All of the Voices by Bailey Bradford (little red riding hood read aloud txt) 📗

in time, because Matt couldn’t hold back a chuckle. It was kind of funny to him, but he was used to Conner’s antics.

The enchiladas were done, the cheese and sauce bubbling hot. Matt set them on the pot holder then warmed up tortillas and some refried beans he had in the freezer. Dinner was ready and on the table when Carlin walked back into the kitchen looking more than a little pissed.

“Severo say something that made you mad?” Matt asked, prepared to come to Carlin’s defense.

“No,” Carlin ground out as he crossed his arms over his chest. “He listened and was very sympathetic. He said he’d see what he could do. It was all very nice and chummy, then I got off the phone and someone decided to be a jackass—”

Matt couldn’t help it, he laughed until he was able to rein it in. Carlin looked so disgruntled, and Conner, from what Matt knew of his spirit at least, would think it was great fun to poke at the man.

“It’s not funny,” Carlin huffed, but his lips were curling up in a smile a devious gleam sparkled in his eyes. “I mean, Conner is getting his ghostly hands on my ass a lot more than you are.”

That stopped Matt from laughing anymore. “That isn’t funny. Conner better cut it out or I’ll have to think about calling those guys on the Syfy channel.”

Matt yelped as his ass was slapped, then a whirlwind gusted over him and disappeared.

“Guess he didn’t like that threat.”

They sat down to dinner and the conversation turned to Mrs. Hawkins. Matt told Carlin about the first time he went on a call to her house, and Carlin laughed until his eyes watered.

“I really had no idea she was doing that, but it was nice of Laine not to tear into her or threaten to press charges against her for it.” Carlin swiped at his cheeks before taking another bite of enchiladas. He moaned as he pulled the bite of food off his fork. “These are the best enchiladas I’ve had in years.”

“Better than the little hole in the wall place in New York?” Matt asked and immediately regretted it.

Carlin’s smile slipped as he looked away. “Yeah, even better than that.”

Carlin’s chest ached, not a physical pain, not really, it was more of a hollowed out feeling that he’d never felt before. He was very much afraid it was the beginnings of a broken heart, and if it got much worse, he was going to be a blubbering mess. Carlin ate another bite of enchiladas then pushed his plate away.

There were so many things he was grieving for—Aunt Mary, his father, the coming loss of the man across from him—but Carlin didn’t want to spend his last night with Matt mourning any of those things. There’d be time enough for that once he left. Right now, he wanted to feel Matt’s arms around him, listen to the steady beat of the man’s heart as Carlin rested his head on Matt’s chest. And he wanted to make love, something he hadn’t really taken the time to do, not when he hadn’t met anyone as special as Matt Nixon.

Matt looked across the table at him and the hollow feeling spread. He was going to lose this before they even had a real chance to explore the depth of their feelings.

“Carlin, don’t,” Matt whispered as he stood and held out his hand. “Let me hold you for a while.”

Carlin wanted to weep, to rail against the choices he was being forced to make, but more than that, he wanted what Matt offered. He rose and put his hand in Matt’s, then looked back at the table.

“We should put the food up and do the dishes.”

Matt tugged on his hand and started leading him to the bedroom. “I’ll handle it in a while. This is more important.”

In the bedroom, Matt slowly stripped Carlin’s clothes off, kissing and stroking every bit of skin he uncovered. Carlin felt worshiped, adored by the one man he wanted most as Matt knelt before him and kissed his stomach, his hips, the tops of his thighs.

Matt stood and kissed him gently, a lover’s kiss that bespoke an emotion neither of them would utter. Carlin put his arms around Matt’s neck and opened for him, kissing Matt back with a tenderness he’d never known he had in him.

“Carlin,” Matt murmured against his lips, then nothing more as he kissed Carlin again. Carlin closed his eyes and committed the kiss to memory—the taste, the texture, the exact pressure of Matt’s lips on his.

Eventually Matt stepped back and Carlin opened his eyes and helped him undress. Carlin stroked the thick chest hair, the taut nipples, the delineated abs and last, the long, jagged scar that was a sign of his lover’s strength.

Together they walked to the bed and Carlin sighed as he was gently laid out on his back. Matt covered him from calves to chest, but kept his weight on his elbows. Carlin wouldn’t have cared if he’d borne the brunt of Matt’s weight. He wanted to sink into the man and never be free.

“Carlin,” Matt said again, then kissed him, slowly at first, until the passion flared between them and neither could get enough. Matt licked and nibbled a trail down Carlin’s chin, and Carlin thought he might just melt into a puddle on the bed. He started to reach for Matt’s back, wanting to feel the shift and roll of muscles but remembered the injuries from Robbie Red.

Carlin clutched at Matt’s biceps instead as Matt worked his way down to Carlin’s chest. Carlin’s nipples were sucked and laved, then bitten when the lighter touches were no longer enough. Carlin didn’t start babbling as he normally did, instead he let the moans and whimpers convey his pleasure.

Matt rumbled his approval and licked a path down Carlin’s stomach. His naval was licked and sucked, a new and erotic experience that had Carlin bucking his hips. His cockhead bumped