Page 56 of In Their Hearts
“It doesn’t have to change us, not if we don’t want it to. We can grow our love to include her.” I hesitate, but I need to know. “Do you feel anything for her?”
“Of course I do. She came into my life already important to me, because she’s important to you. But Clay, I refuse to lose you. Ever. I don’t know how she fits into our lives. I just don’t know.”
That I can work with, I need to remember he’s still living in fear of thinking I was dead.
“Grant, I’m right here. I will always be here with you. I need you just as much. My heart has room for both of you. Equally.”
I reach up and tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling him in for a kiss. I think we both need this. We need to feel our skin touching and know we are alive. To know that everything will be okay.
“Touch me. Make love to me.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I won’t break. Grant, we need each other. I need you.” I spread my legs and tug his hair to give him the hint. He hesitates only for a second.
“Tell me if anything is too much.”
“Your cock will distract me from the pain and create a welcoming ache that I miss. You know I need your cum in me. Remind me that I’m yours.”
The familiar stretch and burn as he slides slowly into me is my undoing. I love this man, and I would never hurt him. I just want him to see that I can love them both.
“Kiss me again. I need to feel all of you on my body.” His weight against me is like the warmest blanket. He thrusts slowly, deeply, while he kisses all my cuts and then my lips.
There’s no rush. No hurry to finish. The long, slow burn is just what we need right now. I need to remind him that I’m breathing, and we can get through anything together.
I let go, spurting hot cum between our bodies. My ass clenches tight around Grant’s cock, giving him the extra pressure I know he needs to go over the edge with me. I feel his cock pulse in me as he pulls me as close as we can get.
“I love you, Clay.”
“I love you too,” I murmur. “And Grant, I think you could love her someday, too.”
29
Jolee
My phone vibrates on the nightstand, but I refuse to acknowledge it. Somewhere in the back of my foggy, broken mind, I choose to ignore it.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I bury my face in the pillow.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
It doesn’t matter. I don’t move. I can’t move. I’ve already given everything today. My body, my mind, my fear, and my guilt. And it isn’t enough. Nothing is enough to take the pain away.
Each buzz is a thread pulling at me, and I cut it without thinking, without care, without hope.
When do I get a break? When will I no longer feel this way? Hasn’t it been long enough?
Clay. His voice. His worry. His hands are trying to reach me from miles away.
I can feel it, faintly. A shadow of it. But the guilt, grief, and exhaustion are heavier, pressing me down into the bed, into the darkness.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I imagine the screen lighting up. Clay’s name. Please. Pick up.
It’s a wish.
