Regret (Under My Skin Book 1) Page 6

  As I parked in front of the apartment and strolled up the lighted sidewalk to the main entrance, what I wouldn’t give to be heading to my own condo and bed instead of that lumpy futon with only enough room for one person—not that I was complaining. But not being in my own space was starting to get old. Especially being in forced proximity to Nick at any given time.

  And speak of the devil, when I got inside, I was surprised to see Nick on the couch with a beer in one hand and an Xbox controller in the other. He looked freshly showered—or bathed, if I believed Elijah’s story about Nick’s spa treatments—because his hair was perfectly coiffed and he had on a clean pair of sweats and T-shirt. “What are you doing home so early?”

  “Gorgeous guy—really nice—but no chemistry.” I shrugged. “We could probably be friends, though.”

  For some reason, it gave me a thrill of satisfaction to see the instant relief on Nick’s face, which was all kinds of fucked up. I left out the part about Kam’s breakup because it was not my business to tell. Especially if Nick ever met Elijah’s friend in the future.

  “Thought it was only a hookup,” Nick replied and I noticed the tension in his voice as he gripped the beer bottle tighter.

  “You still need chemistry to fuck somebody,” I replied and when his lips parted and his eyes blazed, I had the urge to straddle him right there on the couch. Or strangle him. Maybe a combo of both. Jesus.

  “You definitely need chemistry,” he mumbled, as his eyes lingered on my lips and then lazily slid up to meet my gaze. We had never kissed, Nicholas Dell and I. But maybe that would’ve only wrecked me more.

  His gaze practically soldered to mine and I had trouble looking away.

  His thumb brushing beneath my eyelash.

  I like when you wear this, brings out the gray in your eyes.

  Dragging my gaze away, I glanced down to shuck off my shoes at the door and casually adjust my half-chub.

  It was time to get my ass to bed. By myself.

  “What are you playing?” I asked, as he placed his beer down and lifted the controller again. I was mostly curious as to what was keeping his attention so late, when other nights he would’ve already retreated to his room.

  I couldn’t help wondering if he was waiting up for me, which was ridiculous.

  “Black Ops 3,” he said, reaching for the second controller and holding it out to me. I had only ever watched Elijah play Skyrim in the last few days and right now I could definitely use a shoot-’em-up type of game.

  With little more consideration, I grabbed the controller and sat down beside him on the couch, making sure to keep some distance between us.

  11

  Nick

  “Ah shit. Revive me,” I said in a frantic voice, hoping like hell time didn’t run out before Brin’s guy got to me in the game.

  “There you go,” he said as his character guarded me from the zombies while he held down the button on the controller that would resuscitate me. “Whew, close call.”

  We played for the better part of an hour and it felt like we were simply a couple of friends shooting the shit and getting along, without any baggage from our pasts weighing us down and creating animosity between us.

  It made me want to play catch-up with him and find out what he’d been up to all of these years. It also made me miss the adorable kid I had crushed on hard and looked forward to seeing every day in the halls and especially one-on-one.

  “You still into those comics?” I asked as he slaughtered more zombies in his path.

  I noticed how his fingers faltered on the controller as if I’d surprised him by remembering his collection. “Yeah, I have the box locked away in my trunk to save them from the water damage.”

  “Oh shit, I forgot about that,” I said, throwing him a quick sidelong glance. “Glad you were able to protect them.”

  After we both were killed by an onslaught of zombies we sat in silence on the couch, seemingly in a contented bubble. The only light came from a small lamp near the love seat and the television, the blue screen blank from the game being turned off.

  I was tired from the work week and the beers I drank while I waited for Brin to come home, too on edge knowing he was meeting another guy. When he walked through the door alone, the relief I felt, no matter how unfounded, was immense. I knew I should head to bed, but I didn’t move a muscle. Instead, I sat reveling in the moment—however brief it was—that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t totally despise me.

  “Why’d you do it?” he asked after another quiet beat. “You didn’t have to tell Elijah anything. You could’ve just played it off. I was an asshole for putting you on the spot like that.”

  “To prove I’m not exactly in the closet,” I explained. “Maybe to my family I am, but not…to everyone. A couple of friends from school know. It just never came up with Elijah, I guess.”

  “So...you’re bisexual?” he asked, as he nervously played with the hem of his T-shirt.

  “I guess. I’ve hooked up with my share of men over the years, just nothing serious. Nothing serious with anybody,” I muttered as he watched me closely. “I don’t really know. Like I said, I’ve still got a bunch of shit to work out.”

  “Don’t we all,” he mumbled, as he sank against the cushions, his eyes drowsy.

  I left out the part where I was mostly into men. They comprised my every fantasy. I simply wasn’t brave enough to admit it out loud. Besides, it went against everything I was trying to make up for in my life. I wasn’t living for me. I was living for them.

  I could feel the heat from Brin’s arm and his knee resting a hairsbreadth away and somehow it made me want to just curl up right there and—what? Simply be with him, I supposed. Talk and laugh and enjoy his company.

  But that didn’t last very long, just like I figured it wouldn’t. Because I had so much to say, to fix, I was practically coming unglued at the seams. I needed him to understand—even though he probably wouldn’t want to hear it.

  “Look, Brin. What happened back then…”

  His eyes sprang open, wild and searching. “You don’t need to tell me—”

  “Please,” I replied. “For fuck’s sake, let me get it out after all these years.”

  I didn’t know what he was so afraid of, except maybe being disenchanted by me all over again. But maybe if I could just explain…

  He remained silent, chewing on his lip and it took me entirely too long to find the right words.

  “I had finally gotten to a better place with my parents and with school,” I said, even though he had no clue what the fuck had happened before I arrived at Jefferson High. “And if anybody found out I was…truth is, I couldn’t bear it…disappointing my dad again.”

  “What a crock,” he rumbled in my direction. “I mean fuck, I’ve been a disappointment all my life to my dad.”

  He sprang up and I made a motion to reach for his arm but missed. “Hold on a minute, you didn’t exactly let me finish.”

  “I’ve heard enough,” he said and stumbled away from me, as if his feet were heavy. Maybe heavy with disillusionment.

  My hand scrubbed over my face in frustration. “What the fuck can I do to finally make it up to you?”

  “How about you suck my dick for a change?” he grumbled in my direction. “Going to bed.”

  With little forethought, I burst from the couch and stalked behind him down the hall. “I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

  He turned to gape at me and as I caged him in, he stumbled backward, his shoulders hitting the wall. His face went through a series of emotions—from shock to desire—finally landing on insolence. When a laugh jumped out of his mouth, it only made me more determined.

  “Think this is a joke?” When my eyes burned into his, the smile slid from his face.

  “I’ve dreamed about getting a taste of you for years.” My voice was thick and I knew I shouldn’t have even said the words because he was only frustrated and screwing with me, but goddamn I needed him to know. To know that I wanted h
im, always wanted him. I had deprived myself of what I truly needed for so long, because it was the right thing to do.

  My arm swung down, stretching toward the front of his pants. As my thumb brushed against his zipper, I was completely stunned to find he was hard as a fence post. My breath caught at the same time as his. His smirk now long gone, I recognized something else in his eyes. The same excitement and longing and raw need from years past. And fuck if I didn’t love seeing that now.

  As my thumb pressed harder, he trembled and I saw him fighting with himself. He didn’t want to give into me—the asshole that had hurt him. But he also wanted me—fuck, he wanted me—and that made my own cock grow uncomfortably thick inside my sweats, the material suddenly feeling unpleasantly rigid.

  “Please,” I rasped. When our gazes met and held, I slowly lowered myself to my knees in deference to him. My fingers groped the button on his waistband, as my face closed in on his zipper. I rubbed my cheek against the coarse material. I could smell him and the scent was overpowering. Like rain and wet grass crossed with the sweat and musk of his arousal, and I wanted to get him between my lips so badly that my mouth watered.

  He whimpered as a shudder quaked across his shoulders and when I looked up at him, his eyes were wide and stormy, a mix of unrestrained lust and complete disbelief. With my gaze fixed on him, my fingers snapped open the button on his jeans and then hovered over the zipper as I waited for his permission.

  He offered the smallest nod, like he was still battling with his emotions. I gave him a second more to change his mind before I hauled his jeans down to his knees. His plump shaft pressed flush against the soft, gray material of his trunks and I placed my nose directly against the base and sniffed. I needed his cock in my mouth like I needed air. Opening my lips, I mouthed his length up and down the material. Brin tipped his head and groaned, his lower back planted against the wall for leverage.

  My fingers curling over the waistband, I slowly flipped down his briefs. His cock sprang free, beautifully flushed and leaking and I practically drooled at the sight—it was even hotter than my best fantasy. It’d been several long months since I’d last been with a guy, but those other times paled in comparison to this.

  “You’re fucking gorgeous,” I murmured as I nuzzled his balls, savored the smell of his skin, and felt his coarse blond pubes rub my chin.

  I heard the groan in the very back of his throat as he anchored his head against the wall and screwed his eyes shut. “You gonna talk the whole time or suck me off?”

  To shut him up I kissed his cock lengthwise, starting at the base and flicking out my tongue when I reached the crown, deliberately circling the underside.

  “Fuck,” Brin bit out, his fingers attempting to find purchase on the wall.

  I loved that I could turn him on by teasing him like this. But it wasn’t until I opened my lips and felt them stretch around his plump shaft that I heard the complete satisfaction in his voice.

  It was then that I shut out his noises and concentrated on all the sensations I was feeling in that moment. The feel of his velvety skin as I laved his length with my tongue, and the taste of the pre-come on the roof of my mouth. I needed to give him this—if not to make it up to him—then to completely indulge myself.

  I ignored the small voice in the back of my head telling me I didn’t deserve this—any of this. I should’ve been berating myself for all the reasons that this beautiful guy had shut me out of his life. Which is why I wouldn’t let myself come, not even after he did. I had earned a year of blue balls for the way I’d treated him. My hands reached down to pinch at the base of my shaft to stave off my orgasm.

  God knows how many minutes passed, as my tongue bathed him with my slick saliva and my lips felt bruised from sucking. I swallowed as much of him as I could to the back of my throat, as he moaned and arched his neck. Every time I calculated that he was close, his knees practically buckling, his hips swaying carelessly, I’d pull off to prolong his pleasure and mine as well—I had never in my life had the urgent, burning need to satisfy somebody more.

  My jaw was aching and my knees were sore but I deserved all of that and more.

  All of a sudden Brin’s hands were in my hair—tentatively at first and then burrowing deeper into my scalp. Jesus, he was actually touching me and it was every-damn-thing.

  When he curled a lock of my hair in his fist, there was a sharp tug. My eyes rolled in the back of my head because I fucking loved it—loved that I was driving him insane. “Goddamn it, I need to come. Right fucking now, Nick.”

  The next jerk was sharper, pulling my head up so he could look me in the eye. “I’m not playing around.”

  “Then give it to me,” I said in a throaty voice, as I licked around his crown. “Use me. Fuck my mouth.”

  His eyes blazed as he gave me exactly what I asked for. He fisted his bulging cock and fed it eagerly to my lips. My hands gripped his thighs as he began thrusting into my mouth. My lips swept down his shaft, my tongue working on his vein and I gagged as he squarely hit the back of my throat. His hips began pumping in earnest, his dick stretching my mouth wide.

  When my hands reached around to grip his firm ass, I considered how many times I fantasized about getting my fill of that hole. To lick it, finger it, fuck it raw.

  As my thumb traced along his crease, his back bowed, a strangled groan burst from his lips, and his jizz coated the back of my throat. I hummed as I swallowed—my eyes watering as I gulped him down. There was so much come, it leaked out of my mouth and dribbled down my chin. I finally got my taste—it was salty-sweet and I loved every fucking minute of it.

  He swayed against the wall, his fingers still gripping my skull. His cock jerked as he finished, and softened in my mouth, as if completely spent. I released my grip and gazed up at him as he slid his hands from my hair.

  As if awakening from a dream, he blinked, finally coming to his senses. He pushed at my shoulders and I fell backward on my ass. “Fuck you and your goddamn mouth.”

  He stumbled down the hall away from me and before I could even get my brain in working order, I heard a key scrape the lock. I sprang up, swiped at my mouth, and fled to the bathroom before Elijah and Stewart got wind of what’d happened between us.

  12

  Brin

  Holy hell, Nicholas Dell knew how to suck cock and he was damn good at it. The warmth of his mouth, the pressure of his lips, the way he teased me relentlessly by easing off right before I was about to explode. Always screwing with my head, even when giving me pleasure.

  Use me. Fuck my mouth.

  It was the exact kind of thing I craved, that few lovers had been able to give to me. And that was why I couldn’t let him in again. I didn’t want to feel the same disappointment I always did. The shame of developing feelings for yet another guy who was unavailable in one way or another and in the end couldn’t give me what I needed inside the bedroom as well as out.

  I couldn’t bear to disappoint my dad again.

  There was so much misery in that statement, but no way was I going to read further into it because it was a bunch of bullshit. Nick had gotten me off, it felt amazing, end of story.

  All Saturday we avoided each other, which wasn’t hard because he was gone practically all day for cosmetology class and who knew what else. I couldn’t help being curious about so many things, but I needed to keep my gut in check.

  I went to the shelter to visit Tallulah and took her for a long walk through the Metroparks. She was so excited to see a familiar face, and it ripped at my gut that she didn’t understand what’d happened to her owner and could no longer enjoy the creature comforts of Ms. Reynolds’s home. It made me wonder how she’d fare living with me. I’d always avoided adopting pets of my own, afraid I’d get too attached to the idea of helping all of them. So I’d contented myself with caring for them at my job.

  “Can you let me know if anybody is interested in adopting her?” I asked Carol when I dropped Tallulah off.

  “Wi
ll do. I see you’ve got a soft spot for her,” Carol replied. “Keep her overnight if you want.”

  My shoulders drooped. “Maybe when I finally get my place back.”

  Afterward, I went to visit my parents. My mom and I sat at the kitchen table catching up over coffee and the chocolate cherry bread I had brought with me from her favorite bakery near my condo. I told her about Nicholas Dell from high school and she vaguely remembered me being sad over a boy at the end of my senior year.

  I didn’t feel like rehashing it all, and maybe I would at another time, but we’d always been fairly close and she’d normally supported my choices.

  My younger brother Robert was a senior in college so the house was even quieter without him these past few years. We kept in touch occasionally by text and the last time I saw him was during his spring break.

  My dad and I never had much to say to each other, so when my brother came along and he had the same interests in sports and woodworking, my father was in all his glory.

  “Hi, Brian,” my dad said by way of greeting. He still called me by my birth name, which didn’t bother me too much. My mom and brother even slipped every now and again.

  He’d come up from his workshop in the basement, where he spent the majority of his time on the weekends, restoring or building furniture. When he wasn’t doing that, he was parked in front of the television watching whatever sport was in season.

  “Hi, Dad,” I replied and offered him a slice of the chocolate cherry bread by lifting the plate, but he threw up his hand, like I knew he would. He was a pretty simple guy and snubbed his nose at anything that looked fancy or too healthy.

  I noticed how he eyed my silver stud earrings I had swapped out last night and was probably grumbling to himself about the leftover black liner beneath my lower lids. He didn’t like when I did things to call attention to myself, even though I was only trying to be me.