Nothing horrible happened.
Nothing horrible at all.
Dillon moaned, feeling that solid body press all the way up and down his. Yes. God. He leaned in, pressing his mouth against Coke’s, needing to taste. Coke moaned for him, then those hard, square hands landed on his ass and pulled him into the kiss. Pushing back with his butt, Dillon pressed forward with his chest, moving into the kiss even more. Oh, that felt good. Tasted good.
He couldn’t fucking believe people thought this man was old. Dried up. This wasn’t dried up at all. Hell, this was sex at its prime. He could feel Coke, hard against him, and dried up was the last thing he’d say about that. The very last.
He could feel Coke’s muscles, tensing and jerking under his touch. He tugged at Coke’s starched shirt, needing to have some skin, not wanting to rush too much, but… Damn.
Coke’s belly was flat, hard, and fuzzy, and when he touched it, those hands on his ass squeezed hard.
“Look at you. I swear, you’re gonna make me crazy, Coke.” It was like a moveable feast. He kissed Coke’s neck, yanking the shirt all the way off. Coke moaned for him—the sound was deep and raw and vibrated his lips. Someone liked that. His fingers wandered, happily, pushing into the hair on Coke’s chest to find the little brown nipples. He rubbed them with his thumbs, setting the edge of his teeth to Coke’s collarbone.
“Dillon. Honey, you’ll make me. It’s been a… Oh…” The edge of desperation made him grin.
“Been a while? I hear that.” Hell, it had been what? Over a year for him, and Coke was the most exciting thing he’d ever seen. Still, he wanted to take time to savor it a little.
“Yeah.” Coke nodded, stepped back a little, and tugged at his T-shirt. “Let me see?”
“Uh-huh.” Easing away a tiny bit more, Dillon struggled out of his shirt, tossing it aside. He wasn’t as heavily muscled as Coke, but he did okay.
“Oh, sweet Jesus.” Those callused fingers trailed down his belly, those eyes burning. “Ain’t you fine?”
That had him preening, loving the feel of Coke’s hand on him. Dillon smiled, leaning into the touch. “I love the way you feel.”
Coke didn’t answer, just lifted his other hand and touched the line of Dillon’s waistband, feather-light.
“These, too?” The jeans were way too damned tight anyway. They had to go.
“Yes.”
Well, that was straightforward. Not as straightforward as the way Coke popped his button, though. Wiggling, Dillon undid his jeans and pushed them down, skinning out of his boxer-briefs, too. There. It was all hanging out.
Coke grinned at him, a little nervous. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
Well, he sure hoped not. Not bad, that was. He was hard enough to pound nails. “Now you.”
One hand reached out, wrapped around his cock, thumb sliding over the tip, the calluses rough. Hips rocking hard, Dillon moaned, just letting that touch wash through him like a tidal wave of pleasure.Oh, yes.Coke went to work, like that man’d been waiting to touch him, stroke him off.
Dillon closed his eyes for a second, letting everything focus on that touch. Then he opened them up and stared right into Coke’s eyes. “I want to see the rest of you.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Someone wasn’t listening.
“Coke.” His balls were drawing up, and he was very afraid he’d bust. Leaning in, he kissed the corner of Coke’s mouth. “Your pants.”
Coke turned, mouth meeting his fully, free hand fumbling between them. Hell, yes. It was about damned time. Dillon remembered he had hands about that time, too, pulling at Coke’s jeans, wanting in. He wanted to smell and taste…Oh. Taste.
Coke’s cock matched the rest of him—heavy, stocky, full and strong. Dillon was surprised at the heavy curls crowning it, so much darker than he’d expected.
“God.” Fighting off Coke’s hands, Dillon dropped to his knees, giving that amazing cock a closer gander. Much closer.
“Dillon.” Coke stared down like he was a mirage or something, opening and closing his fingers, over and over. “Oh, damn.”
“I got you, Coke. Promise.” Grinning, he leaned in and rubbed his cheek against Coke’s skin, feeling how hot and damp the man was.
“Gonna hold you to that.” There were fascinating scars, heavy ropy ones from bulls, tiny neat ones from surgeries, all of them teasing hisfingers.
“No problem.” Testing, Dillon licked along one hipbone, tasting Coke’s skin, enjoying the salt.
