Cherry Pie (8 page)

Connor made a sound that might have turned into a moan if he’d let it. But he cut it off. It made John desperate to hear it, to make Connor lose control so he couldn’t stop himself. He wrapped an arm around Connor’s waist and with his hand in the small of Connor’s back pressed him down. Connor resisted for a moment, and then he slowly collapsed against John until he was lying full against him.

“Mmm.” John tried to talk but realized he had to stop kissing Connor first. He pulled his mouth away and was gratified to hear Connor gulp in a breath as if he’d been so into it he’d forgotten to breathe. “No sheet between us,” John murmured, gently pushing Connor back up. Connor rose up onto his hands and toes so John could shove the sheet down. He clumsily kicked it off his feet, hardly able to function, he wanted Connor back against him so bad. Connor must have felt the same, because as soon as John was free, he fell back on top of him, and his mouth was on John’s less than a second later. This kiss was much more aggressive than his first one, and it was John who moaned. He put both hands on the back of Connor’s head, his soft, thick hair heaven between his fingers. Then he wrapped one leg around Connor’s waist and rolled the two of them over so that he was on top.

“John,” Connor protested weakly. God, his voice was so deep it hummed along John’s nerves as the hair on his arms rose.

“What do you want, Connor?” John asked him. His voice was a little unsteady, and he cleared his throat. “I want to give you what you want, but I don’t know what that is.”

“You.”

Connor’s answer made John’s heart pound. But he knew that what Connor meant was sex. He wanted sex, and John was here. He understood that. He let his hands rub against Connor’s skin, so hot and smooth and alive. He’d missed the feel of another human being in his arms. And he had the feeling that was really what Connor wanted. To be with someone, to feel someone. To not be alone.

“Then you get me.” John rolled away just long enough to push off his underwear. He nodded at Connor’s boxers. “Get those off.”

Connor hesitated again. For someone who’d come asking for it, he seemed unsure whether or not he wanted it. John let the thought trail off as Connor reached down and shucked his underwear. John nearly swallowed his tongue at a naked Connor outlined in the moonlight.

He rolled over Connor again, surprising him, and reached into the top drawer of the nightstand, pulling out some lube and condoms. He set them on the bed beside them and then framed Connor’s face with his hands. “Unless you tell me no, I’m going to fuck you.”

He was serious as a heart attack. There was nothing—barring Connor’s refusal—that was going to keep him out of Connor tonight. He could go slowly. He could do all but that with Connor. He could dance around it and give them both the lie that they hadn’t really had sex. Or he could throw caution to the wind and live for today. He’d been living that way when he packed up his life and moved from California to North Carolina. And then it seemed his life had fallen into some kind of suspended animation until Connor arrived. He’d already decided to do this. He wasn’t going to settle for halfway anymore.

Connor’s expression was as serious as John’s. “I’m not saying no.”

That earned Connor another kiss. A mind-blowing, toe-curling, I-can-die-a-happy-man kiss. At least for John. The tenor of their encounter changed with the kiss. Perhaps it had changed with the words they’d exchanged. But whatever the cause, there was no hesitation now. They both knew what was going to happen, and it was clear they both wanted it. Badly.

John wanted to savor Connor’s body, to taste it and enjoy it. It was impossible simply because he was overwhelmed by Connor: by his scent, his touch, his desire, the smoothness and heat of his skin, the thud of his heartbeat against John’s chest. But he was overwhelmed most by the knowledge that it was Connor underneath him in his bed, skin to skin and cock to cock. And before the moment melted away, he wanted—no, needed—to be inside Connor.

“Now,” he whispered against Connor’s lips, and Connor nodded. As John pulled away, Connor followed his mouth, nipping at his lips, rising to rest his weight on his hands behind him until John was too far away, and Connor had to reluctantly let him go.

John climbed off the side of the bed and grabbed Connor’s ankle, dragging him over. “Come here,” he growled.

Connor laughed lightly. “Or else?”

“Or else we can’t fuck,” John said. “And that would be a real shame.”

“Yes, sir,” Connor agreed in his deep, quiet voice. “It would.”

He slid over, and John tugged until his legs dangled over the side of the bed. “Flip over,” John ordered, and Connor complied, rolling over onto his stomach.

“Like this?” he asked breathlessly.

“Just like that.” John was as aroused as Connor sounded. He’d rarely gotten to play this role with Steve. He hadn’t minded, not really, not then. But he was different now. He wanted different things from Connor. He wanted what he wanted, and he didn’t want to compromise for someone else’s pleasure. Maybe it was selfish, but he just didn’t care right now.

He had to lean across the bed to get the lube and condoms. He pressed himself flush against Connor’s back, and when Connor shuddered beneath him, John smiled. “Soon,” he told Connor as he pressed a kiss to his nape. A shiver raced down Connor’s back, and John felt it. “Soon,” he said again.

Chapter Eleven

When he pressed his finger against Connor’s entrance, John was relieved to find Connor ready for him. He was glad for Connor’s experience right then. Perhaps not the way he’d gained it, but John was glad that he didn’t have to worry about hurting or shocking him when he fucked him. He liberally applied lube, both for Connor and for him. He had a feeling that once he got inside, he was going to pound Connor hard. He was wild with the need to fuck him, desperate to take him and come.

“Now, Johnny,” Connor whispered tightly. “I can’t stand much more waiting.”

His southern accent was thicker than usual. The idea that John had made him lose control in some way already was enough to have John tossing the lube aside and grabbing Connor’s hips to haul him into position, his ass hanging off the edge of the bed. “That makes two of us,” John told him fervently, earning one of Connor’s brief, deep chuckles, this one a little breathless.

John raised his left knee onto the bed next to Connor’s hip for leverage and snuggled his right leg in between Connor’s, spreading him wide. Then he nestled his cock in the crease of Connor’s tight, shapely rear and reached up to rest his hand on Connor’s back. Connor’s whole body jerked at the contact, and he made a desperate little noise in the back of his throat. To John that noise said “go” louder than any spoken word.

As he eased inside Connor’s tight heat, John wished he didn’t have to wear the condom. It was a crazy wish. He’d never had sex without one, and with Connor’s past, it was dangerous to do so. But if Connor stayed in Mercury long enough… John didn’t even finish the thought. He wasn’t looking for that. He wasn’t looking for long-term, for commitment, for heartache. This, what he and Connor had and what they were doing, that was enough. It was more than he’d bargained for when he’d let Connor in, that was for sure. He wasn’t going to suffocate it with impossible dreams and expectations.

Connor tucked his arms in under his chest, and John watched in a fog of desire as Connor let his whole body go lax. John could see it happen as Connor’s back went from rigid to slack, starting with his shoulders. When his ass relaxed around John’s cock, he pushed in all the way—a long, smooth glide into the heaven that was Connor, that had John gritting his teeth and clutching Connor’s hip tight.

He began to fuck Connor hard and fast immediately, and Connor took it. He lay there under John and bit his lip and angled his hips and took it like a pro. John was lost in the haze, and it took a couple of minutes before he realized that while Connor wasn’t protesting, he also wasn’t participating quite as actively as John would like. He slowed his strokes and ran his hand down Connor’s spine to the little indent at the top of his crease. “Connor?” he asked, his voice rough. He was panting. Two minutes in Connor, and he sounded as if he’d just run a fucking marathon.

“I’m fine,” Connor said quietly. “Go ahead.”

That was not the response John was looking for. “I don’t want ‘fine,’” he snapped. “I want out of this world, fucking over the moon at me inside you.” He quickly pulled out. “What’s wrong? What am I doing wrong?”

Connor started to cover his head in that god-awful defensive posture that made John’s gut clench. Before he could do it, John pressed his chest against Connor’s back, covering him. He grabbed Connor’s wrists and pressed his hands into the mattress. “Tell me, Connor,” he demanded quietly, his forehead pressed to the side of Connor’s head. “Tell me how to make you go crazy. Tell me what you need.”

Connor shook his head. John just waited. He rubbed his nose in Connor’s spicy-scented, newly washed hair while he waited, breathing deeply.

“Face-to-face,” Connor finally whispered. “I want you to fuck
me
, John. I want someone to fuck
me
. Not the football star or the boy toy or the junkie.
Me
.”

“Aw, Christ, Connor,” John sighed. He crawled on the bed beside Connor. “Slide up and roll over.”

Connor did as he was told, slow and easy, and John was struck by the notion that Connor always moved like that. Every move was deliberate and steady, no rushing, no fumbling. As if he thought about every step, every gesture before he made it.

When he finally lay on his back, Connor didn’t look at John. He covered his eyes with one hand, his other arm thrown over his head and hanging off the side of the bed. John lay down on top of him, deliberately letting all his weight settle. Connor slid his legs open, and John’s fell between, but still Connor wouldn’t look at him. That was all right. John could still give him what he asked for. John bent his legs and pressed his knees against the insides of Connor’s thighs, forcing them up. Connor didn’t fight him. When Connor’s knees were bent and he was wide enough, John fit his hips into the space they’d made and pressed back inside. Connor jerked and moaned.

“Hold on, Connor,” John said softly. “Hold on to me.” John took the hand Connor had flung over the bed and pulled it down and wrapped it around his waist. He braced his forearm above Connor’s shoulder, his hand brushing Connor’s beautiful hair. Then he reached for the hand covering Connor’s eyes. Before he could move it, Connor lowered it and wrapped his other arm around John’s waist. John braced his other arm in the same way as the first so that he could slide the fingers of both hands into Connor’s hair.

As John began to move, not as frantic as he’d been the first time they’d tried this, Connor’s arms tightened. His eyes were scrunched closed. In minutes their breathing grew ragged, and Connor’s arms slipped around John’s waist until he was clutching him. Then Connor began to move. His hips rose to meet John’s thrusts, tentatively at first, but soon he was meeting John halfway, fucking him as surely as he was being fucked. His knees bent at more of an angle, his feet right up against John’s ass, pushing him and holding him against Connor.

John had never felt so much a part of someone as he did right then. Connor surrounded him, needing him so badly John didn’t think he was even aware of the little whimpers that escaped each time John drove home inside him. John wanted to taste those sounds on his tongue. But as aggressive as their fuck was, the kiss he gave Connor was tender. He gently pulled on Connor’s lower lip, holding it softly between his until Connor opened his mouth with a gasp. Then John kissed him deeply, loving the breathy sighs that escaped Connor only to be swallowed by John. His hands in Connor’s hair were gentle. He didn’t want to pull it or be too rough. He wanted Connor to feel two things: John’s cock in his ass and John’s lips on his. He ran his thumb across the grooves etched in Connor’s forehead as he concentrated so hard on what they were doing. John loved it, loved how in the moment Connor was.

Suddenly Connor grew more agitated, his movements jerky. He clutched John between his thighs and held so tightly to his waist that John could barely breathe. Connor’s eyes flew open in a panic. “John,” he shouted, and then a cry that sounded suspiciously like a sob burst from him, and John felt him come, felt the hot gush of semen against his belly where Connor’s cock was pressed between them.

“Connor,” he whispered. He pressed deep and let the contractions of Connor’s orgasm ignite his own. Coming in Connor was quite possibly the most erotic and satisfying thing John had ever done. He had his open mouth poised over Connor’s, and their uneven breaths mingled as they both trembled in the aftermath.

When he could walk without falling, John climbed off the bed and threw away the condom in the dark. Then he climbed back into bed and dragged Connor into his arms. He didn’t say a word, and neither did Connor. Instead, they clung to each other, face-to-face, John’s thigh between Connor’s, and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Twelve

“You been to church yet, Connor?” Miss Priss called out from the porch as she watched him planting flowers along the fence. She’d come over a few times since that first day. Conn had driven over to check on her and brought her back here. Eventually someone showed up to chat with her on the porch, either Evan or Toby or Cheryl or someone else. John was usually there half the day too, he and Miss Priss deep in conversation. John had commented that he’d never seen a soul on the street until Conn showed up. Conn smiled.

“No, ma’am,” he answered, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading.

“Well, you get yourself there this Sunday, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. He didn’t add that he’d already decided to go.

“I’ll let Reverend Whitley know you’re coming,” she said with a sniff.

“Actually, Miss Priss, I think I might be going over to Evan’s church this Sunday,” he said. He stood up and faced her across the fence. Her eyes were wide. To most folks in Mercury, leaving the Methodist church was tantamount to instant damnation. But Conn had thought a lot about it, and he figured he’d done a hell of a lot more than that and was still breathing, so going to the Unitarian church didn’t seem so dangerous.