I wasn’t even going to ask how he could possibly be comfortable rolled up like a spit ball. After all, this was a man who could suck his own cock.
I scooted lower in my seat, braced my feet against the floorboard, and got a hand under him. The infinitesimal space made it almost impossible to maneuver.
“Now, Grant.”
I found his entrance with my fingers and used them to line up my cock.
Morgan made a high-pitched keening sound. “Grant, for god’s sake.”
“I’m trying, trust me.” My attempts to angle were either too high or too low. Then I was right there—fucking hell he was tight. The heat of his body enveloped me. I lifted my hips, readjusting the angle, and sank to the hilt into his ass.
“Holy shit.” A tremor ran down my legs.
“Don’t you dare come, yet.”
Intense, why the hell was it so much more intense?
Morgan used his arms to lift his body, gaining a few inches then coming back down on me. That one stroke was all I needed. Who gave a fuck why it felt so good?
I locked a hand on Morgan’s shoulder, the other on his hip. Between the seat at my back and my feet on the floorboard, I was able to get enough leverage to pop my hips.
We found a rhythm, however awkward, and I pounded him as hard as I could. Morgan bounced on my lap with his head back and mouth open, singing that beautiful music he could make. I tightened my hold on his hips, yanking him down to meet me. Our bodies slapped together in a violent clash of flesh.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” My arms trembled with the effort to lift up higher. Morgan readjusted his arm on the steering wheel, taking on some of the weight. The horn blared again, but the hell if I cared. I was too far gone. Cock moving in and out of his body, never wanting to stop and so desperate to finish my heart clawed at my ribs.
“Want you to come,” I said.
“Not yet.” Morgan barked in pleasure again and again. His swollen cock curved toward his stomach. The head glistened in the poor light. The scent of musk and sex soaked the truck cab. Even with the windows down, fog clouded the edge of the windshield, closing in until only the center was clear.
“Harder.” The cords on Morgan’s neck stood out. “Harder, Grant, harder.”
“The truck was your bright idea.” A cramp pulled at my left calf; I extended my leg to ease it and came dangerously close to sliding out of him. I bent my knee back.
“Yesss—” Morgan grabbed me by my hair and pulled me forward. With one arm propping him off the steering wheel and the other on me, our bodies were crushed together so tight I could barely take a full breath.
His bangs slid away. The lack of light erased irrelevant details, leaving behind the raw, unrelenting desire. No man had ever looked at me that way. Not even in the throes of sex. Like the light, he watched something inside me, something no one else could see, and I didn’t know whether to be frightened or honored.
“Want you to come. Want you to fill me. Can you do that?”
I either would or die trying, that much I knew for sure.
I fucked him.
Sweat made my clothes stick to my skin. My jaw ached from clenching my teeth, the joints in my knees screamed, muscles knotted, and my pulse beat so hard black spots danced in front of my eyes.
But I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. The mask of bliss sweeping over Morgan’s face was worth anything.
I seriously began to wonder if I was going to live up to my vow. Then the sudden rush of electric euphoria swept over me. I threw back my head with a shout. Morgan’s body tightened around my pulsing cock. Wave after wave, beat after beat, Morgan flexed his ass.
I collapsed and was able to unfold enough to breathe.
Morgan pulled my hair. “Not yet, you don’t.” He moved to his knees. His stiff cock curved toward his stomach. “You’re gonna suck me?”
“Yeah.” Hell if I knew how.
Morgan raised up on his feet and perched his ass on the steering wheel. His back pressed to the roof, his arms on either side of my shoulders on the back of the seat, he created an arch with his body, giving me perfect access to his glorious cock. I slid forward on jellied legs and almost dumped myself into the floorboard. He caught me before the horn did much more than yelp.
The thick rich flavor of precum filled my mouth as I took him to the back of my throat. Morgan moaned. Like the musical cries he made, it was a sound unique to him. He pumped his hips, driving his dick into my mouth.
The angle made it difficult for me to get to his balls so I plunged two fingers in his hole.
He jumped, and his head smacked the roof. “More.” He twisted a handful of my hair. I gave him three, and he cried out. Morgan fucked my mouth while I did the same to his ass. The heat of cum slid down my fingers with the slick remnants of lubricant.
His gasps, his pleas, it added to the obscene squelch of my fingers moving in and out of his body.
I pulled to the tip, sucked hard, and he yanked my hair again. I took him deep, swallowing around him. It must have been exactly what he wanted because his breathing hitched.
“Almost, almost.”
For a moment, his cock went so deep I couldn’t breathe, then he backed out. I tightened my lips around his length and his thrust shortened, giving me half, but increasing the speed.
“Almost, Grant. God, your mouth, I love your mouth. I love your dick, too. And your fingers. Harder, harder, please…”
I twisted my arm at an uncomfortable angle, but it gave me enough room to shove my fingers all the way to my knuckles. I found his prostate.
“Oh, God, yesss—yessss….” Morgan bucked his hips. The back of his thighs hit the horn, and it chirped with every rapid thrust, then his wanton cries drowned everything out. Liquid heat shot over my tongue, salty, bitter, rich, and earthy, his cum filled my mouth, trickled down my throat. I swallowed as much as I could and kept sucking. Morgan rode out his orgasm long after he had nothing left to give. He rocked, he breathed, he pulled my hair.
I removed my fingers from his ass and looked for something to wipe them on. Then it dawned on me why I needed to clean them in the first place.
“Damn it.”
“What?”
The condoms sat on the seat next to me. “Jesus, Morgan I’m sorry, I…” I knew better. I fucking knew better. “I’m clean. I swear. I haven’t been with anyone since I got out of the hospital and they…”
“It’s okay.” He tilted my head back and took my mouth. I slipped him the flavor of his cum, and he moaned.
It was then I heard the strange popping sound. No, no, not popping.
Clapping?
I didn’t even want to look, but I did.
Cars in front of us, beside us, behind us had become perches for their passengers. No one in the parking lot watched the movie any more.
Someone whistled. Another person shouted. Then I’ll be damned if they didn’t start shouting for an encore.
Morgan gave me a crooked smile.
“No,” I said.
“But our fans are calling our name.”
I didn’t even take the time to pull up my jeans. I just dumped Morgan in the passenger seat and cranked up the truck. Just as I started to back out, I remembered the stupid speaker hooked on the door.
It landed on the ground with a thump. At least I managed to not run over it.
And damn Morgan, he was still laughing at me when I took a left back onto the main road.
********
I stayed over because after an encore, and an encore to the encore, there was no way I was going to walk, let alone drive.
But as exhausted as I was, I couldn’t fall asleep.
I lay there in the darkness with Morgan’s head on my shoulder, his exhales warming my cheek.
When I’d been in the business, I rarely slept if I was outside of my apartment. Even if I’d been going for days organizing a shipment. I put a couch in my office for those short lulls when I could catch an hour nap.
But no matter
how hard I tried, how achy, how much my eyes burned, I couldn’t get them to close. My body remained on high alert until the package was safe and my client was happy.
Then I could sleep for days.
It was like that there in Morgan’s bed. As if for some reason, I had to wait until it was safe for me to rest.
Outside the wind blew hard enough to rock the dozens of kinetic sculptures hanging in the trees. The soft chink joined the fading fall tree frogs. I glanced at the clock, it was three a.m. I didn’t have anywhere to be tomorrow so the lack of sleep was no big loss.
My internal clock ticked and the spring wound tighter.
I wasn’t afraid or worried, just… waiting.
Morgan whimpered, and the building tension popped.
The moonlight poured into his bedroom window, illuminating things as bright as a streetlamp. Shadows made heavy outlines over Morgan’s features.
His eyebrows crunched up, and he frowned in his sleep.
Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes.
“Morgan?”
Another sound but it was less a whimper and more like a sob. His wandering hand made a halfhearted jump to his temple. “I’m sorry.”
“Shhh—”
“Please don’t be angry.” He opened his eyes, but I knew right away it wasn’t me he saw. The hurt, pain, the weakness, was not the Morgan I knew. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
It was wrong, but I didn’t try to wake him up. I wanted to know what memory plagued his sleep. Asking him in the morning would have been the better choice. But in the light, he would be the Morgan I knew. The independent wall of wit and charm. This vulnerable Morgan would have been covered back up.
He slowly ducked his head and his wandering hand pressed against his temple. A tear slid down his cheek and smeared on my chest. “Please, please, please.” He tensed. Bogged down by sleep, it was like watching a movie in slow-motion.
It took me a moment to realize Morgan was protecting his face. “Please don’t hit me.”
God, I was such a bastard. “Shhh—” I combed my fingers through his hair. Sweat weighed down the soft curls. “It’s okay, you’re all right.”
“I tried. I tried. I’m sorry. Please, please, please stop, Dillon. I love you. I love you, and I didn’t mean to.”
“Morgan.” I shook him. “Morgan, wake up.” I reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. Morgan’s gaze was still distant. Was he asleep, awake?
Neither.
Wherever Morgan had gone was beyond the place where nightmares lay. I wanted to believe he was watching the layer of the world I couldn’t see, but this time it was different. His features held no sense of wonder, no calm, they were just… empty.
The first time I killed a man, I’d been unable to look away as the life left his eyes. The moment he took his last breath, he changed. It was as if the entire world shifted around him and he was suddenly separated from it. He’d gone from a living person, to an inanimate object.
There were nights I’d wake up with the memory so fresh I smelled the blood. My heart would pound. Sweat would soak the sheets. Fear held me hostage until I convinced myself it was in the past. A deed done. I’d have to live with it because I’d done it to survive.
I thought nothing could disturb me more.
What I saw in Morgan’s expression made looking into the eyes of a dead man insignificant. Because Morgan was still alive and yet he’d slipped into a place where only inanimate objects belonged.
I shook him again. His wayward hand made a lazy movement. Then he wiggled his fingers at the tip of his nose.
I sat up and took him with me. He flopped against my chest. Neither fighting nor going willingly. Just there and not there.
“Morgan.” I patted his cheek. “Morgan, wake up.” I shook him again, and again, and again.
Where was my phone? In the truck? Had to be. I didn’t remember it being in my pocket when I put my keys in there.
I started to go get it when Morgan dropped his hand into his lap and the living-dead expression vanished.
He blinked a couple of times. “I want to go home. Please let me go home.”
“Okay. Okay, I’ll take you home.” We were at his house, but I would have agreed to anything to lead him out from the nightmare…
“You won’t be mad?”
“No, no, I won’t be mad. Everything will be all right. I’ll take you home, Morgan.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah, I promise.”
Morgan nodded. “Thank you.”
Then he pressed himself against my ribs and fell back to sleep.
I didn’t. I held him. Sitting there in the middle of the bed while he slumped against me, I petted him, shushed him, and prayed the nightmares would stay away.
It wasn’t until the sky outside the window lightened I dare to lay him back down. Even then I kept him tucked under my arm. I don’t know if it really did any good, but the dreams didn’t come back and I was finally able to sleep.
********
The smell of coffee dragged me out of bed and forced me to put my jeans on. In the kitchen, Morgan stared out the window over the sink.
The smooth length of his back pulled my gaze to the swell of his ass. Two dimples peeked over the edge of his boxers, divided by the very tip of his crack. His hair was wet, and the scent of soap clinging to him left me longing for another night at the movies.
Then I was forced to relive my stupidity. Now I just had to figure out a way to bring up the topic. “Morning.”
He continued to stare.
“You mind if I get a cup?”
“I was going to cook breakfast, but I’m out of bacon, and I don’t have any buttermilk to make biscuits. My biscuits aren’t all that great anyways, but I’d like some with gravy. I thought maybe you could take us to Fran’s. Their lunch is terrible, but the breakfast is good. I wonder why that is? Good breakfast, bad lunch?” Morgan sipped his coffee. “I have to be at work by two. You’ll have to bring me back here, otherwise I’ll be late. Takes at least thirty minutes for me to get there on my bike.”
Since he didn’t say no, I got a cup from the cupboard. “I want to apologize for last night. I don’t know how I forgot…” No, no that was a lie. I knew exactly how I forgot. “I got carried away. I didn’t think. But I promise you, I’m—”
“Sugar’s over the microwave with the powdered creamer. There’s milk, but it’s just milk. Some people like it better than the creamer. I like the creamer most of the time.”
I moved a small stack of mail out of my way so I had room to fix my coffee. “If you want, I can go to the health clinic in town and get tested again. What about you?” I hated to ask, but I had to.
“Never gone bareback. I get tested twice a year. Haven’t had more than a blowjob in the john at Toolies in two. So? Biscuits and gravy?”
I propped my hip against the counter. “You sure make for interesting morning conversation.”
“I’ll go get dressed.” Morgan put his empty cup in the sink. “I made sure to leave you some hot water, but it won’t stay hot for long. Unless the water heater has caught up. It’s a good heater so it might have. I bought it for fifty bucks. Berry had it on sale. Has a gouge in the side, but it’s only aesthetic. I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.” He started out of the kitchen but paused in the doorway. “No.”
“No, what?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Talk? Last night. He meant last night. “I hadn’t really thought about asking.”
Morgan nodded. “You would have. So I’m just telling you now.”
“Okay. I promise not to ask.”
“Good. You should hurry. She makes the biscuits fresh, and they go quick.”
Morgan was already in the truck by the time I was showered and dressed.
I opened the driver’s side door.
“You’re late.”
“Had to shave.”
“Still late.”
“Had t
o wash too. And get dressed. Unless of course you expected me to go naked.”
He cocked his mouth to the side. “Is that a question or an option?”
I rolled my eyes.
“You should get a watch.”
“I have a watch.” I showed him.
“A better watch.”
“This one cost five hundred bucks. I can’t afford a better one.” I started the truck, and it belched a cloud of white smoke.
“You’re burning oil. Need to get Jenny to take a look at it.”
“I already looked at it. It’s nothing serious.”
Gravel crunched under the tires. Every so often, we’d hit a rut and bounce on the seats.
“Shocks are bad.”
“What’s with you this morning?”
Morgan flicked thoughts. Then he did something I’d only seen him do when he had the run-in with the truck driver. He rocked. Over and over, Morgan flicked thoughts and rocked in his seat.
I stopped the truck. “What’s going on?”
“You really should take better care of your truck. You’re lucky to have it. If I had a truck, I’d fix an oil leak, no matter how small.”
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. “Then maybe you should get Jenny to find you one. I’m sure she could get good deal.”
“Can’t drive.”
“It’s not that hard.”
“Can’t tie my shoes either. Or tell left from right. Neither one of those is hard.”
He had me there. “And I can’t make the beautiful works of art like you.”
Morgan fell still. “I could teach you.”
“I’m not sure it would work, but I could try, I guess.”
He nodded.
“Would you like for me to give you some driving lessons?”
“Can’t drive.”
“Yeah, you said that.”
“You sure?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.”
“Hasn’t gone well before.”
“Well, maybe this time it will.”
He nodded. He kept nodding. Then he went back to rocking in his seat.
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