Trey huffed a harsh breath, then slammed his mouth on Magnus’s. He swallowed Trey’s ragged groan as he shifted his hips, providing the angle Trey needed to push deep inside him.
“Ah, fuck, yes,” Magnus moaned, his head falling back as Trey’s cock sank to the hilt inside him.
Trey pumped his hips once, twice, then paused. He sat up, grabbed a pillow, and shoved it under Magnus’s hips. The entire time, Magnus watched, not wanting to miss a second of this. Trey was surrendering; of that, he had no doubt. And it was a glorious thing.
The next thing he knew, Magnus’s legs were draped over Trey’s shoulders as Trey bent him in half and drove down into him.
Magnus gritted his teeth as pleasure consumed him. Every cell in his body sparked as Trey fucked him hard, ramming his hips forward, pulling them back. Again and again, he impaled Magnus, their eyes locked. There were no words, but the conversation that took place was life-altering.
Trey grunted with every thrust, driving them both to that elusive pinnacle.
Magnus gripped Trey’s biceps, held himself still, and gladly accepted the sensual assault.
“Magnus…”
He fucking loved when Trey said his name during sex. Fucking loved it.
“Jesus, Magnus.” He breathed harshly, fucking him harder, deeper.
“Come inside me,” Magnus pleaded. “Come for me, Trey.”
Trey shouted his name, his hips driving forward brutally hard. He stilled inside him, then Magnus felt that wicked pulse of his cock as he came. His own cock spurted despite being drained from their earlier encounter.
Half an hour later, Magnus was draped over Trey’s naked body. They had cleaned up then returned to the bed. If they were lucky, they’d get a few hours of sleep before dawn broke and the new day started.
“Do you think I should get a haircut?” Trey asked, his voice whisper soft.
Magnus turned his head, peered up at Trey in the darkness. He chuckled softly. “No. I happen to be fond of it.”
“Okay.”
With that, they drifted off, holding one another.
Chapter Seventeen
Monday, March 14, 2022
REESE STRETCHED HIS LEGS AS FAR OUTas he could, shifted to get more comfortable.
They’d been sitting in Brantley’s truck for the better part of two hours now and still had endless more to go. When Brantley had volunteered to stake out the senator’s house tonight, Reese had invited himself to come along.
“Move the seat back,” Brantley grumbled, a pair of binoculars pressed to his eyes as he stalked the senator from their spot a few houses down.
“Already did.” Sometimes it didn’t pay to be so fucking tall.
He forced himself to relax, glancing down the dark street. This was an up-and-coming neighborhood with cookie-cutter houses that had benefited from the last economic boom, taking a middle-class neighborhood and converting it into a prime spot for wealthy Austinites.
To be fair, Reese had expected something a bit more glamorous for a senator, but JJ had kindly informed him that government officials don’t make all that much money. What Harrison Rivers did have came more from the family coffers than from his biweekly paycheck, and it didn’t appear the family was all that keen on bankrolling him.
They sat for a few more minutes in silence. Brantley kept an eye on the house as though he was getting paid for every second he peered through the binoculars. Reese figured it was an avoidance technique, something to make him look busy so Reese didn’t bring up the uncomfortable subject he’d attempted to broach at dinner last night.
“Brantley, we need to talk about this,” Reese finally said.
“About what?”
“About … what happened that night.”
Brantley lowered the field glasses, set them on the dashboard, and fell back in his seat with a huff. Reese was almost certain he’d seen one of Brantley’s nieces do the very same thing when they were told to go to a time-out. Had they learned it from Brantley? Or vice versa?
