“Remington, fuck!” Gentry’s hands tug on the strands of hair atop my head. His grip is tight. Painful, but in a good way. “Your mouth, ahh— That feels…so damn good.”
With my mouth full, I hum as my head sinks down until he’s sitting in my throat. Swallowing around him, I relish the way he writhes beneath me. For the third time in the last twelve hours, I’ve had Gentry falling apart because of me. It’s a little after four in the morning. I woke up to pee about ten minutes ago, and when I climbed back into bed, he had rolled onto his back, and the sight was too tempting to ignore, especially considering his last words before he passed out a few hours ago.
“You enjoy suckin’ my cock, don’t you?” he asks, voice full of gravel and sleep as he uses the grip on my hair to guide mymouth the way he wants it. Having him take a little control has me all kinds of hot and bothered.
I hum again by way of response, my mouth too occupied at the moment to talk.
“Such a good boy,” he rasps and thrusts his cock deeper in my throat.
Gagging, spit dribbles out of the corner of my mouth, soaking his balls. I can’t get enough of him. I want to consume all of him, as many times as I can, in every way that I can. I’m insatiable when it comes to this man.
When Gentry brings his other hand to my head, I know he’s close. Anticipation and heat unfurl in my chest, spreading down into my groin. My cock is hard and aching, but this time isn’t about me. It’s all for him. His muscles tense, his thighs trembling as he throws his head back and lets go. Salty-sweet cum spills down my throat, his dick throbbing against my tongue. I swallow every last drop, savoring it and already wanting more.
I lay my head on the pillow beside him, and he rolls onto his side, his mouth crashing into mine. His tongue is hungry as it licks into my mouth, and he groans when he tastes himself. It doesn’t last long, but it takes my breath away anyway.
“You really know how to put a man to sleep,” he jokes, sliding his arm underneath his pillow.
“What can I say? I aim to please.”
He chuckles softly, his eyelids fluttering closed. I watch as he falls asleep again, my chest aching.
I don’t want this to end.
I want to live in this moment forever. But I already know that can’t happen.
One night.
That was the deal. It’s what I agreed to. This isn’t about feelings and intimacy for Gentry. It’s about sex. Using eachother’s bodies to find a carnal type of pleasure. It’s about a release. Nothing more, nothing less.
Once I’m sure he’s asleep, I carefully and quietly roll out of bed and get dressed. It’ll be sunrise soon, and like the creature of habit Gentry is, I’m sure he’ll be up right along with it, but I can’t be here for that. If there’s one thing last night showed me, it’s that I’m in love with Gentry Moore—probably been in love with him for longer than I realize—and it would kill me if he woke up and regretted our night together. I can’t risk seeing that on his face.
I just can’t.
I need to protect myself, and this night, and leave before it’s too late.
My throat is tight as I slip on my boots by the front door. I take one last look around, at the house I’ve been in a thousand times before, the house I’ll probably be at a million more.
But it’s different now.
This house holds our little secret. Our one night.
I agreed to this, yet as I walk out and head to my truck, I can’t help but worry I’ll never be the same again.
Twenty-Five
Gentry
Irest my hip against the edge of the counter as I bring the steaming hot coffee mug up to my mouth and take a sip. My gaze is fixed out the kitchen window. My grandson is running back and forth, chasing their dog, while his dad unloads supplies into the barn. It’s normally something I’d take care of, given that it’s the weekend, but in taking my doctor’s advice, I’ve been trying to be better about delegating more.
Tucker’s wearing his cowboy boots over his sweatpants, scuffed at the toes from chasing calves and kicking rocks, and the cowboy hat on his head is crooked and has seen better days. I smile at the sight. That boy is a ranch kid, through and through. He’s grown up with dirt between his toes and dust in his hair more often than not. Sometimes when I’m watching him, I swear I’m looking in a time machine. Tucker is the spitting image of his dad, just like Finn was the spitting image of me when I was a boy. This ranch has raised generations of Moore men.
If I wasn’t so annoyed, I’d go out there and join them, but I’ve been in a sour mood since I opened my eyes this morningand found the other side of my bed empty. And not just empty, but cold too. I knew he’d leave this morning, but I’d planned on making us breakfast before sending him off. In hindsight, it’s probably for the best that he left before sunrise. If he would’ve woken up with me, there’s no way he would’ve been able to sneak out of here without getting caught by Finn. I should feel thankful that our night remained a secret, but all I feel is disappointment.
Setting my coffee on the counter, I meander through the house, toward my bedroom. Most mornings, I make my bed first thing, but Remington’s absence is messing with my head. Or rather, my reaction to his absence. After I finish tucking the comforter, I fluff both pillows, but stop in my tracks when I get to the one Remington used. His scent surrounds me, sending heat down my spine.
Last night didn’t go how I thought it would. I opened up to him in ways I’ve never done before, but I don’t regret it. I don’t regret any of it. And I don’t feel ashamed about who it was in my bed last night. I keep waiting for it to kick in. The guilt for sleeping with my son’s best friend, the shame for finding comfort in a man half my age, and a little bit of both for how badly I want it to happen again. The only thing I regret is that I insisted it be just for one night.
It felt so goddamn good to touch another man’s body. To have him touch me. It’s been way too long since I’ve had that, and even longer since I’ve felt that level of intimacy. Actually, now that I think about it, I’m not sure if I’ve ever experienced intimacy and sex like that.
