guys have made this release phenomenal. I love you all.

  To my PAs, Brittany and Cass, you both have changed my life.

  My author friends, my readers, and all the bloggers who loved and shared their love for Dev and Tex, I appreciate you!

  To my editor, thank you for making my characters not be so messy.

  C.L. Matthews lives in lala-landia with her husband and invisible friends. She wants to riot the lack thereof authentic Mexican food in her state, but she’s an introvert at heart. She enjoys tacos, Red Bull, and warm water, because she’s crazy. She’s an oddball, and realizes it’s been mentioned before, just go with it. Her joys in life consist of writing unconventional romances, making book covers, causing havoc to her reader’s hearts, and genre hopping when she needs a change of scenery. She’s a special kind of weird and enjoys every moment of it.