Page 122 of Forgiving Utah

“No,” I nearly growl, then pause. “Okay, Arya may have rubbed it a bit during head once or twice. Three times max. But she never like… stuck a finger all the way in there.”

“Did you like it?”

My hips jerk involuntary. “I mean, yeah. Any straight dude who says he doesn't like a hot woman touching his asshole is lying.”

That makes him go still. “Are you saying you're straight?”

I lift my head again and turn to scowl at him. “Really? Look where we are right now. You're about to dive face-first into my chocolate starfish before putting your dick in there. I am definitely not straight.”

Devon barks out a laugh, his shoulders shaking as he bends forward to plant his forehead between my shoulder blades. “That… Jesus. Never call it that again, fucking hell.”

“Don't ask dumb questions, jackass.”

He places a lingering kiss on my back before licking his thumb to massage the sensitive skin in my crease. “Okay. You're not straight, then. Last I heard, you were just curious.”

The saliva on his finger provides some slickness, and my cock releases another spurt of precum at the sensation. “Consider my curiosity quenched. Or whatever the word is. Sated? I don't fucking know, but I really like you, and I really like your dick.”

He doesn't immediately answer, instead driving me crazy with that light, slow caress. When his thumb halts at my hole and presses in ever so slightly, a question I've been meaning to ask springs to the forefront of my mind.

Honestly, now probably isn't the right time for it, but if the answer is what I think it is, then there really isn't a right time.

Keeping my face down, I close my eyes and finally speak. “Can I ask you something?”

Devon stiffens above me, almost like he can sense where this is about to go. “Sure.”

It takes me a moment to gather my words. “The whole prep thing… Why don't you like it?”

A long stretch of silence follows the question.

“My grandparents used to send me to a religious summer camp when I was a kid,” he eventually responds, voice flat. “There was a particular counselor there who felt it was my fault for his less-than-pure thoughts, and he took it out on me in a lot of ways. I'm sure you can guess how.”

White-hot anger lances through me, and I turn to look at him over my shoulder. “What that sick fuck did was not your fault, Dev.”

His lips quirk slightly. “Easy, baby. I know that.”

Warmth blooms throughout my chest, like it usually does when he calls me that. “Did your grandparents know?”

“Nah. Only thing they noticed was when I started acting out, and they'd punish me for it.” He continues massaging me, and maybe it should feel weird while we're talking about this, but honestly… it doesn't. It's a whole new level of trust and intimacy I've never experienced with anyone before. “I refused to go back anyway once the abuse got worse, but enough damage had already been done.”

“I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that.”

His shrug jostles the mattress. “I think it's why I got so angry when my parents told me the truth about who they were. I blamed them for it, for abandoning me. Partly, I still do, but after tonight… I don't know anymore.”

My body starts to relax, his gentle touch serving as a comforting connection between us more than anything else. “It's okay not to know how to feel, especially when it comes to parents. Everyone knows they try their best, but that doesn't mean their best is enough sometimes.”

“You talking about your mom?”

“My dad,” I correct. “Yeah, he was a piece of shit, but I saw all the times he actually tried. My siblings don't remember him as I do. Maybe Carlos, a little, but it's different. When Mom kicked him out and he never came back, I was confused for a long time. Still have days when I wonder where he went and what kind of person he turned out to be. I don't think that'll ever go away.”

“Yeah.” Devon leans forward to ghost a kiss across the back of my neck. “For what it's worth, hot shot, he missed out. You're pretty amazing.”

My stomach does that weird, swoopy shit again. “So are you. Your grandparents should be proud.”

He scoffs at that, but continues to dance his lips over my skin. “I don't feel like I've done anything worthy.”

“Dude.” Twist onto my back, I give him my full attention. “Do you know how hard it is to rise above a stigma? Like, statistically speaking, kids that grew up like you did don't make it out clean.”

He doesn't respond, just bounces his gaze around my face as I continue.