Page 58 of Haunted

“I boiled it,” he says, like he can read the question on my face. “Pulled the bristles, dropped it in a pot till the plastic went soft, then curled it around my wrist and held it there till it set. Took me a few tries.”

I am undone.

He sat at my table for twenty minutes and dug splinters out of his own palm one-handed rather than let me near that wrist.

Every day for the past decade he has put this bracelet on his wrist. Through India and back. Through every country, every vlog, every morning. He has carried me with him and never said a word.

Our eyes meet. His face is open, vulnerable, stripped of every defense he’s built over ten years.

“Wait,” I say. I pull my wallet from the counter behind me and hold it out to him. “Open it.”

He takes it, confused. He flips it open and goes still. Inside, behind the plastic window where a family photo would go, is a drawing—not the pencil original, but a copy, professionally reduced and laminated down to fit a wallet. A knight in a full suit of armor, no helmet, a sword raised against a background of fire and chaos, drawn to look like the hero in a movie. In the corner, the signature I watched him write ten years ago. It’s the best thing Parker Bishop ever drew and he doesn’t know I’ve carried it every day since.

“The original is framed,” I say. “At my parents’ house. It’s—” I stop, because the word that wants to come out is “sacred,” and I’m not sure I can say that without my voice breaking. “It’s not something I can part with.”

He stares at the drawing. Then he looks at the Kermit bracelet on his wrist. Then he looks at me.

“This is a bad idea,” he says.

I say nothing. I can’t say anything.

“This is the worst idea,” he says.

I stroke the plastic of his bracelet. “Jonny,” I say. His name sounds like music on my tongue. “Jonny.”

He closes the wallet and puts it down on the table. He takes a breath. And then, very deliberately, he puts his hands on either side of my face and kisses me.

Chapter twenty

Jonny

Ican’t stop. I should stop, but I can’t. It’s like being on the top of the rollercoaster as it starts to rock forward, in the few seconds when it’s starting to pick up speed and you’re holding on for dear life. But then Lance circles his arms around me and kisses me back, and the rollercoaster car pitches forward, and I’m falling. One of his hands is on the back of my neck, the other is roaming over my back. And now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. I back him up until the back of his legs hit his bed, I push him back onto the mattress. For a second, I think he’ll drag me along with him, but instead, he lets go. He lands on the bed and props himself up on his elbows, staring at me hungrily. “Off,” he demands.

I resist. He can demand all he wants, but I am suddenly acutely conscious that it’s all my choice to obey him or tease him. I feel totally in control, just to see him falling over his words like this. And it goes to my head like a sugar high. “What, with this?” I lift the front flap of the sweatshirt he lent me to reveal my tank top and the look on his face makes me feel like I’m a movie star. For the first time in my life, I feel porn-star level hot.

“All of it. Off.” He peels off his shirt and throws it to the side without looking and then hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his sweats. I straddle him before he can yank them down and slowly take off my shirt and tank top in one motion. I watch as he focuses on my tattoos, his eyes hungrily tracing every line. He slides his fingers along the outline of the phoenix running up my arm.

If there were any brakes on this train, they’re long gone. I push him back down and kiss him, marveling in the feel of him underneath me. He pulls at my sweatpants, and his, and I have a vague feeling of them being kicked away. All I know is the feel of our bodies touching from top to toe.

There’s no time for prep work or foreplay. I grab his cock and milk it with my hands. I’m rewarded when he arcs his back and whispers my name. He beckons me to kiss him again. I do. He squeezes and touches me everywhere he can get his hands on—my midriff, the backs of my thighs, my ass.

I pull away, gasping for air. “I’m a top,” I manage.

“Fine,” he says, and pulls me back to him, and I’m so surprised I don’t even think about resisting or maintaining the semblance of control that I had until now. I’ve been telling myself that this would be the red line that Lance would never cross, but apparently, I’m wrong.

He rolls me over onto my back and kisses down my chest, and then engulfs my cock in his mouth. I yelp and it’s everything I can do not to fuck into him, but he’s doing all the work himself.

“Lance,” I whisper. I want him to stop before I come and shame myself with the shortest fuck in human history. He backs off and lets me out of his mouth.

“You have to—” I start.

“No. Tonight you can fuck me blind, but I’ve waited for this too long. Right now, you are coming.” He lifts my cock and jams it into his mouth without breaking eye contact.

I whimper and strain, trying to deny him the orgasm, but he’s good at what he’s doing, and I’m no match for his determination. When I finally feel it boiling out of me, I try one last time to pull him off but he sinks in, staring at me defiantly as my body starts to spasm. I clutch the sheets and shout as I orgasm, and when it’s over, I collapse into a limp puddle. I look at him. He’s taken it all.

“Kiss me,” I demand. He crawls up and kisses me. His mouth has the familiar metallic taste of semen. I push him onto his back. “Now, you.” I crouch next to him and swallow his cock, determined to show him that he’s not the only one who’s learned a thing or two in the past couple of years.

He moans and calls my name, pressing my head down against his cock. He’s less reserved than I was, and when he starts to fuck my face, I don’t fight it. It’s swift and urgent, and when he comes, he doesn’t try to pull off like I did. No, he’s straight down my throat, and it feels like he’s given me about a gallon of it before he’s done. The second he’s done, he drags me up and kisses me again. He hooks his arm around my waist and stares at me.