by A. M. Arthur
And the confession intrigued Derrick. He’d flirted with the Armed Forces before getting a hard-on for charity work after a childhood neighbor’s house burned down, leaving a family of six with nothing. “How long were you in the Army?”
“About six months. Wasn’t a good fit. Discharged.” His tone indicated the conversation was over. Slater cracked his knuckles. “You still into this?”
“Definitely.” Slater definitely struck him as a guy with a lot of secrets and stories worth hearing. But this was a fling, not a date. Derrick strode toward the mats. “How do we start? Neutral or referee’s position?”
“I think neutral works for our purposes here.”
Derrick wasn’t entirely sure what their purposes were, other than getting hot and sweaty before they fucked. And he was down for that. Slater prowled the mats before stopping at one corner. Derrick came at him from the opposite corner, and they both leaned in. Put their hands in the proper places. It left their faces very close together, and Derrick caught a hint of something sweet on Slater’s breath.
“So who’s the ref here?” Derrick asked.
“Me.” Slater whistled, and in a whip-fast move, had Derrick on his ass, shoulders down in a perfect pin.
Derrick blinked up at him, stunned and slightly winded already. “Can I get a do-over if I say I wasn’t ready?”
“Nope. But how about we do best of five?”
“Yeah, okay.”
On his third straight hit to the mat, Derrick knew he’d lost but he wasn’t about to give in just yet. Playing around with Slater was too much fun. He rolled fast, pushing Slater onto his back so he could straddle him and press their groins together. Slater made a show of struggling, but he pretty much allowed Derrick to clasp his hands above his head on the mat. They were well matched in height and bulk, and Derrick liked that. He preferred guys who were close to his size, versus super big or really small.
Derrick thrust their groins together, pleased by the soft moan Slater released as their hard dicks rubbed and pressed. Nowhere near enough to get off but it felt great, and Derrick hadn’t played around like this in a long time. Quick fucks meant no chance of getting attached. He had no desire to get attached to Slater but he also had no plans to sleep anytime soon. This was way more fun than waiting for news about Sophie.
“This doesn’t count as a pin,” Slater said with a hard upward thrust of his own hips. “Three in a row means I win.”
“Yeah? What’s your prize, then, Mr. Winner?”
In a sudden display of dexterity, Slater hooked a leg between them and shoved at Derrick’s chest, knocking Derrick backward onto his ass. Slater rolled with him and expertly reversed their position so Derrick was flat on his back, half off one of the mats.
“Damn,” Derrick said with a smirk. “You sure you aren’t a pro wrestler?”
“Learned how to fight and defend myself after spectacularly fucking up my life.” A fine sheen of sweat had broken out over Slater’s face, giving him a slightly dangerous edge that heated Derrick’s blood even more. He groped the side of Derrick’s butt. “I’m thinking I wanna take this ass for a ride.”
“Horse ride? I’m not very good but—oh, fuck.”
Slater squeezed Derrick’s dick through the thin fabric of his boxer-briefs, tight enough the hold bordered on painful. But Slater never tipped over that edge, only kept Derrick teetering on the precipice of too much. Then he slithered down the length of Derrick’s body, yanked his underwear down and off, and sucked on the head of his cock. Derrick moaned, a little surprised by the intense heat of Slater’s mouth. The way he worked the foreskin back with his lips instead of his hand, testing and playing, and holy crap, it was incredible.
Derrick wanted to grab Slater’s head and shove deeper inside, to get more of that wonderful heat around his dick, but Slater was watching him with so much intensity—so much “let me drive, just enjoy” in his eyes—that Derrick submitted. For now. Submission was not his thing but he could let Slater be in charge for a little while. Something told him it would be worth it in the end.
Slater sucked him and played with his balls, keeping eye contact almost the entire time. As if not quite trusting Derrick. Derrick didn’t take it personally. They were basically strangers acting on chemistry and instinct. And Slater knew what the fuck he was doing, edging Derrick close to release before Derrick warned him off. He wasn’t a fan of being fucked if he’d already come, and he really wanted Slater to fuck him.
“Get your stuff,” Slater said.
He was naked and kneeling on the mats when Derrick returned with the condom and two lube packets he kept in his wallet. He didn’t always fuck (or get fucked by) his hookups but he liked being prepared for when the desire struck. And it was striking like lightning all over the place with Slater. Seeing the well-built, tatted-up cowboy kneeling naked, his lips spit-shiny and cock straining for attention, put a strange feeling deep in Derrick’s gut.
More than lust, more than horniness...he wasn’t sure how to describe it beyond...need? A desperate need not only to come, but to come with this man in particular, and to make him come in return.
“Stand up,” Derrick said. Slater did but turned his head when Derrick went in for a kiss.
“I don’t kiss one-offs.” Slater quirked an eyebrow, as if daring Derrick to make a fuss or force a kiss.
“Cool.” Derrick slid to his knees and gripped Slater’s hot cock by the root. “Can I kiss this?”
“Please do.”
Derrick leaned in and inhaled the man’s scent, delighting in just the right amount of sweat and musk, and his mouth watered for a taste. He licked into the slit and stole a bit a precome. He enjoyed tasting his partner, discovering their unique essence. Working them delirious with mouth, fingers and tongue.
“You gonna suck it or propose to it?” Slater drawled.
He looked up the length of Slater’s inked torso. “Why? You got a ring you want me to put on it? I’m fond of black rubber myself.”
Slater’s lips twitched. “Maybe. Don’t have it on me, though, so how about you get to sucking before I take over and just fuck your brains out.”
“I dare you.” The words slipped out, and he’d only meant to tease. But Slater’s half smile went feral and he tackled Derrick to the mats. They rolled and wrestled, naked bodies rubbing. Slater nipped at his bicep and throat and even one ass cheek, and Derrick hadn’t realized how much little bites like that turned him the fuck on. It was one of the most erotic things he’d ever done in his life, and they somehow ended up in a sixty-nine, with Slater on top.
Slater pushed his cock into Derrick’s mouth, and Derrick opened for him. Relaxed his jaw and throat to take Slater’s length, while Slater jacked Derrick’s dick slowly. Teasing strokes while he thrust steadily against Derrick’s tongue. Derrick wasn’t sure how Slater got hold of the lube packets, but a slick finger rubbed between his cheeks. Derrick spread his legs, giving Slater room to push that finger into his ass.
It had been a while since he’d been fucked, and the sudden intrusion made Derrick shout around his mouthful of cock. The slight burn faded quickly, though, especially when Slater went right for Derrick’s prostate. That first press against his gland nearly made Derrick bite down.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Slater said. “Sure you’ve done this before?”
Since he couldn’t currently speak, Derrick pinched Slater’s ass hard. Slater laughed and kept working his ass with that wicked finger. Two burned in the very best way, and Slater seemed in no hurry to get to the main event. Even after Slater pulled his cock out of Derrick’s mouth and rolled Derrick onto his hands and knees, Slater kept fingering him. Pulling and stretching, stuffing him full of lube. Teasing his prostate. Tugging on his balls until Derrick was a panting, broken mess.
“Fucking fuck me already,” Derrick snarled, annoyed he’d been reduced to begging but also so de
sperate to come he’d have eaten his own shoe if that was the only way he could. “Come on.”
“Not so cocky now, are you, Tiger?”
“You keep messing around, this tiger’s gonna bite you.”
“Promise?” Slater circled his rim once more with a single finger, then withdrew. Derrick listened with silent gratitude as Slater opened the condom and put it on. The sticky sound of more lube. A hand gripped Derrick’s left hip and blunt pressure against his hole became the entire focus of Derrick’s world.
Hot, steady pressure, and so fucking slow when Derrick had expected a quick, brutal penetration. But Slater took his time, working his not-insignificant girth into Derrick’s ass half an inch at a time, in small nudges and pulls, driving Derrick kind of insane until Slater’s pubes finally tickled his bare ass.
Firmly seated now, Slater draped his chest over Derrick’s back and bit his shoulder. Derrick clenched at the sudden sting, and Slater did it again. “Damn, you feel good,” Slater whispered, hot breath right by his ear. “Could stay like this all night, with you so tight around me.”
Derrick wasn’t usually much for games like this, but something about Slater made him want to play. To tease and poke the bear. And in some other ways...to submit. He didn’t do much, simply relaxed his shoulders a fraction and let his head hang lower, but it was enough. Slater seemed to recognize that Derrick was giving in and accepting what Slater had to offer, and it shifted things between them.
Slater pulled out completely, then shoved his way back inside. Derrick shouted and held on, hands sliding on one of the rubber mats as Slater let loose and fucked him exactly like Derrick had asked. Hard slams of hips to ass that made Derrick’s own dick smack up against his abs on each thrust. Slater wrapped his arms around Derrick’s waist and pulled him up so they were both kneeling, Slater still pistoning into Derrick’s ass, the penetration even deeper like this. It kept Slater’s cock from hitting Derrick’s prostate, the bastard, but it also prolonged Derrick’s orgasm. He clutched at Slater’s ass, unsure if he was encouraging him or not, but he needed to hold on.
He didn’t know how long it lasted. Minutes. Hours. Slater turned him onto his back and fucked him with his body bent nearly in half, until Derrick’s sweaty body slid across the mat with each brutal thrust, and Slater lost traction. Being turned over the weight bench and fucked made Derrick lose his mind a little bit, and he started cussing at Slater. Alternately swearing at him and begging to come, and he had no shame in it, because Slater had reduced him to nothing more than ass, cock and balls, and the ocean of pleasure rising to meet him.
“Fuck, close,” Slater panted. “Yeah. Fuck!” He pushed deep inside and stilled, forehead pressed between Derrick’s shoulder blades, breath fanning across his damp skin. “Oh, fuck, yeah.”
He reached around and fisted Derrick’s dick, and it only took a few tugs before that ocean crashed down on him, drowning Derrick in his release. Derrick rode it out, struggling simply to breathe. Vaguely aware of Slater pulling out and easing Derrick onto his back on the floor, they lay side by side for a while, simply breathing. Derrick couldn’t find two brain cells to rub together for a long time, his legs still occasionally twitching with aftershocks of the most powerful orgasm of his life.
And he’d had a lot of orgasms.
“Think you’ll be able to sleep now?” Slater asked.
“Guh.” Not his finest response ever. “Could sleep for a week after that. Damn.”
“You’re welcome.” Somehow Slater rolled easily to his feet and put his shorts on.
Derrick was barely able to sit upright on the mat by the time Slater was dressed, had his water bottle in hand, and was striding toward the gym door. “Dude?”
Slater paused at the door and looked over his shoulder. “Take it easy, Tiger. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.” And with that, Slater strode out the door.
Chapter Two
Derrick hadn’t expected a goodbye hug or anything, but the way Slater had simply dismissed him...well, it kind of hurt. Especially after the sex had been so incredibly mind-blowing. That kind of chemistry didn’t come along every day, and the last time Derrick had felt it, he’d allowed himself to fall in love. And get cheated on. Again. So maybe Slater walking out the door was a good thing. It stated exactly what last night had been, which was sex. Nothing else.
The best sex of his life, which kept Derrick from really falling asleep in his bunk for the few hours he managed to relax until dawn. With a new crop of paying guests arriving at the guesthouse a little after ten, their group of wedding guests needed to be gone by eight thirty so Patrice could get the place cleaned up and ready. When Derrick had stayed here before two years ago, he hadn’t given much thought to how carefully the employees here kept the ranch going behind the scenes.
He was sharing the room with two of Colt’s brothers. Brand snored away in his own bunk, and Rem slept as silent as the dead, while Derrick couldn’t get comfortable in his—which had nothing to do with his sore backside. He had no regrets about the rough sex. Only how it had ended.
As the rising sun brightened the room, he eagerly rolled out of bed and into the small shared bathroom to shower and dress for the day. He hadn’t packed much, since they’d only been here for one night, and while Brand used the bathroom, Derrick packed up his stuff. The elder Bentleys, plus Sophie and Conrad, were using the guest rooms at Mack and Wes’s cabin, and while Derrick could have crashed on their couch, he liked staying at the ranch.
And it had given him a spectacular encounter last night (this morning?) hadn’t it?
Downstairs, the living area and dining room were abuzz with baby chatter, and Derrick assured everyone who asked he hadn’t heard anything new yet. As far as he knew, Sophie was still in labor, Conrad was still hovering, and Mrs. Bentley was still holding her own baby girl’s hand every step of the way.
Mack and Wes were there, and Mr. Bentley spent most of breakfast checking his phone between bites of pancakes, even though it never dinged or sent an alert. Derrick did the same, though, eager to head back to the hospital to see the newest addition to the extended Massey family.
Slater was one of the last people to enter the kitchen for food, and he didn’t give Derrick a second glance. Derrick pushed down a wave of hurt, because fuck him. It had been sex, nothing else, and Slater didn’t owe him anything. Not even a “good morning” wave. If Slater wanted to pretend they didn’t know each other, fine.
Derrick swallowed his final bite of pancake and was considering another piece of bacon for fun when Wes’s phone pinged. He checked the message and then let out an ear-piercing squeal. “Sophie’s in active labor, let’s go!”
A loud cheer went up around the crowded kitchen and, by extension, the dining room where some of the lingering wedding guests were eating. Derrick managed to put his plate in the dishwasher bin and follow Wes, Mack and Mr. Bentley out of the guesthouse. Wes and Mack had driven down to the ranch in Mack’s truck, but they had more room in Mr. Bentley’s car, so their quartet piled in. Wes and his dad up front, Mack and Derrick in the back.
Wes was glued to his phone the entire drive to the regional medical center, and when text updates stopped coming through, it could only mean the newest Massey was almost here. Derrick wanted to burst with excitement. While most of their cousins had four or more siblings, Derrick and Conrad were their parents’ only kids, because their mom had an emergency hysterectomy after Conrad was born. Derrick liked the idea of kids of his own, but it wasn’t a deal-breaker, and he hadn’t grown up craving a wife and passel of kids like Conrad. He could totally be the cool uncle, though.
And niece/nephew number one was almost here.
Derrick tried not to fidget too much during the drive, because his butt was still a tad tender from the hard pounding he’d gotten only a few hours ago. Mack shot him curious looks but didn’t ask any direct questions, and thank God for discreet so
rt-of-brothers-in-law like him. Mack and Wes weren’t married, but they were beyond committed and he made Wes happy, so Mack was family.
Mr. Bentley was just pulling into a spot in the visitors’ parking lot when Wes announced to the car, “It’s a girl! Five pounds, ten ounces, eighteen inches.”
“That’s a small baby,” Mr. Bentley said. “But Sophie’s not that big herself.”
“She got a name yet?” Mack asked.
“Not yet that Mom texted,” Wes replied. “Oh, my God, I have a niece!”
Derrick laughed, because he had a niece, too. A perfect little girl he intended to spoil rotten every chance he got. He shared a quick hug and backslap with Mack in the car, and then proper hugs with Wes and Mr. Bentley once they all got out. Their group wasn’t allowed in the delivery room, but Leta Bentley came out to hug everyone while Sophie and the baby were settled in a proper room for a few hours.
“She was such a champ,” Mrs. Bentley said with tears in her eyes. “Put off the epidural as long as she could but it’s not easy to go without.”
Wes kissed his mom’s cheek. “I cannot wait to see the little podling,” he said.
“Podling?” Mack parroted.
“Sweet pea? Mini-me? Cutie-pie? I dunno, I’ll come up with the perfect nickname when I actually meet the kid.”
“We all can’t wait to meet her,” Derrick said. He had a little competition going with Wes for who got to be the favorite uncle, and he was up for the challenge.
Derrick and Conrad’s parents, Robert and Sharon, arrived a few minutes later with balloons and a stuffed fish that Wes got a good giggle out of. “Sophie said the nursey has a nautical theme,” Mom said after sharing a bunch of hugs.
Dad clapped Derrick on the shoulder. “When are we going to get you to settle down like your brother?”