His cock hung between his legs, half-hard, thick and heavy, the slight curve to the left I remembered from yesterday night when we'd been too wrecked to do anything about it. His thighs were massive. His body was solid. Everything about him was built for work and endurance and sustained effort that started slow and didn't stop until the job was finished.
He moved toward the bed. Climbed onto it with his hands first, then his knees, crawling forward over me on all fours. His body hovering above mine. The damp from his skin pressing cool against the heat of mine through the thin air between us. His face hovered above me. His mouth inches from my mouth.
"Hi." His word came quiet. Almost amused.
"Hi."
He kissed me. Soft at first—his lips against mine, gentle, a kiss that belonged to the mornings we'd spent lying next to each other. Then his tongue found mine and the gentleness burned off in a rush.
His mouth opened wider. My hand found the back of his damp head and pulled him harder against me. The kiss went from tender to consuming in two heartbeats—teeth catching lips, his groan vibrating against my tongue, two days of unfinished business igniting between us.
He pulled back. His breath uneven against my face. His hands found the sheet covering my waist and pulled it down. Slow. His eyes following the fabric as it slid past my stomach, my hips.
My cock was hard against my abdomen. I slept naked. Had since the army. His gaze dropped to it and a low sound came out of him—a groan that vibrated through his chest, raw and involuntary.
He looked up at me. The blue eyes warm. Playful. Almost innocent, which was a lie his mouth was about to disprove.
"Fuck..." The word left me when his hand wrapped around my cock. Slow grip. Firm. His thumb tracing the vein along the side, making my hips lift off the mattress.
He held my eyes for one more second. Then he looked down at my cock in his hand and lowered his mouth.
He swallowed me to the base in a single drop. No buildup. No teasing. Just the wet heat of his mouth swallowing my entire length, his throat opening around me, his nose pressing against my abdomen. The sensation was so sudden and so total that the sound I made was a noise that came from the deepest of me.
"Jesus—fuck—" My hands found his damp hair. My fingers tightening involuntarily.
He sucked me slow, long strokes from tip to base, his lips tight around the shaft, his tongue doing things on the head that made my vision lose focus. His left hand found my balls—cupping, rolling, a gentle counterpoint to the firm suction of his mouth. His right hand wrapped around the base and stroked when my dick wasn't all the way down his throat.
I was cursing in a mix of English and Spanish that I couldn't control.Fuckandsíandno parestumbling out between ragged breaths while his mouth worked me over like he'd been planning this since the shower.
He pulled off. His lips wet. His eyes on mine.
"Sit up. Higher against the headboard."
I moved. Propped myself against the pillows and the wall behind them. He turned around. Positioned himself on his hands and knees above me, facing away, and the sight of him—the broad back, the V-taper to his waist, and below it, his big muscular cowboy ass—hit me with a force that wiped every remaining thought from my head.
His hole. Pink against the pale skin that the sun never reached, a contrast with the bronze of his back. I gripped his hips and pulled him backward toward my face.
I buried my tongue as deep as I could in his hole.
The moan that came out of Logan was loud. Guttural. A sound that carried through the walls of my room and into the corridor and I did not give a single fuck who heard it
I licked him from his balls to his hole, circling the rim, pressing in, feeling the muscle give under my tongue. His taste was clean from the shower. His hips rocked against my face. I gripped his ass with both hands, spreading his ass cheeks wider, and pushed my tongue deeper.
"Diego—oh fuck—" His voice was cracked. Wrecked.
He leaned forward and took my cock back into his mouth, and the circuit closed—his mouth on my throbbing dick, my tongue on his perfect pink hole, the wet sounds filling the small room while his body rocked between the two points of contact. I ate him out until his thighs were shaking against the sides of my head and his moans around my cock were sending vibrations through my entire body.
He suddenly pulled forward. Rose onto his knees, his back still to me. Reached behind himself and found my cock—slick with his spit, hard to the point of aching. He positioned the head against his hole.
"Fuck, you're so fucking big." His voice was wrecked. He started to lower himself. Slow. The pressure built as his body opened around me. His ass took the head, then the shaft, inch by inch.
I smacked his ass. Hard enough to leave a mark. The crack was loud in the room.
"Fuck!" The sound that came out of him was half pain, half something much better. It made him drop faster. The last few inches disappeared inside him in a rush until he was seated fully, his round ass cheeks pressed against my hips, every inch of my cock buried in him.
I grabbed his waist. He looked back over his shoulder at me, and what I saw in his face stopped being playful. It was hunger. Pure, focused.
He started to ride me. Not slow. Not tentative. Hard. His hips rolled in a back-and-forth rhythm that dragged my cock through him—forward until just the head remained, then backward until his ass hit my hips with a smack.
