“You could… There’s room in the closet and dresser for you, if you want, honey…”
“I do want. I want all sorts of stuff.” Look at that blush. Coke was a joy, and Dillon figured he needed to remember to slow up a little. They’d come a long way really fast.
“Well, then. There’s nothing but a couple boxes on the right-hand side of the chest of drawers.” Coke’s hand slid over his back, almost feather light. “Make yourself at home, son. You’re welcome here.”
“Coke, we’ve talked about you calling me son.” That just wasn’t gonna work. Pressing his leg against Coke’s crotch, Dillon leaned close for another kiss. To prove he wasn’t feeling childlike.
“Mmm. Force of habit, cowboy.” Coke leaned closer, stubble tickling his lips before one soft kiss turned into a second long, deep kiss.
“Damn. You feel good.” This was surreal. Here, in Coke’s house, finally getting what he’d wanted. Again.
“I do. This is like a damn dream.” Coke’s hands were fascinated by his ass. It rocked.
“A good one, right?” Dillon pushed his ass back, let Coke get a good grip.
Those fingers dug in, squeezing him good and firm. “Yeah. Yeah, Dillon.”
“We could go get groceries a little later. Occupy ourselves while we wait for the pool to filter.” Only if Coke wasn’t too sore from driving.
“We could.” Coke’s tongue slid along his bottom lip, slow and sexy as could be.
Oh, yay. Wrapping his arms around Coke’s neck, Dillon nibbled, teasing Coke back with his tongue. They scooted toward the bed, one slow step after another, taking it slow.
Coke’s legs hit the bed first, the quilts sliding a little, and Dillon held on, just to make sure the man kept his balance. He didn’t want anything to ruin this. He got a quick little grin, and Coke settled, drawing him down onto Coke’s lap.
“Hi there.” Straddling he was good at, even if he wasn’t a bull rider. He used his thigh muscles a lot more than twenty-four seconds a weekend. Dillon kissed Coke’s lower lip, pulling at it a tiny bit with his teeth before heading to kiss that jagged scar that was starting to lose its puff and bruise.
“Mmm. Hey.” He felt Coke jerk beneath him, felt the way those strong muscles went tight. “You’re so fine.”
“Yeah? Most of the guys think I’m silly.” That was okay, too, but damn it was nice to know Coke thought he was good to gaze upon—to rub on.
“No. No. So damn hot.” Oh. Oh, yeah. That, ladies and gents? That was a possessive, horny little growl that was all his.
“You’re a stud, Coke.” There was not a bit of irony there. He really thought Coke was the shit. Dillon rewarded the growl with another kiss, then another. Coke worked his T-shirt up, baring his belly, fingers sliding right down to play with his short hairs.
Damn. All of a sudden he was shaking, scrabbling at Coke’s clothes. Slow and easy wasn’t an option anymore.
Coke leaned back, wincing a little as he landed on the bed.
“You okay, babe? You need something else massaged before I ride you into oblivion?” There was no way he was gonna do this if Coke was hurting. They could just go take a shower.
“I’m good. Just a little stiff.” Coke chuckled, eyes rolling. “Pun intended.”
“Mmm. ‘Kay. Now, you said something about lube?” He worked at Coke’s clothes, wanting them gone.
“I did. You see that wee drawer? It’s in there. I’ll get it.”
“Nope. I got it.” He was facing forward anyway. Dillon scrambled, opening the drawer and kind of staring. Just a little.
There was well-used tube of KY and a dildo all wrapped up in a plastic bag—which, okay, gave him joy. Better than that, there was a picture. Of him.
Coke slid away from him, and when he looked, the man was flushed dark red.
“I’m sorry, cowboy. I told you… I been watching.”
Oh. God almighty. His cock jumped, thinking about Coke jacking off to him. For him. That little blush made it…Uhn. “Why are you sorry, babe?” Dillon crawled back over, then patted Coke’s chest.
“I just… It makes me feel like a perv. I just… You make me all…” Coke gestured to that hard, heavy cock. Yeah. Yeah, he did that.
