by Lynn Stark
Levering himself up onto his knees, he reached for the lube again. After being tested while in the hospital, they had decided they would forgo wearing condoms. Deacon coated his cock and tossed the lube away. He winked at Neville before helping him roll onto his side. The man bent his slender leg, making access easier. Then he was moving in close behind and guiding the head of his cock to the twitching hole. A moan of pleasure escaped him as he sank into his husband’s body.
Neville reached back and grabbed Deacon’s hip as he began to thrust and withdraw, establishing a rhythm that had them both groaning loudly. The scent of sex and sweaty men filled the air. Deacon breathed it in. Never in his life had he smelled anything better than their combined scents.
“Neville, baby, I love you,” Deacon gasped, his mouth against Neville’s ear. He took the lobe between his teeth to give it a tug. “I want you to come for me, baby. Fuck my cock.”
“You’re making me crazy, honey buns!” Neville cried, his body beginning to tremble.
* * * *
Never in his life had Neville felt the incredible sensations that were running wildly through his veins. Deacon was definitely doing his best to make him lose his mind. Grabbing his revived dick, he began to stroke feverishly, matching Deacon’s every thrust. His toes were curling as the muscles in his legs began to tighten. Then he was coming, shouting, his inner muscles clamping around Deacon’s long, thick shaft so that he could barely move. They were locked together for a few glorious moments. Heat flashed over him, and he saw bits of golden glitter behind his eyelids.
Deacon joined him seconds later. The arm he had wrapped around Neville’s chest tightened, holding him as if he would never let him go. That was okay with him. He never wanted to be let go.
There had been a time not so long ago that Neville hadn’t had hope for any kind of positive future. Chance had brought him to Silver, where he’d been lucky enough to meet Deacon, the man who returned his love tenfold.
Yeah, it couldn’t get much better than this.
“I love you, baby.”
“I love you back, even more.”
* * * *
Eighteen months later…
It would take a lot more than a baby pulling his hair and smacking his cheek to wipe the grin off his face. Neville’s chest puffed up with pride as Colt Redford, his two wives, his two husbands, and their children got their first look at the large painting over the mantelpiece in the formal living room of the huge ranch house. Colt had commissioned the painting after he had attended the show of Neville’s work at the gallery. It might have been his first big job, but it wouldn’t be his last. His work was in high demand now, and he would be able to pick and choose what he wanted to do.
Now that he and Deacon had a daughter to take care of, she was a priority. Emma Jane Swift-West was their pride and joy. Deacon’s sister had volunteered her eggs and her womb. Neville had contributed the sperm. Less than a year later they were welcoming their baby into the world.
As Neville smiled, Emma took the opportunity to examine his teeth and lips, grabbing the upper one and pulling it. Deacon saw what was happening and gently disengaged her tiny fingers.
“She’s fine,” Neville told him.
Deacon chuckled. “Baby, you have to set limits, otherwise she’s going to run all over you.”
“But she’s so sweet and cuddly. How can I say no?”
“Well, dear, you better start now,” Anita, Deacon’s mother, told him firmly. “She’ll ride roughshod over you, if you don’t. Now, give me my granddaughter so you can go listen to all the wonderful accolades people have to say about that incredible painting.”
Neville reluctantly handed over their daughter, watching her being carried away by his mother-in-law. “I really do need to toughen up,” he admitted, feeling the ache of empty arms.
The man he loved pulled him close. “You’re a terrific father. We’ll figure it all out together. Now, cutie, why don’t we go get a glass of champagne so we can toast your success?”
“Sounds like a plan. But only one glass. I don’t want to set a bad example for Emma Jane.”
“You could never do that. When she learns what you went through to get here, to be able to have her, she will love you even more. Now, let’s go schmooze. After we’re finished with that, I’m taking you home and to bed.”
“How did I get so lucky?”
“No,” Deacon corrected, “how did we get so lucky.”
Neville snickered. “I wonder if Doug got our latest postcard in prison.”
Deacon laughed and bent to kiss him. As he returned the kiss, Neville thanked whatever power had brought him to Silver and into the arms of this man, and to give them a beautiful daughter to share.
* * * *
Doug read the card before crushing it in his fist. His jaw clenched. That little bastard Neville sure knew how to hit back. This postcard was from Florida, a photograph of a white sand beach and colorful umbrellas, a place he wouldn’t be able to see for years yet.
Doug truly wished he hadn’t been unlucky enough to meet Neville Swift.
THE END
HTTPS://LYNNSTARKROMANCES.WEEBLY.COM/
HTTPS://WWW.FACEBOOK.COM/LYNN-STARKS-EROTIC-ROMANCES-156452247832909/

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com