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“I’m fine,” I promised him. “God, please, just…more.”

Inch by inch he slid inside of me, and when his body was pressed against me, he stopped again, allowing me to adjust to the fullness that was not quite pain, but not yet the pleasure I’d been expecting.

“Are you okay?” Andy asked, skimming his hand up my back.

“If you ask me that one more time—”

“You’ll what?” he asked, pulling back and pushing forward again.

“Fuck!” I cried. “Do that again.”

“This?” He did it again. And again. Slowly but steadily moving inside me. “Trevor, you look so fucking good stretched open around my cock. Do I look this pretty when you’re fucking me?”

“More,” I promised him. “Your ass was made to be fucked by me.”

His pace increased, his thrusts becoming harder, his fingers digging into my hips as he pulled me back to meet him.

Then he shifted, the tip of his cock hitting my prostate with every thrust and I cried out as I came, wave after wave of pleasure convulsing my muscles as my cock spilled my release into the pillow beneath me.

“Jesus fuck, Trevor,” Andy yelled as he followed me over the edge.

I could feel his cum pumping through his shaft into me and I shuddered as aftershocks from my own orgasm tensed through me.

He pulled free from my body and I suddenly felt so empty that I wanted to cry. But then he was lying next to me, pulling me into his arms, kissing me deeply and I swear to fuck I’d never felt so loved in my entire life.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that. To admit that this just for now shit wasn’t enough. But I couldn’t do that to him.

I loved him too much.

And when the time came that I had to let him go, I would. Because the only thing in the world I wanted more than to be with him, was for him to be happy.

Even if it cost me everything to watch him walk away.

Chapter Thirty

~Andy~

“This is a stupid plan,” Caitlyn complained as we headed out of the apartment together. “They’re going to want to see you.”

“I doubt it,” I argued. “And I’m going. I’m just going to try to avoid them.”

“You can hang with my family,” Trevor said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “They love you. Probably more than they love me.”

“What?”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “All I heard through high school was why can’t you be like that nice Andy Simpson?” He rolled his eyes. “Delia wasn’t the only reason I hated you back then.”

“Still don’t know who she is,” I reminded him.

“Delia Carmichael?” Caitlyn asked, stopping and turning to look at Trevor. “The blonde airhead that boned half the school?”

“That’s her,” he agreed.

“Still not ringing any bells,” I said. “I never met her.”

“Yes you did,” Caitlyn insisted, laughing. “Your senior year. She followed you around constantly. Always waiting by your locker, dropping shit so you’d pick it up for her, clinging to you every chance she got.”

“That was Delia Carmichael?” I asked, my eyes widening in surprise. “I thought she was like a foreign exchange student or something. She never spoke a word to me.”