“Tell me.”
“Yes. God, yes.” He relaxed as Trey shifted and moved, his cock aligning once more, but this time he was pushing in slowly, gently, stretching him wide as he filled him.
“So tight,” Trey groaned. “You feel so fuckin’ good, Magnus. Too fuckin’ good.”
The pain … it was there, but it was manageable. To the point Magnus focused solely on the pleasure, the feel of Trey on top of him, the choppy breaths he was taking as he sank in deeper.
Trey retreated, pushed in. Shallow strokes meant to torment, Magnus knew. He did that until Magnus was breathing hard once more, panting and eager. When Magnus groaned Trey’s name, the man thrust his hips forward and drove in as deep as he could.
A guttural groan escaped him, followed by another as Trey began rocking his hips, burying himself impossibly deep. Only when Magnus was begging for more did Trey comply. Next thing Magnus knew, he was on all fours, Trey pounding into him from behind, again and again, his fingers curling over Magnus’s shoulders as he held him firmly in place.
Trey grunted, groaned, and continued to plow into him. Magnus’s muscles locked as the pleasure—so intense it was damn near painful—had him shouting Trey’s name as that mounting tension came dangerously close to shattering.
“Fuck,” Trey hissed. “Come for me, Magnus.”
He did. A storm of sensation overwhelmed his body and mind, had him groaning low in his throat as his orgasm ripped right through him.
Before the electrical storm waging war inside him could settle, Trey slammed into him one final time and growled his name in a way that had Magnus praying there would be a round two.
Back in the present, Magnus downed the rest of his beer. His entire body was hard, aching and desperate for the release he’d found that night. He hadn’t found it since, despite numerous attempts.
Glancing over at Trey, he saw the man was watching him. And if he had to guess, Trey was reliving that night right along with him.
Magnus knew there was only one way to handle a man like Trey Walker.
“Take me home with you, Trey,” he said, his voice low, eyes serious. “What do you have to lose?”
Chapter Thirteen
Trey raised a hand, ordered another beer.
It was the only thing he could think to do to stall.
What he should’ve been doing was telling Magnus he was out of his fucking mind. That there was no way he was taking him home.
No.
Fucking.
Way.
Dammit.
He was going to take Magnus home.
It was inevitable and Trey knew it as well as he knew his own fucking name. He’d spent far too much time thinking about that night. His memories were so powerful, there were times Trey wondered if it had really happened at all. Surely his imagination had taken a decent fuck and turned it into an epic moment. No way had those sensations been real.
There was one way for him to be sure though. He could take Magnus up on his offer. They could go for round two, see if it lived up to the hype. When it didn’t, Trey would know with certainty, and he could move on with his life.
Son of a bitch.
“Never mind, Mack,” he said quickly, standing up and pulling out his wallet. He slapped down a twenty to cover both his and Magnus’s beers.
The bartender lifted an eyebrow, watching him closely.
Trey started for the door. “You comin’ or what?” he called back to Magnus without turning around.
When he stepped outside, the cool wind hit him in the face. Too bad it wasn’t cold enough to knock some sense into him.
