Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
I turned back to Hanson. “What do you need from me?”
“If Casper agrees to the second bird, that still leaves us without one for any SaR needs. The outdoor television network is bringing one in for aerial coverage of the race. Apparently, it’s standard for them to agree to let SaR teams use their helicopters in an emergency as long as the SaR team pays for the fuel and piloting time. I wanted to see if we have any money to cover this if it happens. Obviously we don’t anticipate needing it since the exhibition isn’t that intense, but it’s better to be prepared and have all the paperwork in place just in case.”
We talked through details of what kind of budget would be needed, and I agreed to schedule a meeting with him later in the week to figure out whether or not we could afford it. “We can definitely get the paperwork done, regardless,” I added. “But I’m not sure about the money yet. I can reach out to the Lawrence Foundation about a grant, but they’re not that big. It’s possible this might qualify for a Kussman Memorial Trust grant. I’ll ask Bernice to do some research.”
“That would be great. I’m still researching other sources with the help of some guys over in Teton County, but I wanted to loop you in.”
Silas watched the young deputy as he stood and apologized for interrupting our lunch. Once Hanson was gone, he finally spoke. “How likely is it there will be a search and rescue need during the event?”
“Well… not as unlikely as you might think. SaR includes things like swift water rescue. Anytime you have people on the river, there’s a chance you’ll need emergency rescue help. We usually end up needing an SaR team several times per summer for various reasons. Tourists trapped on a rock face needing rope rescue, kayakers and rafters stuck in the middle of a river needing swift water rescue, or lost hikers needing mountain or land rescue. It’s one of the reasons Foster has been trying so hard to get funding for a paid program instead of relying on volunteers. But with the additional volume of tourists and outdoor adventure enthusiasts coming for the exhibition… yeah, there’s a higher chance we’d need serious resources in place. I’d rather be overprepared than under.”
As I spoke, Silas’s eyes seemed to darken. I couldn’t figure out where the additional intensity was coming from until much later that day when we met back up at home and he shoved me against the wall and put his tongue in my mouth.
“What the fuck?” I asked between gasping breaths.
“Turns out I have a competency fetish,” he growled before kissing me breathless again. His hard cock thrust against mine through too many layers of clothes. “You drive me fucking crazy, Mayor.”
“Fuck me,” I said without thinking.
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Mean it,” I said after a single second of hesitation. Part of me wanted to know what it felt like to be on the receiving end of all that carnal energy, to feel him lose control and pound into me until he came on a shudder and shout.
Silas pulled back and met my eyes. The edge of his lips curled up in a satisfied smirk. “You want me inside you, Mr. Majestic? Is that what you want?”
I felt hard and desperate, horny and shameless. “Yes.”
There was something coiled and tightly controlled in Silas, and I wanted to see it snap. I wanted him to let go and be wide open with me. Maybe if I offered to bottom for him, he would finally show me that part of himself.
“Then why are you standing there, fully clothed, Mayor Fletcher?” Silas asked.
And if I’d thought his eyes had been intense before… it was nothing to the way they looked now.
TWENTY-FOUR
SILAS
The process of stripping Way naked and prepping him with my fingers wasn’t new. Hell, he’d already let me do many, many things to his body in the three weeks we’d been together, including introducing him to the joys of prostate stimulation.
Knowing he was ready to bottom for me made me wonder if I was going to pop off prematurely like an overwrought preteen.
It was entirely possible. Waylon Fletcher had the kind of body that was truly god’s gift to the world. He was trim and fit, strong and sculpted, and the man was completely at home in his own body. That kind of confidence made him even sexier.
I manhandled him over to the bed and shoved him down on it before yanking my own clothes off. “Lube,” I said, hoping he’d grab it before I came all over my own stomach.
He grinned at me as he reached for the bottle. “Want me to—”
“Not on your life,” I hissed. “That ass is mine tonight. Move up and spread your knees for me. That’s it. Fuck.”