August moved his hands back to his shoulders instead, wrapping around the edge of his deltoid muscles and pulling him back.
“It is,” he said, leaning down and speaking into Dylan’s ear while holding him pressed against his front. “It’s going to be very nice.”
Ryker grabbed the front of his jacket, giving it a little tug. He smirked. “And I get you on the ride back to the apartment.”
“We flipped a coin,” August said, voice rumbling.
Ryker stepped away and Dylan felt like he could breathe again.
“Come on, we don’t want to be late.” Ryker walked over to the SUV, unlocking it with a fob from his pocket. He opened the driver’s side door and climbed behind the wheel.
“Let’s go,” August said, squeezing Dylan’s shoulders one more time. He lifted his hands off his shoulders. “We don’t want to keep Ryker waiting.”
He put his hand on Dylan’s upper back, nudging him forward and guiding him over to the SUV. It reminded Dylan vividly of how he’d led him from the waiting area to the examination room when he’d gotten his mole removed.
It felt like a lifetime ago, even though it was less than a week.
“Watch your head,” August said, opening the rear door and waiting for Dylan to climb inside.
The backseat of the SUV was luxurious and spacious, but lacked anything resembling a new-car smell. Instead, the interior was saturated with the pleasantly musky scent that Dylan had come to associate with werewolves. It carried with it notes of the woods, leather and the faintest hint of freshly tilled earth.
They probably used this car when they drove out to the preserve to go running on full moons, Dylan realized.
He climbed into the back of the SUV, August coming up right behind him, and slid across to the other side of the SUV and put on his seatbelt. His stomach was bubbling with excitement.
Instead of keeping to his side of the SUV, August took the middle seat and planted his boots wide. Dylan had to either move his feet awkwardly to the side or let August’s boot rest between his ankles.
August draped his arm over Dylan’s shoulders, tucking him neatly into the space under his arm.
He didn’t put on his seatbelt.
“This is nice,” August said, arm curled around the back of Dylan’s neck. He smelled like leather, and Dylan could feel the strength of his bicep against the side of his neck. August ruffled his hair, messing it up, and then slid his hand down to rest on his chest.
Dylan looked down at his front, his cock twitching at the sight of August’s massive hand encased in the bulky motorcycle glove pressing against the front of his jacket. August curled his fingers, the tips of his gloves scratching the area right over his nipple.
The touch sent little sparks of pleasure dancing down his spine.
“Very nice,” Dylan agreed, swallowing.
August bent his neck and pushed his nose into Dylan’s hair, tightening his arm and pulling Dylan’s face into his chest.
It took Dylan a second to realize that he’d been put in a headlock. His face was mushed into the front of August’s leather jacket, and August’s arm was wrapped tight around his neck, forcing it to bend in a decidedly uncomfortable angle.
“Ready to go?” Ryker asked from the front.
“Yes,” August said, the word sending a puff of air down into Dylan’s hair. He buried his nose deeper, and as he looked down, Dylan realized that he was kneading the considerable bulge in his leather pants with his free hand.
Dylan’s stomach clenched, his whole lower body tingling with butterflies. He couldn’t move an inch, his face immobilized so that all he could see was August’s big hand touching himself, and he was loving it.
August kept sniffing him as Ryker started the car and pulled away from the curb.
Dylan was pretty sure that the only thing keeping August from pulling him onto his lap was the fact that he was tethered to his seat by his seatbelt.
“Are you letting him breathe?” Ryker asked, a note of warning in his voice.
“Yes,” August said, though he relaxed his arm.
“Are you going to put on your own seatbelt?”
