“I don’t need you to keep an eye on me.”
Preacher shrugged. “Maybe I want my eyes on you.” The words were out before he could stop them.
He expected Memphis to run, but, instead, he watched his blue eyes dilate. “Just your eyes?”
“I’m pretty sure you already know the answer to that. But that’s for you to decide.”
Memphis gave him one last long look over his shoulder before heading into the bedroom. He didn’t close the door.
Preacher plopped down, tucking the gun between the back of the couch and the cushion. It was going to be a long goddamn night.
Memphis couldn’t sleep. And for the first time in a long time, it had nothing to do with nightmares or panic attacks. It was sleeping in a bed that smelled just like Preacher. It was knowing exactly how Preacher’s mouth tasted, how soft his tongue was, the way his hands had gripped Memphis’s ass and ground their bodies together, like he wanted Memphis as much as Memphis wanted him.
He didn’t know what to do with that information. He was equal parts terrified and turned on. It was hard to sleep when one was both scared and horny. Part of his brain was like you might not live much longer, you should go get laid while you still can, but the other part screamed that this wasn’t the time or place for him to try to mount the man who saved his brother. The man who seemed hellbent on trying to save him, too.
He punched the pillow before burying his face in it and wondered how often Preacher laid there at night jerking off. Memphis groaned into the pillow. He was acting like such a perv. He wanted to reach into his borrowed sleep pants and wrap his hands around his cock and pretend it was Preacher’s fist.
The door wasn’t even closed. Preacher could be awake in the other room. What was he doing out there? Was he lying there thinking of Memphis? Was he as turned on as Memphis was? Why jerk off when the real thing is waiting right outside the door? his dick argued.
Because his brother was also somewhere just beyond the door and people were trying to kill him. Maybe kill both of them. Luke had taken a bite of something out there in the woods, and while Preacher had sounded confident it was simply an animal, Memphis wasn’t so convinced. Honestly, he didn’t think Preacher was convinced either.
Was there any way to even know? If there was a fence around the property, how did animals even get in there? Memphis didn’t know much about the woods, but he did understand physics, and the slats in the fence were covered with razor wire and what looked like an electric fence. Wouldn’t animals naturally stay away?
He made a frustrated noise. Why was he stressing about animals in the woods? He had kissed Preacher. He’d crawled into his lap like he was Preacher’s own personal private dancer and then run away only to flirt with him again a minute before crawling into bed for the night with his second raging hard-on in less than an hour. Was it really possible to die of blue balls?
Fuck. Maybe he could just go into the bathroom. And do what? Jerk off in the shower? The sink? Somehow, both those options seemed worse than getting off in a stranger’s bed. And Preacher was a stranger. A total stranger. They’d known each other for less than two days. Hell, Memphis knew the UPS guy at the flower shop better than he knew Preacher, but that wasn’t stopping Memphis’s cock from throbbing at the thought of Preacher’s hands skimming over his belly or playing with his nipples or the thought of his mouth sucking Memphis’s cock. All those things Memphis had spent years denying himself suddenly felt like a bucket list, and he wanted Preacher ticking off the boxes.
Yeah, he was a total pervert. It had been such a long time since he’d lived with another person. He didn’t even know how. He’d learned growing up that there was no safe place to jerk off and that you had to just get comfortable with the idea that you were going to walk in on your brother doing something sexual to himself or somebody else and there was nothing to be done about it.
Nash had never hesitated to bust in on Memphis while he was in the shower, as if hoping he’d catch him jerking off. And he had, more than once. And he’d told everybody about it like the dick that he was. Which was why Memphis should absolutely not roll over onto his back and slide his hand down his pants and wrap his hand around his cock.
Except, he already was. He licked his palm first, just to help get him started. He was already leaking. It had been so long since anybody had touched him. Once he was stroking himself, he slid his other hand up under his shirt, the pads of his fingers teasing his nipples, pretending it was Preacher’s rough hands on his body, closing his eyes and imagining the gravel in Preacher’s voice as he whispered all the dirty things he wanted to do to Memphis.
Memphis wanted it, too. He wanted all of it. Preacher’s hands, his lips…his teeth and tongue and cock. Fuck, especially his cock. He canted his hips up into his fist, thumb sliding over the tip, catching the fluid there and working it over his shaft. He wanted Preacher on top of him, inside him. Fuck. What would it be like to have Preacher’s fingers work him open slowly, his weight pressing Memphis down into the mattress as he invaded his body, splitting him in two?
Memphis clamped his teeth down on his lip, biting back a moan. He wanted Preacher’s name on his tongue. He wanted to know what it felt like to beg for what he wanted, to know that he was with somebody who wouldn’t hesitate to give it to him. Preacher wouldn’t hesitate. Memphis was sure of it. Preacher was a giver. The notion was so absurd Memphis would have laughed if he wasn’t so fucking close to blowing his load already. Just the thought of Preacher had him on edge, his nerve endings tingling, his heart racing and his hips driving up into his tightened fist.
“Preacher,” he whispered. Oh, fuck. Right there. Right there. Fuck, don’t stop.
Please, I’m so close. You feel so good. So good. Please. His inner monologue was enough to get him there. He pressed his fist against his mouth, teeth clamping down on his skin as he came on his stomach, riding out the aftershocks in silence when he really wanted to shout. He couldn’t remember the last time he came that hard.
When his heart rate and breathing returned to normal, he realized he had an even bigger problem. No way to clean up his mess. The bathroom was in the other hallway, and to get to the other hallway meant passing Preacher. He would notice the mess on what had been a clean shirt only moments ago.
He looked down at Preacher’s white sheets. What choice did he have? He used the end of the top sheet to wipe off his chest and belly, promising himself he’d find an excuse to wash the sheets. Did Preacher even own a washer? That was tomorrow’s problem. The drama of the day and his mind-blowing orgasm had his eyes at half-mast before he could even drop the sheet in his hand.
* * *
He woke in the exact same position he fell asleep in, sprawled on his back, clenching Preacher’s sheet, his shirt hiked up around his ribs. He dropped the sheet, rubbing his eye with his other hand, trying to clear it enough for him to read the time on the clock. Ten-thirty. Holy shit. Memphis jumped out of bed and lurched himself towards the door. From across the living room, he could see Knox and Preacher in the kitchen.
Knox was sitting, legs criss-crossed, on the counter with a metal bowl in his hands. He was stirring something with a wooden spoon. Preacher was moving around the kitchen in that self-assured way people can only do in their own home. He had on the same jeans from last night but no shirt. Preacher in clothes was nice. Preacher out of them was so sinful it should be a felony. He was a lot larger than Memphis had realized at first. He had a tattoo of a skull on his left pec and some kind of ink on his bicep. Somehow, Preacher shirtless looked more dangerous than Preacher fully clothed, and Memphis didn’t want to look too closely at why.
He swallowed hard before forcing himself to walk to the kitchen. “Morning,” he muttered, voice raw.
“Morning,” Preacher said, all but purring the word. It really wasn’t fair that this man could have that effect on another human being with just a single word.
“Sorry, I slept so late.”
Preacher frowned. “Why? You didn’t miss anything. We watched some rather disturbing cartoons on the Cartoon Network, and now, we’re making breakfast. Right, Knox?”
