Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I was so hard, I was in danger of passing out. Sitting on my heels, I released him with a pop to free my aching erection.
“I’m gonna fuck you,” I growled, twirling my tongue around his crown as I jacked myself.
“Mm, and I’m going to love it,” he purred. “Suck your fingers for me. You’re going to need to practice stretching me open. Or have you already done that?”
I bit my bottom lip. “You want me to put my finger in your…”
“Ass,” he finished, kicking his jeans to pool at his feet. “If that’s where we’re heading, you’ll need to know what to do. For educational purposes.”
“So, you want me to suck your cock and stick my finger—”
“No, you don’t stick it. You massage your way in. Carefully,” he added. “Ideally, you’d use lube. Lots of saliva will do for now. Show me what you got, Hotshot.”
I smacked his ass cheek and glared up at him. Slicking my fingers with saliva, I lifted his balls and trailed a digit along his crease. “Like this?”
“More.” He shrugged his jacket off, laid it over the bale of hay, and kicked off his boots and his jeans. My mouth went dry when he sat on the haystack, opening his legs wide for me.
“Holy fuck,” I choked out.
The view was incredible. I tried again, sliding my thumb over his hole, massaging his pucker. He tapped his erection against my cheek in a not-so-subtle request for me to get back to work, so I did, licking his crown as I slipped a digit inside him. Hank groaned his approval and before I knew it, I was a multitasking motherfucker, sucking cock and fingering my lover’s ass while jacking my throbbing dick like a pro.
Honestly, I didn’t recognize myself. Sure, I loved sex, and I liked to think I was good at it, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been blown away. If I had any lingering questions about my bisexuality, they’d been answered. I was bi and sucking cock was my new favorite thing.
Needless to say, I didn’t last long. Hank’s hands in my hair and his whispered commands of the “You got this, you’re doing so good, such a good cocksucker” variety were all it took to shove me over the edge.
I came like a freight train, shooting over my fist, on his leg, and all over the haystack too. He pushed my head away and finished himself off…with my finger in his ass.
I couldn’t hear above the rush of blood pounding in my ears, and I definitely couldn’t speak.
But I’d never felt better.
Maybe it wasn’t fate, but I couldn’t help thinking this felt right. Who knew? Maybe the cowboy was my good luck charm after all.
8
HANK
“He was here? In the stable?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“That’s good.” Dad pointed at the sofa in his den, quietly commanding me to take a seat and file my report. “Tell me everything.”
No way. Not happening.
My father’s heart had gone through enough lately. He was well aware of my homosexuality and supportive in his own way, but the barn shenanigans might just push him over the edge. Moot point ’cause I didn’t kiss and tell.
But damn, I had a hard time keeping my shit-eating grin under control. Hey, sex did wonders for the body, mind, and spirit, and today had been all kinds of amazing.
Denny was a surprise. I hadn’t been sure he’d come by. And when he did, I’d half expected him to say this was a mistake and that after careful consideration, he wasn’t interested in getting his gay on with me.
No hard feelings. I would have understood. Sex wasn’t a big deal to me. It was feel-good fun between consenting adults. No hearts and flowers required. But I was older than Denny. I’d had my heart broken more than once, and I’d learned not to attach sentiment to naked horizontal encounters. That was a new muscle to flex for a guy with a limited dating history.
He'd shown up, though. And wow, just…wow. Christ, Denny had no idea how fucking beautiful he was with that glossy-eyed intensity, his fingers probing my ass, his mouth on my cock. In the fucking barn, no less.
I knew there’d been little to no chance of being discovered. Garrett worked alone on Sunday mornings, and he had a bum knee and bad hearing. But the element of danger added something for sure.
So yes, I was fighting a smile that gave me the mental fortitude required to deal with the clusterfuck I’d taken on. I’d left Elmwood on Friday disheartened at the notion of being the town pariah in New England’s version of Siberia, but I was feeling cautiously optimistic now.
“Not much to tell,” I commented, settling on the sofa. “The mill is plodding along, the house in Elmwood is nice, and…everyone hates me. But I see light at the end of the tunnel.”