Page 55 of Hollow

Look at how I’m fucking your tonsils.

Such a quick learner, such a good boy.

That’s it, that’s my boy, deeper now.

I’ve got you.

He takes direction like a dream, this big, brutal man bound to me for the evening, and it’s not long before I’m telling him to gulp me up as I spray down his throat. I come hard and long, my eyes going back in my head, the knot inside me going off like a grenade.

I grunt and let loose a stream of expletives, and he doesn’t falter, he doesn’t stop, until he’s absolutely milked me dry.

I stare down at him and yank his head back, a string of spit running from my spent cock to his wet mouth. “You did so well,” I tell him. “I think you deserve a reward. Tell me what you’d like.”

He stares at me with unreadable eyes. At first, I think they’re still heavy with lust, at not having gotten his release. I would be willing to grant him that. But then I realize it’s not lust at all but a different kind of need. One that pains him.

“A place to stay for a few days,” he says in a strained voice. “A bed and someone to share it with.” He pauses, and I’ve never seen a sorrier man to hold my cock before. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Shame. It had been a while since I felt it, but I suppose I was due.

Did this man just suck me off in exchange for a place to sleep? Nothing else?

I clear my throat, tucking my cock back into my pants after he lets go. “Of course. You can stay here as long as you like.”

His eyes brighten briefly at that. Relief.

“Truth be told, I haven’t had anyone stay the night for a long time,” I admit. “Man or woman,” I add. He just nods, taking that information in stride. “It would be nice for me too.”

I go and grab him a towel, holding it out for him as he climbs out of the bath, and then I wrap it around his shoulders, gathering the ends at the base of his throat. I place my hand on his cheek briefly, his beard soft and wet, and give him a kind smile. “Let’s have a drink.”

Chapter 17

Kat

Brom is back.

He’s back and in my classroom, of all the places to show up.

How is this possible?

Crane meets my eyes, and in them, it’s more than obvious that he knows Brom, except he knows him as Abe. His expression is torn but then quickly melts into his teacher mask, chin raised, eyes turning a cool grey, though the curiosity in them can’t be quenched. He never looks so alive as he does when he can’t figure something out.

I look back at Brom, meeting his eyes now, and though they don’t seem to acknowledge the professor at all, I realize I can’t just stare at him open-mouthed like this, frozen in time.

“Brom?” I manage to say, my voice coming out high and squeaky.

He gets out of his seat, and my goodness, has he grown. Not just up—he’s still around six feet or so—but in terms of muscle. He’s really earning that moniker of Brom Bones now.

“Kat?” he says, and the sound of his voice brings relief flooding through me.

This is him.

This is him.

The entire class is watching as he strides toward me and envelops me in a huge hug, his arms wrapping around me with near bone-breaking strength. He smells like he always did, like bonfires on an autumn night, warm and cold at the same time. He smells like my childhood, my teenage years. He smells like a home I thought I’d lost.

“Oh God,” I whisper against him, burying my head in his chest, the scratchy wool of his coat harsh on my skin, tears threatening to come down my cheeks. “It’s really you.”

“You’ve changed,” he says, his large palm at the back of my head, cradling it. “You’re a woman now.”