“I know. I just like to hear you say it. Are you okay? You sound tired. Are you getting enough rest? Are you taking your vitamins? You know what I’ve been saying, Eric—”
“I know, Mom. I need to go, okay? I’ll see you tonight.”
She sighs dramatically and huffs. “Fine. I’ll see you later.”
I throw my phone to the side and close my eyes, not bothering to get under the covers or take off my boots. I let the silence lull me to a relaxed state. Everyone is alive. Everyone is well. Everyone is healing. Reaper and his search party are still looking for Tongue. I hope nothing bad has happened to him, but at the end of the day, he’s a tough motherfucker. He’ll be fine.
Reaching behind my head, I yank off my shirt and let my scars breathe. They have been burning and itching, driving me insane over the last few days. I never tell anyone about my pain because I don’t know if it’s physical or mental. If it’s all in my head, I don’t want to admit it.
I unbutton and unzip my pants next and let my cock hang out. Maybe I will get undressed. I feel suffocated in these clothes, but I’m so goddamn tired. This is where an ol’ lady would come in handy. She could help me take off my boots when I’m too tired to fucking move. I’m not saying that’s what women are for—they aren’t. They are beautiful, strong creatures, and if I ever get lucky enough to gain the love of one, I’ll treasure it.
And hopefully in return, every once in a while, when I’ve been on my feet all day, she’ll untie my boot laces. She doesn’t even need to take off my boots. I can do it by kicking them off; I just need them loosened. I’m tempted to call Slingshot in, but now my cock is out, and it would be too weird. Jeez, I’m so damn lazy right now.
Goddamn it.
I’m not stuffing my cock back in either. The air feels too nice.
I glance at the time and want to cry in happiness when I see I have plenty of time to nap. It’s like waking up hours before your alarm and seeing you have hours of sleep left. It’s an unexpected gift.
Closing my eyes again, my sleepy mind takes an unexpected turn. I’m dreaming of Jo. She’s in regular jeans and a tight shirt, but it’s her jeans that have my limp cock coming to life. Her ass is divine. It’s big, bubbly, and made to be fucked. Every time she’s around, my eyes fall to the round peach, and all I want to do is sink my teeth into it.
My shaft burns, throbbing with need, and I wrap my hand around it, giving myself long strokes to ease the ache. I imagine her healed and happy, smiling as she slips off her jeans and tosses them at me. That turns me on more than anything. Not just because she’s half naked, but because she’s healed.
“Fuck, Jo,” I growl when she saunters over to me, turns around, and bends over. She pulls her cheeks apart, showing her forbidden puckered star. Her wet pussy winks at me, daring me to take both of her holes. I bury my face between her cheeks and eat her ass, plunging my tongue inside. She moans, pushing herself down to get more friction. I bury a finger inside her cunt next, and she cries out my name.
My cock is dying to get inside her ass, fucking that ripe hole until I’m filling it with my seed. I’ll pull out, watching the white cream leak out of her and drip to her pussy.
“Oh, fuck,” I moan, tossing my head back as the fantasy gets out of control. I shouldn’t be thinking of her like this, not when there are so many milestones we have to cross before we can be together. I can’t help it. I’ve held myself back for far too long. I’ve given her time. I’ve given her space to heal, and it was a mistake. She didn’t need space. She needed me. She needed someone to care.
And I do.
I’ve wanted her from a distance, and now the miles between us are nonexistent. It’s time to take what’s meant to be mine.
The fantasy changes again, a different time, a different scenario. Her belly is round, and she’s in need. She rubs her wet cunt against my cock while we’re in bed. My hand cups her belly, and something about it turns me on. She isn’t pregnant with my kid, but I’ve claimed them. Jo is mine. The baby inside her is mine. I’ll protect both of them.
I bite into my bicep when my cum-filled sack pulls tight to my body. My scars are numb, and when I imagine plunging inside her for the first time, I shout my release. Spurts of cum jet out and land on my belly. “Fuck yes, Jo. Oh fuck, that pussy feels perfect,” I moan to myself as I watch thick white streams drip down onto my stomach.
The buzz takes over, and I’m skating on post-orgasm high, languidly jacking my cock and letting the dribbles of cum leak out of the slit, and a knock on the door yanks me to reality, ruining my damn high.
What’s a guy got to do to get some damn peace?
“Fuck,” I sit up and trip over my jeans that are around my ankles. Cum drips off me and onto the wood right between the planks, settling in the crack.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
“Eric?” Jo’s sweet voice penetrates from the other side of the door. I freeze, looking around the room to hide or get rid of evidence of my… intimate session. Jesus, I sound like a fucking idiot. I’m a grown man. I’m allowed to jack my dick in the privacy of my room.
I don’t say anything as I think about what to do. I decide to pick up my dirty shirt and wipe up the cum. I toss the soiled tee in the hamper and tuck myself in my jeans. “Yeah—” I croak and clear my throat. “Yeah? What?” I snap a bit, unintentionally. I’m nervous because I almost got caught. I was thinking of her, when I doubt she ever thinks of me. “I’m about to get in the shower,” I lie because if I open that door and see her sweet face staring up at me, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back.
“Oh, okay. I’m wondering if it is normal for Moretti to make grunting noises? He’s been doing it for the last few minutes. I thought I’d come get you.”
I step into the puddle of cum on the floor and grimace but open the door anyway. “What did you just say?”
“Moretti…” She purses her lips, and my eyes fall to them and imagine how they would feel wrapped around the thick stalk of my cock. She licks her pink lips as she stares at my chest, and I puff it out, naturally, loving her eyes on me. “He’s making these weird grunting noises like he’s choking.”
Horrible time to have masturbated. Of course, Moretti needs me right now. I’m telling my feet to move, to hurry, but my brain isn’t connecting with my body because Jo is standing in front of me. She’s in new clothes. Plain black shorts and a Ruthless Kings MC shirt. She looks fucking hot. I want her to be wearing my clothes. Damn, imagining her in a t-shirt hanging to her knees is making blood flood south.
Focus, Eric. Focus.
I need to concentrate on medicine. I can’t. The more she’s around, the more trouble I’m in for forgetting my obligations to medicine and binding myself to her.
Without hesitation, I grab a folded shirt off my dresser and throw it over my head as I pass Jo. I forget about my scars, but the moment Jo gasps, I know she’s seen what I’ve hidden from everyone. They are memories I like to keep covered. I tug my shirt down until my back can’t be seen, and she reaches for my hand, giving it a squeeze.
She doesn’t ask.
She doesn’t judge.
She understands the need to hide secrets that only cause more destruction. She has her own scars, and the more that goes unspoken between us, the more we understand each other.