A Healing Story (Stories Book 3) Read online

  A Healing Story

  Abrianna Denae

  Table of Contents

  Disclaimer

  Dedication

  Matthias.

  Neil.

  Matthias.

  Neil.

  Neil.

  Matthias.

  Neil.

  Neil.

  Matthias.

  Neil.

  Matthias.

  Neil.

  Matthias.

  Matthias. Age 23.

  Matthias. Age 34.

  Neil.

  Neil.

  Matthias.

  Neil.

  Matthias.

  Matthias. Age 23.

  Matthias. Age 34.

  Neil.

  Neil.

  Matthias. Age 15.

  Matthias. Age 34.

  Neil.

  Neil.

  Matthias.

  Matthias.

  Matthias. Age 23.

  Neil.

  Neil.

  Matthias.

  Neil.

  Matthias.

  Matthias. Age 23.

  Neil.

  Matthias.

  Rhys.

  Neil.

  Matthias.

  Neil.

  Matthias.

  Matthias. Age 23.

  Jamie.

  Matthias.

  Neil.

  Matthias.

  Neil.

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other books by Abrianna

  A Healing Story

  Copyright ©️2020 Abrianna Denae

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Trustees. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Disclaimer

  This book contains on page, non-graphic discussions of sexual assault

  Dedication

  For Elaina, because you taught me what true friendship is; and without that, I wouldn’t be able to write this series. I love you and miss you every single day.

  Matthias.

  The bartender slides my Jack and Coke across to me and I nod my thanks. Turning around I lean against the bar and take in my surroundings. This is only the third time I’ve been brave enough to come in, but each time it gets a little bit easier. I watch as people sit at tables and enjoy each other’s company.

  It took me months to find the courage to look this place up on the internet. When I finally pressed enter I was surprised by how many bars in my relative area cater to what I was looking for. Of course, it is twenty-eighteen.

  It takes everything I have in me not to stare when a couple a few feet away from me reach across their table and grasp hands.

  My throat tightens and my stomach twists. I take a big gulp of my drink and try to breathe out of my nose. Freaking out in the middle of a bar is never a good thing.

  The couple leans in closer, their smiles for each other light up their whole faces and the profound sense of longing makes my heart ache.

  I finish my drink and turn back around to order another. I should have gone to one of the dance clubs, even though they’re further away from where I live. At least there I would see more people hooking up instead of looking so in love with each other.

  It hurts to want what you can’t have.

  Someone bumps into me purposely. I know it was deliberate because it’s not so crowded in here that there isn’t plenty of room at the bar. I slide my empty glass across the bar and let the bartender know I need another.

  After he refreshes my drink he turns to the person who is still standing unnecessarily close to me.

  “Vodka Sprite,” they say and I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. I know how well that gesture will go over.

  Once they get their drink they turn to me. “You can relax, I’m not gonna bite, unless you’re into that.”

  I let the silky Southern accent wash over me as I take a slow, deep breath through my nose.

  I turn to the guy and find myself staring into dark brown eyes. He gives me a cocky smile and my eyes are drawn down to his full, pink lips.

  “You seem like the type who’s into a bit of rough sex, I can get behind that.”

  “Not interested,” I lie.

  “Are you sure?” He cocks his head to the side as he studies me.

  “Positive.”

  He takes a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving mine, and then walks off, his hips swaying with each step. I can’t help but watch his ass bounce in those tight pants.

  I keep watching as he slides onto a tall stool at a table where someone with long black hair and red painted lips waits for him. They both look over at me and I quickly turn back to the bar.

  After this drink, I’m out.

  I need to find a better way to cope with the feelings that constantly churn inside me because I can’t keep torturing myself like this.

  Neil.

  “Struck out, huh?” Bas’s voice is laced with amusement.

  “Not sure yet,” I murmur while turning to look at the blond hottie I left at the bar.

  He flushes when he realizes he’s been caught watching me and quickly turns to face the bar. No, I didn’t strike out it seems, but who’s going to make the next move?

  “Thought you didn’t mess with closet cases?” Bas says.

  I shrug, “that’s true when I want to date them, but a quickie in the bathroom or one-night stand doesn’t really matter. Unless they’re married of course.”

  Bas hums but doesn’t comment. I appreciate that. Because they’re right, I don’t do closet cases. And from the few times we’ve seen the guy that’s captured my interest, it’s painfully obvious that he’s deep in the closet.

  Even straight guys don’t hold themselves as rigidly as he does when they’re in here. Bas and I have been burned too many times, by guys like him, to not know what to look for. But...there’s something about this particular case that I’m drawn to. It’s not only his looks either.

  Sure, he’s tall, blond, and as I just learned, blue-eyed with a cupid’s bow that I want to bite. But it’s his aura. It’s not one of confusion or questioning or even self-hate like you get with a lot of the closeted. It’s more melancholy and I want to find out why.

  Bas and I finish our drinks and then pay the tab, as they hug me they whisper in my ear, “Good luck. Text me later.”

  I smile, “I will, drive safe.”

  “You too.” They sashay away, multiple pairs of eyes following them in their wake as they leave the bar.

  My eyes turn back to the blondie I’ve had my eye on for close to a month now. He’s still sitting at the bar, nursing the drink he got when I hit on him.

  I keep catching him sneaking glances at me but that’s it. Guess I’ll have to be the one to make the second move.

  Sliding off the stool, I head to the bathroom. As I pass him, I trail my fingers against the small of his back. I cast one glance over my shoulder at him but continue on to my destination.

  I’m washing my hands at the sink just for something to do when the door swings open and in walks my conquest.

  We stare each other down in the mirr
or as I shut the water off and hear the click of the lock. After drying my hands I turn to face him. He’s leaning against the bathroom door.

  I waste no time stepping up to him, he’s about five or so inches taller than me, which is how I like my men.

  Reaching up with one hand I grab the back of his next and bring his mouth down to mine.

  The kiss is explosive.

  It’s tongue and teeth and everything I love about kissing another man. Hands grip my waist and I’m spun around. My back hits the door and I let out a little grunt of surprise.

  Hot lips trail over my cheek and down to my neck. I moan and tilt my head for better access, deft fingers unzip my jeans.

  Shivering, I open my eyes, I don’t know when I closed them, and stare at blond hair as soft, warm fingers grip me through my briefs.

  “Fuck,” I whisper.

  “Not tonight,” he mutters, so low I almost can’t hear the words. “I want to taste you,” lust-filled blue eyes look up at me.

  “God, yes please.” I practically beg.

  “Do I need a condom?”

  I hesitate for a second—not because I’m positive, but because I’ve never gone bare before, even for a blow job—I shake my head no and he grips me harder. I groan at the delicious pressure.

  He removes his hand and I almost whimper in protest. He grabs my jeans by the waistband and shoves them down to my knees, taking my underwear along as well.

  My breath catches in my throat as he drops to his knees and grips the base of my dick. That’s the only warning I get as he sticks his tongue out and licks the head.

  I gasp when he takes half of my length into his mouth. I’m not the biggest guy around, but I’m definitely above average.

  Dark blue eyes stare up at me as he slowly retreats. It’s not the best bathroom blow job I’ve ever gotten, but that doesn’t matter. What does matter is he takes me almost all the way down on his next pass.

  I let my head fall back against the door and I moan. Giving myself over to the pleasure. The heat of his mouth, his silky, uncoordinated tongue, his hand that moves from my cock to my balls. It’s messy, but that’s what makes it perfect.

  The longer this blond stranger blows me the better it gets. It’s like he’s taking his time to learn me, even though he was so quick to drop to his knees when this all started.

  He tugs on my sac and I hiss as my slow building orgasm burns through me. Tangling my hands in soft blond hair I push him onto my dick. I savor the sound of this man gagging on me.

  My balls tighten with the need to release.

  “Where do you want my cum?”

  He pulls off me enough to rasp, “down my throat.”

  I moan and he gets back to work. It doesn’t take long after those three words.

  I clench his hair in my fists and he digs his free hand into my hip, so hard I know I’m going to have bruises.

  I come in his mouth and he swallows every drop.

  He’s still licking me as I soften. I hiss through the sensitivity and eventually slide out of his mouth.

  “Give me a minute,” I pant.

  “I’m good.” He tucks me away and then rises to his feet.

  Puffy lips descend on mine and I lick my way into his mouth so I can taste myself.

  “Thank you,” he whispers against my lips before reaching behind me, unlocking the door, and sliding me aside enough so that he can slip out.

  I need another minute or two to catch my breath and change my verdict. That was the best bathroom blow job I’ve ever gotten.

  Matthias.

  I sit in my car for a long time after leaving the bathroom. I’m shaking and it feels like I can’t catch my breath. That’s far from the first blow job I’ve given, but I have this same reaction Every. Single. Time.

  Maybe this is the deciding factor.

  Maybe I’m too fucked-up.

  Maybe my parents are right.

  Maybe wacko Jim was right.

  Being gay is something to be ashamed of.

  At least my version of gay.

  ***

  I don’t remember the drive home. I don’t remember drinking once I arrived at my apartment. I obviously did both since I woke up on my sofa, fully dressed with a bottle of Jack that maybe has a swallow or two left and I know it was at least two-thirds full yesterday.

  I stumble to the master bathroom, shedding my clothes as I go. I don’t bother waiting for the water to heat up. I jump in and let the cold jolt my system back to life.

  Once the water is warm I scrub the previous night off me. Even though I don’t want to.

  Just the thought of the curly-haired stranger has my cock filling. I’ve sucked enough dick to say that I’ve never felt that way before.

  When his dark, lust-filled eyes stared down at me, I almost came in my pants like a fucking pre-teen.

  Wrapping my hand around my dick I imagine it’s his. Those long, slender fingers that clenched my hair tight are tugging on my cock. Teasing me. Making me moan and whimper.

  My balls draw up and I use my free hand to tug at them roughly. I’m not ready to lose this fantasy.

  Dragging my thumb across the slit I gather the pre-cum there, using it to ease the way down my shaft.

  This isn’t just a quick jerk for me. I’m savoring every tug, imagining what it’d be like to have someone else do this for me. No, not just anyone, him. His smooth skin, curly hair, and dark eyes invade my memory, but it's that accent washing over me that can bring me to the edge with only words.

  I can feel his body heat, the way his fingers grip me, how he stands so close that I can feel his breath ghost across my flesh. It’s intoxicating.

  My orgasm catches me by surprise. Cum shoots from my cock, coating my hand and I feel light-headed as the pleasure washes over me.

  I take my time after coming. Gently and slowly re-washing myself. Riding the high of my fantasy. Because that’s all it’ll ever be, a fantasy.

  My phone dings with a text as I’m drying off, scooping it off the counter I read it.

  Marta: Should we expect you for dinner today?

  I cringe. Somehow she manages to sound as condescending over text as she does in person. Knowing that it’s an order rather than a question I send back my affirmative.

  Since my brother cut ties with us, my mother stopped inconveniencing everyone by hosting her monthly dinners in Charlotte. Now, she expects me to show up at my childhood home at least once a week.

  It’s painful, to say the least, but I’m not as brave as Jameson.

  ***

  When I knock on the door to my parents’ house, I only have to wait a minute or so before Rodney, my mother’s ever dutiful butler/assistant, opens the door.

  “They’re in the dining room,” he tells me as he steps back to let me in.

  Of course they are. What better way to intimidate your own child? “Thank you.”

  As I make my way through the house to the dining room, I have to remind myself to breathe. Less than five minutes in this oppressive house and I can already feel the walls closing in. I don’t know how Jameson survived growing up here. With each visit, I understand my brother a little more.

  “Nice of you to join us,” Marta says from her spot at the head of the table.

  If I didn’t have thirty-four years of practice, her cold blue gaze would freeze me in place.

  “I’m early,” I reply as I take my seat across from my father.

  “No Natalie?” she asks.

  “I told you last week that was over with. We want different things.”

  “Different things? You’re getting a little too old to play the field, aren’t you? When are you going to settle down and start a family?”

  “It’ll happen when I’m ready, Mother, and not a minute before. Please, can we have a pleasant conversation for once without having to hash out all the ways you believe I’m failing at life?”

  “When you grow up and do what you’re supposed to do,” she says primly. “Just because Jam
eson has decided he would rather be a disgrace than the man we raised him to be, doesn’t mean you get to mess around.”

  “Leave him be, Marta.” Father cuts in.

  We both look at him in surprise. Never once has he ever bothered to interfere when Jameson and I were growing up. If he did, maybe things would have been different. Maybe I would be different.

  Marta sniffs but doesn’t say anything thankfully. I shoot my father a grateful glance.

  Dinner is a silent affair but I get through it mostly unscathed, until the end that is.

  “Next week is Jameson’s birthday,” Marta says.

  “I know,” I reply. Like I could forget my brother’s birthday. I’m surprised she knows.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve spoken to him, have you?”

  “No,” I shake my head. “You know he doesn’t want to have anything to do with us.” And I don’t blame him one bit.

  “Yes, well I still think it’s ridiculous. He would rather choose his disgusting lifestyle over his family. I should have never agreed to allow him to pursue that hobby of his as a career.”

  “Photography didn’t make Jameson gay,” I say, voice strained. “Nothing did. He just is.”

  “You don’t honestly believe that, do you? Everything is a choice, Matthias.”

  I say nothing. There’s nothing I can say really. Once I would have agreed with her, to a point. But for the past year I’ve been questioning everything. Not just all my interactions with my brother, which were despicable, but my own sexuality.

  I know I need to make amends somehow for the first, I don’t know what to do with the second. While bathroom blowjobs might be a shitty way to go, they’re the only thing I have at the moment. And when it’s all said and done I feel nothing but self-loathing.

  A part of me wants to believe that it means I shouldn’t be doing it, but there’s another part that practically begs for the touch of another man. It’s wrong. On so many levels, I know that, I just don’t know what to do about it. It’s a vicious cycle that I don’t see ending anytime soon.