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Getting It Twisted (Unforgivable Needs #1) 8. Chapter 8 44%
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8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Daniel

When I wake up, a warm body is lined up against mine, every inch of skin pressed as close as it can get.

The heat alone is overwhelming. I push the bedcover off our bodies, and with the shift in position, I realize how hard I am. The length of my cock presses against Nathan’s ass, and he’s . . . moving . Pushing against me. Slowly wiggling his hips, all indulgent like a cat.

I try to disentangle the arm I’ve got slung over his torso, but he makes a noise of protest and grabs onto my wrist.

“What did you say last night?” I grunt into his ear.

“Mm?” He’s moving, moving, and my cock swells to full hardness. “Don’t remember.”

I should stop this. I should yank my arm away from him by force and get away from his soft, delicious heat. I should tell him off, for real this time.

“Come on,” he gasps. His fingers slide under the hem of my boxers, nails digging into my flesh, keeping me lined up against him. “Please.”

“Quit it,” I grit out. In one swift motion, I roll us over until he’s on his stomach, with me on top of his back. The bed creaks, bouncing with our combined weight.

“Yeah,” he groans, voice muffled into the pillow. “Do it.” He reaches down, scrambling to pull at his underwear.

I grab his arms and pin them to the bed. “Slow down.”

“What is there to be slow about? Fuck me.”

I grab a handful of his hair and hiss into his ear, “Are you this shameless about it? This desperate?”

“Yeah,” he gasps. “We’ll never talk about it again if that’s what you want. I’ll be just a hole for you. I don’t care.”

He wants me to treat him like nothing but a hole? Fine. I can do that. Right now, I want to do that, and he deserves it. For hurting me. For leaving me. For frustrating me to the ends of the earth.

I push my boxers down and pull out my aching cock, letting the heavy length of it press against the half-exposed mounds of his ass. If I’m going to do this, I won’t make it some frantic fuck fest. I’ll take my time with him, make him come apart in my arms. Make him cry maybe. He deserves that too.

He gazes at me from the side with half-lidded eyes. His breath comes out in staggered little pants, and with each moment of delay, he grows more and more tense.

“Just use spit.”

“We need lube. And a condom.” Someone needs to be the responsible one here, and it sure as hell won’t be him.

“Fine. My backpack. In my room. Hurry up.”

When I return with a bottle of lube and a condom in my hands, Nathan is lying right where I left him but with his boxers fully off, his naked ass on display, and . . . damn.

The sun shines in from the window shutters, bathing him in light. The dip of his back, the jut of his shoulder blades, his perfect, smooth ass . . . He looks fucking unreal.

He turns his head and looks at me with a quirked brow. “Well?”

I get rid of my boxers and climb back into bed. I straddle his upper thighs, and with a grip on his hair, I twist his head to the side. “You’re hot as fuck, you know that?”

He shoots me a blatant, shameless grin. He knows. Of course he knows.

Then I say, “You’re beautiful,” and his grin falters, replaced by a blush I don’t let him hide.

I run my hands down his taut little waist. The head of my cock pokes between his ass cheeks, not quite reaching his hole. I let him feel my hardness as I rock against him, smearing precum on his hot skin.

He shudders and groans. “Daniel, fuck . . .”

“Now,” I say, pushing his messy, sweaty bangs out of his face. “What do you want me to do with you?”

“I want you to fuck me so hard I forget my own name, that’s what.”

Yeah, that ass of his is hungry; he’s gotten that much across.

He reaches his hands down and parts his cheeks, giving me the most perfect view of his hole. It winks at me, tiny, pink, and inviting.

“Hm.” I let my thumb slide over the soft wrinkled tissue, feeling my cock twitch in response to his groan. “You’re a bit of a slut, aren’t you?”

He glares at me, teeth gritted. “What?”

I uncap the bottle of lube and pour a dollop into the crease of his ass. “You’re giving this to me, but you might as well have given it to anyone.”

“Shut up,” he hisses. “It’s yours now.”

“You think I’ll take care of you?”

“I know you will.”

“Oh, but you hurt me. You don’t think I’ll hurt you too?”

He gives a pitiful whine. “Fuck, I want you to hurt me. Want you to wreck my ass. I can take it.”

I thread a condom over my cock and coat myself with lube. I can’t believe I’m about to do this. Can’t believe I’m about to fuck him.

Again.

Don’t think about that. This isn’t like last time. Not at all. For one, we’re both sober.

“Go on,” I say, “grab my cock.”

He reaches a hand back and wraps his fingers around my length. It twitches in his grip.

“You think you can take it?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He arches his plump little ass and guides the head of my cock to slide between his cheeks. “Yeah, fuck . . . I can take it. Do anything you want.”

I envelop his fingers with my hand. “Beg me for it.”

“Daniel, fucking hell. Give it to me. Please, I need it, need your cock so bad, I . . . Fuuuck .”

I push forward, pressing hard until I breach his tight little hole. His hand falls to the bed and grips the sheets. I stop halfway to allow him a chance to adjust, but he gets up onto his elbows and pushes his hips back, making me slide all the way home.

“Fucking. Finally.” He lets out a groan of immense relief, and his expression is one of such utter bliss that it takes my breath away.

“You’ve waited for this?” I’m panting as I speak, strained with the mind-boggling tightness squeezing my cock. “This is what you wanted?”

“Oh fuck . . . Yeah, I’ve waited. Wanted this for so long.” He rocks his hips. “Come on. Wanna feel you fuck me open.”

I smack his ass cheek. “Stop clenching. Are you trying to make me come already?”

He smirks at me, but it’s distracted and fleeting—a far cry from his usual self-assured ways.

I grip his slender hips and dig my thumbs into his flesh. “You’re not just a slut, are you? You’re a brat too.”

“I’ll be whatever. As long as you— oh —”

I thrust into him hard and deep. His back clings to my sweaty chest as I find us a rhythm, and the sound of our fucking fills the room. Every time I grab onto him just a tiny bit harder, grind into him a little more ruthlessly, he gets louder—all high-pitched moans and sobs, crying out his pleasure.

“Oh god, just like that,” he whines as I piston my hips into his trembling body. “Slap me again. Harder.”

I strike his ass cheek with a force that reddens the skin. The sound whips through the air, and he moans, burying his face in the pillow.

“Again.”

I bring my palm down on him, shuddering with how he clenches around me with every strike, helpless to do anything but keep fucking him, keep hurting him. I planned to take things slow and enjoy this, but Nathan has a way of making it hard to think, especially when I’m buried balls-deep in his tight hole.

“Oh fuck yeah. Wreck my ass. Ruin me.”

The next slap, I keep my hand on him and dig my fingers into his hot, quivering flesh. I rake him harshly with my nails, as if I’m trying to leave a mark for all the men who have had him before and the ones who might have him in the future. He should remember this, should remember us . . .

“Oh god . . . That feels so fucking good, don’t stop.”

I don’t want to stop, but the pressure building in my groin will demand release sooner or later. I lift him onto his knees and keep him upright, pounding into him so hard the bed shakes as I rake my nails down his sides. He cries out and goes slack, upper body collapsing onto the bed. I keep pounding into him, mere seconds from bursting.

He gazes back at me. “Pull out and come on my hole.”

Holy fuck. I pull out and rip the condom off, and a couple of frantic strokes of my hand later, I’m coming. Pleasure shoots through me, zinging up my spine and pulsing through my balls as I shoot enough for several loads. It goes everywhere, painting Nathan’s ass and the small of his back, trickling between his buttocks, and coating his hole like he begged for. I want to smear my cum over his cheeks—want to cover him all over and have him walk around drenched in my scent.

My nostrils flare at the sudden possessive urge I’m not entitled to in the least. He’s not mine. Perhaps he’ll never be mine.

I rest a hand between his shoulder blades as I catch my breath.

“Did you come?” For some reason, I feel I need to make sure.

He turns around and gives me a slow, salacious grin. “What else could I do when you started ripping into me like the Big Bad Wolf?”

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. I fucking loved it.”

“We should put ointment on it or something.”

“Nah. I wanna feel it.”

I’ll at least clean him up and inspect the damage. Still naked, I hobble into the bathroom and wet a towel with lukewarm water. When I come back, Nathan is on his stomach again. His buttocks are bright red from the spanking and streaked with pink from my nails. Shit, I’ve even drawn blood. Tiny beads of red trickle from his milky skin.

“Sorry,” I mutter again as I swipe the towel over his red, abused ass and between his buttocks. He sighs into the pillow and pushes his ass out to give me easier access.

I’ll never get tired of the look of that pretty, hairless hole . . . Especially not when it’s covered in my cum. I lean forward and kiss one of his ass cheeks, and he makes a surprised, whimpering noise. I wipe off the remnants of my cum and the lube, set the towel aside, and breathe a puff of air over his hole.

“You’re this red just from one session, huh?” I inspect it with my thumb, pressing against the soft, hot slickness. “I thought you were used to this.”

“You’re pretty big, you know. And there wasn’t a lot of prep.”

“You wouldn’t let me prep you, remember? So desperate to get my cock.” I can see his balls drawing up as he’s no doubt getting hard from my words. I drag my thumb over his hole and cup his supple, shaved balls with the rest of my fingers, rolling them in my hand while he moans.

“Yeah, that feels nice.” He turns his head to look at me, intense green eyes half-hidden under his bangs.

Fuck. Why did I wait for so long to do this? I could have fucked his brains out from day one. But if I had, he wouldn’t have been as needy. Granted, I shouldn’t be doing this in the first place, but this ceasefire between us won’t work unless I’m the one in control and he lets me do whatever I wish. He might not deserve for me to give him the time of day, but if I can get us to equal ground by drilling him with my cock, so be it.

Scowling, I flip him over and cover his body with mine, and he parts his thighs to invite me between his legs. I kiss his vicious, slutty mouth, and our lips move in tandem, trying to gain purchase on one another. He grapples at me, parting his legs wider as I growl into his mouth. My cock pressing against his lower stomach feels hard enough to poke a hole in him.

“I wanna suck your dick,” he gasps.

“That so?” I kiss along his jaw and down by his pulse point. I want to bite him there, want to mark him all over.

“Climb on top of my chest. Let me show you.”

“Show you what?”

He winks. “You’ll see.”

I do as he says, crawling on top of him until I’m sitting on his chest, my cock level with his chin. He looks so small and vulnerable in this position. Willing. Submissive. The total opposite of his usual smug, arrogant demeanor.

I guide the head of my cock to his lips. He sticks his tongue out to lick at the head and reaches a hand to grip my base.

I slap the hand away. “Nuh-uh. Hands-free. You wanted to show me how good you are, remember?”

He glares at me. “Fine.” He hinges his jaw open wide, works me between his lips, and swallows me down with well-practiced efficiency. And just like that, I hit the back of his throat.

“Christ,” I groan. “No gag reflex?”

He pulls back. “Fuck my face. I can take it.”

“I bet you can.” I rock my hips forward, and he swallows me down as if his throat was made for it. It feels like a dream—that wet slide welcoming me inside, his tongue playing with the crown on the way up. He breathes through his nose as he tongues my shaft. My balls tighten, and I can tell I’ll come pretty quickly if he keeps this pace up. I grip a fistful of his hair and tilt his head up as I drive my hips into him. It must be difficult at this angle, but he takes it like a champ, gripping the back of my thighs and pressing me deeper.

“You ready?” I groan. “Gonna come down that throat of yours.”

He blinks, which I assume means yes, as he keeps bobbing his head at a steady, tantalizing pace.

I don’t miss the smug glint in his eyes before I throw my head back and come, shooting deep into his magnificent throat.

For those precious moments of my orgasm, the world ceases to exist, and when I come back, Nathan has pulled off my cock and has his mouth full of my release. I climb back down his body and kiss him again, and he pushes my cum back into my mouth. We let it swirl back and forth between us for an undefined stretch of time—me playing with his hair and him moaning into my mouth.

It’s dirty and obscene and kind of weird, but there’s also something deeply cathartic about it. The whole time he’s been back has felt like a fever dream—not just our first meeting—and this brings those feelings back tenfold.

I’m rolling around in the sheets with the boy I lost and the man I hate . . . Well, at least I’m supposed to hate him. Now I can’t help but praise him instead.

“You’re so fucking good at that.”

He grins into the kiss. “Told you.”

I spit a mixture of saliva and cum onto my fingers and bring my hand between our bodies. “I want to see you come, okay?”

“Okay.” He nods, whining as I swipe my thumb over his slit. “Okay, fuck . . .”

I wrap my hand around his shaft and start pumping him with long, slow strokes at first, and then quick and hard, making him arch into my fist. I grab his balls next, pulling and rolling them between my fingers.

“You liked doing that?” I grunt, inches from his mouth as I grip his hair with my free hand and twist his head back. “You liked sucking my cock?”

“Yeah . . . yeah, oh fuck . . . I loved it. Pull harder.”

I do, bunching his hair into my fist and yanking hard. At the same time, I squeeze his cock so tightly I’m surprised he doesn’t squeal from pain. Instead, he shudders and moans. His cock jumps in my hand, and unlike last time, I pay rapt attention to the curve of his brows, the pinch of his eyes, and the parting of his mouth as he splatters his torso with his release.

“Oh wow . . .” He gulps. “Shit, that was good.”

I swipe up his cum and push it into his mouth, and he sucks eagerly on my fingers. He’s filthy while he does it—gazing up at me through tearstained eyelashes, velvet tongue licking my fingers, all slow and indulgent.

Once I’ve fed him everything, I roll to the side, pull the cover over our sweaty bodies, and listen to his slowing breaths as we fall back asleep.

I jerk awake from a phone call.

The sun’s still blasting into the room, so we can’t have been asleep for long.

I grip my phone and glance blearily at the screen. Shit, it’s my mom. What does she want from me now?

“Hi, Mo—”

“Daniel.” She sounds all wound up. “I need you to come watch Jessie.”

Jessie . . . I fold my legs over the edge of the bed, heart pounding. “What’s going on?”

“I cut myself in the kitchen. It’s-it’s deep. I have to go to the hospital.”

“Are you okay? Who’s driving you?”

“A neighbor, whoever! That’s not the problem. Sarah’s out of state, and I thought I could care for Jessie myself, but— Damn it!” There’s a rustle through the phone. “The kitchen’s a mess, and she needs breakfast and her medicine. Just get here, Daniel. Now.”

Before I have time to reply, she hangs up.

I look back at Nathan, who’s lounging on the bed, leanly muscled body displayed in all its glory. His cock lies soft over his thigh, and he’s got a heavy-lidded, dazed look about him, as if he’s just smoked a blunt.

“So,” he drawls. “What’s up with your mom?”

“She needs my help. I have to go.”

“Shit. Really?”

I find my shirt on the floor and pull it on. “You could come with me, you know. I could use the help.” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth.

I know him. If he were bored and restless enough, he might accept the invite. But now, when he’s gotten what he wants? When he’s all satisfied and sleepy? There’s no way he’ll go through the effort.

He looks at me for a good long while. Any moment now, he’ll shrug that one-shouldered shrug of his. His gaze will be full of disregard, annoyed I even asked.

“All right,” is what he says. “I’ll come with you.”

“Really?” My mouth lifts at the corner. “Okay.”

During the drive there, I start to regret bringing him along.

In the car, I feel his gaze on me. I feel it when we walk up the driveway to the white one-story house that used to be my home. And I feel it when I knock on the door.

How am I supposed to focus on taking care of my little sister with Nathan in the same room? With his eyes on me, his attention on me, my brain rewinds to when I had him in bed mere hours ago, writhing in pleasure.

When my mother opens the door, she looks as distraught as she sounded on the phone—dirty-blond hair a mess and bloody gauze wrapped around her hand.

“Daniel, thank Go—” She stops herself, catching sight of Nathan. “What is he doing here?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I assure her. “Go to the hospital, we’ll figure things out.”

“Fine, but don’t think we won’t talk about this when I get home. I’ve texted you Jessie’s schedule. And oh, there’s a load of laundry in the basket.”

“We’ll handle it,” I call after her as she heads to a car down the road.

Jessie awaits us in the hallway. Her jumper is splattered with blood, but aside from that, she looks the same as she always does. She smiles at me with her big, bright eyes.

“Danio!”

I lean down to hug her. Her shoulder blades are sharp, her body thin as a rail, but she’s warm, and she’s happy, and she’s safe.

She gasps as soon as she sees Nathan behind me, and she starts vibrating in her wheelchair with pure giddiness, giggling as if she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself.

“Danio, Nathan’s here. Nathan’s here!”

Nathan swoops down to her eye level and cups her cheeks with both hands. “Yeah, little Jess. I’m here.” He smiles a fond smile. “Gee, look at you. You’re getting cuter and cuter by the day.”

Jessie stretches her arms out and runs her hands through his hair. He lets her do it, not withdrawing even when her fumbling fingers almost poke his eyes out.

Spellbound, I find myself staring at them, and memories flood my brain.

Whenever she found out I had Nathan in my room, my sister would wheel herself in with a Lego set and ask him to play with her. I remember her shy smile when he paid attention to her, played with her, showed her magic tricks, and talked to her as if there was nothing in the world amiss with her. With him, she could feel like a regular girl.

I didn’t blame her back then for her infatuation, and I don’t blame her now. This side of Nathan—this soft and affectionate selflessness—hits me hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs.

They turn to me with equally sunny smiles, and I clear my throat.

“Breakfast, everyone?”

We set to work. While Nathan helps Jessie find a new jumper, I clean the kitchen and fry the half-abandoned scrambled eggs. With more care and a sharper knife, I even cut up the watermelon that was the culprit of my mother’s injury, and we gather at the kitchen table.

Nathan steals little glances at me as we eat. I’m used to the jolt of heady attraction when his gaze meets mine, but this jittery, exhilarated feeling is entirely new. Does he feel it too? Or is he just elated that he finally managed to win me over? That he managed to get me to fuck him?

“’Taying,” Jessie mumbles around a mouthful of eggs.

“Yeah, sis?” I ask, wiping her mouth.

“Staying. Is Nathan staying?”

Oh. Staying as in staying in town?

I turn to him, and he leans an elbow on the table and cradles his cheek in one hand. His green eyes twinkle as he chews his last bite of food, but other than that, his expression gives nothing away.

My voice is distant and distracted when I tell my sister, “I don’t know.”

Until recently, I didn’t even entertain the option, and it certainly wasn’t something I wanted. I wanted him to leave as soon as possible and save the destruction of my heart and my sanity.

But now I’m not so sure.

He vanished from my life once. Can I dare hope he’ll stay for good this time? Do I even want him to stay?

After breakfast, I wheel Jessie into the living room and put her favorite nineties sitcom on the TV.

The laundry room is next. Nathan jumps onto the counter beside the washing machine and dangles his legs off the edge like a child.

I load the machine, almost too distracted to remember how to put it on. I feel his heated gaze on me, the magnetic pull of him.

“We done?” he asks, and I figure I’ve been patient enough.

I shift between his legs and glance down at his mouth. He looks at me hungrily, tongue darting out to wet his lips, hands curling into the back of my shirt. I lean in, and his lips part against mine. Our tongues meet, the kiss growing hot, sultry, and desperate. He wraps his legs around my hips and his arms around my shoulders.

I pull back. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Fuck yeah.”

As our lips meet again, I can’t help but remember the party senior year. How he crawled toward me across our circle of friends. How worried I was to show the others—show him —how much I wanted it. How I wanted it so much I feared it.

But there’s no performative tilt of his lips as he kisses me now—only his own pure passion. For me. For us. And yet something irks me enough to make me pull away. Our foreheads lean against each other, and I feel his hot breath against mine as he licks his lips.

“Why’d you stop?” he asks.

“What are we doing?”

“I dunno. It feels good though. Keep going.”

“I want to. But I want to know . . . about what Jessie said . . .”

“About staying?” He snorts. “I thought you couldn’t wait to be rid of me.”

“That was before . . . this.” I push my hips forward, and I grunt when he grabs my ass, pressing my groin against his in a mimicry of fucking.

“Told you you’d enjoy yourself.”

If I could flip him over the counter and take him right here . . . But Jessie’s in the other room. What if I can’t always give him what he wants when he wants it?

The image of the biker leaning into him and whispering in his ear resurfaces in my brain, and I scowl at the thought of him going to someone else when he needs to get off.

“Am I going to find you at Moe’s next weekend?”

“Hm?” He kisses my jaw, trails his lips over my neck.

“I don’t want you to do this with anyone else.”

“As long as you fuck me good, I don’t need them.”

“All right.” I dig my fingers into his thighs, feeling him shudder and gasp. “Then I’ll fuck you good.”

“You’ll do it whenever I want? As often as I want?”

“Yeah. Anytime.” I kiss him again, only a peck, but he pulls me in and sucks my tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss.

When I withdraw, he makes a frustrated mewling sound. I can’t decide if it’s adorable, hot, or simply comical.

“So does this mean you’ll stay?” I ask.

“I already told you I don’t want to leave again.”

“If you’re serious, I still think you should sell the house.”

He frowns. “And why would I do that?”

For anyone else, the reason would be obvious. Too many ghosts are haunting that place, and I’ve had enough proof of its effects on him. Besides, I can’t escape the feeling there’s something he’s not telling me, though I’m not sure I want to find out . . . The stuff I already know is horrible enough, and whenever I think about it, the guilt rubs me raw.

I should have done something—anything—to help him back when we were kids. Having him move in with my family wouldn’t have worked, but I could have—I don’t know—built us a shelter somewhere, just so he could get away from his mother’s clutches. But I was just a kid, and I didn’t know what to do. Still, I should have done something .

Here’s my chance to make up for it, right? If only he’ll accept my help.

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