His hands find my hips automatically, pulling me closer until our bodies become one, as his tongue slips past my parted lips, caressing mine in gentle strokes that make my cock thicken and my toes curl.
I need to feel his skin on mine.
My fingers find the buttons of his shirt, undoing them hurriedly, before shoving it off his shoulders. Jules’s skin is hot to the touch below my fingertips, and I smile into his mouth when I feel goosebumps raising all along his flesh. Breaking our lips apart, I tug my shirt over my head, letting it fall to the ground before diving back in.
The kiss is messy. It’s heated and filled with all the passion I’ve come to love and expect from Jules. He kisses me like he was made to do so, and I’ll never grow tired of it. His hands slide below my waistband, gripping my ass and pulling me impossibly closer. His erection rubs against mine, the moan into his mouth unavoidable.
“Take these off,” he demands against my lips, already reaching around to unbutton them for me.
I slide off his lap, making quick work of shoving the tight pants down my legs while he stands, ridding himself of his too. My mouth waters as his large, delicious cock springs free. It’s been almost a year since we first had sex, and I still get tingly in my stomach every time he pulls himself out.
Jules sits back down, and I waste no time straddling his lap, lining our cocks up. Bringing his hand up, he spits into his palm, wrapping it firmly around us. He pumps us in slow, even strokes, my fingernails digging into the flesh of his shoulders as I rock into his hold.
“Feels so good,” I moan.
Crashing thunder roars furiously outside, electricity lighting up the sky like fireworks as we get so lost in one another, the entire world fades away. His deep, dark eyes drink me in, the look alone enough to make me shatter. The way he never looks away, never falters, like I’m the beginning and the end in his world, and for once, I believe it.
I’m surrounded by his love.
It doesn’t take long before heat begins to pool at the base of my spine, working its way to my balls. He tightens his grip with one hand while he wraps his other around my nape, pulling me into him. Our lips meet, and the second his tongue tangles with mine, I’m a goner. Crying out into his mouth, I spill my release all over his chest as he works me through it.
“I’m gonna come,” he grits out as his head falls to the back of the chair, eyes rolling closed. My lips find the smooth, hot skin of his neck, nipping and sucking as he finds his release. He groans, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest as he falls over the edge, his come mixing with mine.
We sit there for a moment, catching our breath, before heading inside to clean up. We shower, taking turns washing each other in between playful kisses. Once we’re done, we climb into bed, where I rest my head on his chest. His heartbeat soothes me, like it always does.
“I love you,” I murmur.
My eyes are thick with exhaustion, but my heart is the fullest it’s ever been.
Chapter Forty-Five
Jules van der Meer
The last of the boxes have been unloaded, the movers having just left. It’s been an exhausting few days, and we’re nowhere near finished, but my heart is fuller than it’s been in way too long.
Bodhi graduated from Duke, like I knew he would, and as of today, we are officially Charlotte, North Carolina residents. We signed the final papers on the house yesterday and moved all our stuff in today. It was hard saying goodbye to the home I lived in with Lorelei for so long, but it was time. As much as I loved her—and will always love her—and miss her, that chapter of my life is over. It’s a chapter I’m not so sure I would’ve gotten through had it not been for Bodhi.
He was the light I needed to make it through, and he never even had a clue. Somehow, during some of his darkest times, he was able to be the hope I needed to hold on to in order to survive. In a way, we saved each other.
I know he still struggles. There are days when he is more moody than usual or when his emotions get the best of him, but I know he’s trying. He got back on his medication while he was at Blackwood Ranch, and he’s been great at taking it every day. He’s back to journaling and running. There are still times I catch him examining himself in the mirror, and moments he admits he doesn’t always like what he sees, but I know it’ll take more than a few months to erase a lifetime of judgement and abuse.
He spent the better part of his childhood being told he wasn’t special. That he wasn’t worthy. You don’t just forget all of that with some antidepressants and a journal. Healing and recovery with mental illness isn’t a quick fix or a one and done. It’s something he’s going to be dealing with for the rest of his life, something he will have to actively work on step by step, day by day, and some days will be harder than others. Some days the rain will make him feel like he’s drowning, the clouds will block out his light, but that doesn’t mean his sun will never shine again.
I think that was the most important thing either of us could’ve learned through this process. Bad days are okay, and feeling sad is normal, but it’s how we handle it that matters. He’s come so far, and I’m so proud of him. And I know there are things that still bother him, things he wishes could be different, and maybe one day they will be.
His relationship with his mother is a big one. It’s been hard for him to accept his mom’s reaction to his trauma. Frankly, I can’t stand the woman and know he’s better off without her, but I also know she’s his mom, and letting go isn’t as easy as it sounds, even if he knows it’s for the best. For now, he keeps her at arm’s length. They don’t talk often, and when they do, it’s pretty surface level. I wish I could fix this for him or make him feel better, but this is something he’s going to have to come to terms with on his own. All I can do is be here for him when he needs a shoulder to cry on or a sounding board to vent to.
I’m working on unpacking the kitchen when sock-covered footsteps sound behind me. Peering over my shoulder, my gaze connects with the pair of icy blues that never fail to heat my blood. The smirk on his lips is soft, and his hair is a mess on his head. We’re both sweaty from unloading everything in the humid summer air. He’s wearing an oversized black tee that’s been cut into a crop top with tiny pastel tie-dye shorts. His socks don’t match, and the ring shoved through his belly button has a lightning bolt on the end.
“How’s it going in here?” he asks, wrapping his arms around my middle.
“It’s alright. What are you working on?”
“Our room.” He glances up at me, his eyes gleaming. “It’s so weird to say that.Our room.”
“Yeah, it is, pretty boy.” I chuckle. “But it’s a good weird.”
Standing on his tiptoes, he threads his fingers together behind my neck, pulling my lips down on his. He tastes sweet, and his scent surrounds me—tropical, mixed with light, musky sweat. It’s always been so easy for me to get lost in Bodhi, and this time is no different. Reaching down, I hoist him up and set him on the counter, my hands coming up to roam all over as my tongue tangles with his.
