“Mm-hmm,” he responded, giving into sleep’s insistent call.
* * *
I woke hours later to his hand on my chest and his face in my armpit.
“Hey there, country boy,” I said, dragging him up so I could kiss his nose.
“Hey there, fancy dresser,” he replied, grinning.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, inhaling our combined scents on his formerly clean linens.
He stretched and smiled. “Recovered and ready for round two. Or three, if we’re counting the roadside delights.”
“Oh, we’re definitely counting that. You sure you’re ready?” I asked, kissing his brows.
“Mm, so hard and ready,” he said, pushing his erection against my hip.
“It’d be a tragedy to let that go to waste,” I said. “What can I do to help?”
“Let me into you. Let me try to make you feel half as good as you made me feel earlier.”
“Walker—” I shifted my fingers through his silky hair. “—having you in my arms like this already makes me feel just as good.”
He stared at me. I stared back.
“I prefer doggy when bottoming,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to his dusky lips. “That work with your knee, or?—?”
I cut myself off when I saw his face. It was as if I told him that Christmas had come early, we were going to Disney World, and there would be ice cream, all at once.
“My knee can take it,” he breathed out, sitting up, perfectly displaying all those hardworking muscles. “Also, it’s been pointed out to me that I’ve been staring at your ass for a year, so I’d want to do it regardless.”
Grinning, I rolled over, slow and lazy, sliding my arms up under the pillows, until I rested on my forearms and laid my cheek against the soft material. In no particular hurry, I slowly raised my hips, undulating as I went.
I heard a low whistle as he settled in between my legs. “I wanna touch you so bad.”
“Touch me,” I begged. “Please put your hands on me.”
So he did. I turned my head to the side so I could watch him. The wonder in his eyes as he ran his hands up and down my back stirred something deep inside me. The way he whispered “Fuck, so beautiful” as his fingers drifted over my ribs brought back those fantasies of children with curly hair and eyes so blue you’d weep to look into them.
He massaged my back and shoulders, achy from our earlier work, and slowly made his way down to my hips and, finally, my ass. He let out a groan of satisfaction, growling, “Fuck me.”
“No, Walk. Fuckme.”
He chuckled, kneading my glutes as I buried my face in the pillow and allowed myself to indulge in the sensations as his hesitation turned to confidence. He spread me open, and I jumped as his hot tongue slid over my balls. He slid up my taint, past the nervy circle of tight muscle, all the way to my lower back.
He drew sounds from me I’d never made for another person. I was lowing like a cow in labor as his curious tongue found different parts of me to explore—my balls, the shelf of my ass—his hands spreading my cheeks the entire time, giving me not a moment of peace. When he finally let go, it was to suit up and slick himself.
Using his fingers, he copied the way I’d helped him relax and open up. Even though he was thorough, when he pushed the head of his cock against my hole, I had to force myself to breathe. His fat head stretched me so perfectly, with just a hint of pain to add to the mix. He was careful, perhaps more than he had to be, but I let him find his way. When he bottomed out, I sighed heavily.
“Too much?” he asked, drawing away from me.
I reached back and grabbed his hip, forcing him forward again. “Just keep splitting me in two.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He sped up and angled his hips.
“Fuck, baby. You found it. Keep doing exactly that for me.”
In that moment, I remembered that he’d been an athlete like me, and he’d never lost his physical sharpness. Being on the receiving end of his focused efforts was amazing. He was new at this, so very green, yet it was as if all the component pieces fit together in his head.
