Riding With Brighton(26)
“It’s definitely dangerous.” I close my eyes and let my hands run up his neck and into his hair. I pull on it, forcing his face away from mine. When I open my eyes, he’s staring at me and the look in his eyes is clear—he’s begging me.
I remember that feeling. I remember wanting so damn badly to be kissed for the first time. And I suppose this is like a first for Jay. I mean, I know how I felt when Josie kissed me today—it was pleasant, but it didn’t satisfy or create any desire inside me. And if Jay is gay—if he’s not bisexual or bi-curious or just a confused straight guy, if he is just straight-up gay—then he’s never really been kissed. “I want to be the first guy that gets to kiss you,” I whisper.
“Fucking do it, then,” he practically moans, and I like it. I like his passion and his aggression. I like it way too much.
I push my fingers farther into his hair and grip hard, pulling him close to me—pulling his lips close to mine. His hands slide up me, and he grabs on hard to my waist, pulling me into him, our hard-ons colliding. Fuck. I almost lose all self-control, but I meant what I said. I’m not gonna mess around with someone who already belongs to someone else. Not that I’m not messing around with him right now, but….
Slowly, I lean in and brush my lips against his. His mouth tries to push into mine, but I retreat before biting down gently on his lower lip, feeling the flesh pass between my teeth until it pops free. I move my hands down to his shoulders, and I gently push off of him, creating some necessary space.
He looks a little dumbfounded. “Are you kidding me?”
“It was a punishment, right?” I tell him with a smirk, trying to make light of this situation that he clearly doesn’t find amusing.
“So you’re trying to torture me? You’re totally fucking with me?” He takes a step back and runs his hands through his hair. His face is tense, and I’m wondering if I took it too far. “Is this all some joke to you? You think it’s funny that I might be gay? You want to see how far you can push me, then you’re gonna… what? Go running back to your friends and tell them how stupid I am and laugh about all the fun you had fucking with me all day?”
My head actually retracts at those words. What the hell? “Wow, Jay. Really? I opened up to you, showed you all kinds of pieces of my world, and that’s what I get for it? You think I’m some kind of sadist who would get pleasure out of torturing some kid who might be gay?” I can’t help but put some emphasis on those three words because it just proves how not ready he is for any of this. “And then run back to my friends and brag about being some asshole? You’re fucking ridiculous,” I say, pushing past him and climbing back down the ladder.
“Brighton,” he calls after me. His tone isn’t pleading but pissed. I hear him clatter down the ladder, and I walk faster. “What the hell am I supposed to think when you do that? I mean, fuck, do you know how completely vulnerable I feel right now? I didn’t grow up in a family like yours. I haven’t surrounded myself with open-minded, diverse people. I have nothing to relate to. I have a lifetime of self-hatred and confusion inside my head, and when you do shit like that to me, after you know what I’m dealing with right now, it feels cruel, and so yeah, I’m trying to figure out why you’re being so damn cruel.”
I’ve made it out of Maggie’s sculpture now, and I’m stomping across the field trying to stay pissed at him… but I can’t. What he said was wrong, but I know he didn’t mean it. What he just told me is the truth.
When I realize this, I stop and turn to him. He’s resting against Maggie’s ship, looking totally drained, and now I feel like an asshole. I walk back to him and stop when I’m within a few feet. I grab on to both of his hands and try to pull him to me, but he resists. “Come here.”
“Why? Are you gonna give me a friendly hug or pat on the back because, honestly, Brighton, I’m not in the mood.”
“No, Jay. Come here.”
Chapter Five
Jay
I CAN detect at least twelve emotions running through me, and I probably haven’t even scratched the surface. Mentally, I wasn’t prepared for the roller-coaster ride this day has taken me on and, honestly, I’m tired of it. At least the parts of the track that I’m sure Brighton is snapping into place on purpose.
But as he whispers the words come here for the second time, I can’t help but trust that if I do what he says he’ll make it worth it. If he doesn’t, then, seriously, I’m gonna want to tear his damn balls off. I won’t, because that would mean this day that I’m having with him will have to come to an end, but I’ll definitely want to.
I relent and let him pull me to him. His strong hands grip hard to mine, leading them behind his back so we are pushed up against each other. He holds my hands, and therefore me, in place and then he ducks his head and kisses me lightly on my throat.
Oh Jesus, God, Buddha, Mohammad, Warren Jeffs, L. Ron f’ing Hubbard…. His teeth on my lip, that was one thing, but this—his wet mouth on my skin—sends a rush of shivers to parts of my body I didn’t even know I had. “Fuck,” I whisper, and he laughs against my throat and even that feels damn good. “If you’re teasing me again,” I try to threaten, but my voice sounds way too breathy and deep.