Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 48446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
“Now it’s my turn to fill you up, Dr. Benning,” I told him, pulling off his other shoe and yanking his jeans over the long, sculpted legs. “And I ain’t using no rubber.”
He bowed up off the bed and ordered me to hurry in a voice I never heard before.
“Cy?” I smiled at him.
“Oh God, Weber, move! Get the fucking lube!”
No one ever wanted me the way he did, and for a second, before he’d screamed my name, I’d wondered if planning on leaving made me the stupidest man on the planet. But when I leaned back to him, lube in hand, he walked his sock-covered feet up my chest, levering up off the bed, flipped back like he was doing one of those bicycle kicks in soccer, and held the pose. The only parts of him touching the mattress were his shoulders, his pink, puckered hole right there for me. All I had to do was bend forward and taste it. I put a hand behind his thigh to help with his balance before I ran my tongue over his crease.
“Weber!”
“Love how you yell my name, Cy, fuckin’ love it.”
“Please, Web.” His voice cracked with the strain.
Normally, I stretched him, licked him, prepared him, and made sure he was ready for my dick.
“Just fuck me!”
Tonight that wasn’t what he wanted. Sometimes he liked it rough. He liked me to use him and pound him and make him scream. He had missed me badly.
I shoved my jeans and briefs down together, slicked my hard, leaking cock with lube, smeared some between his cheeks, spread them, and shoved my way inside his quivering hole. His body arched against mine as I drove in to the hilt.
“Fuck!”
His thighs were shaking as I folded him in half, bent over him so his legs slid over my shoulders, and thrust hard and deep.
“Jesus, Cy, you’re so fuckin’ tight.”
“Web… Weber,” he rasped, eyes locked on mine.
I had never been inside him without a condom. “You feel so good. God, so good.”
His harsh whimper tore through me, his arms flung to the sides, fisted in the comforter, trying to hold on, while he begged me to fill him up. The chanting was an endless litany of pleading.
“Grab your cock,” I growled.
“Don’t have to… Going to come with you just being inside… All I need.”
True to his word, as I plunged into him, hammering, pegging his gland, making him cry out with every stroke, he came over my abdomen, his muscles clenching on my shaft like a vise, fisting so tight I roared his name. We were loud, and it was a gift that we could be, that we were safe in his house and could be however we wanted. I emptied inside him, flooding his spasming tunnel, knowing it was coating him inside, spreading everywhere.
“Only you, Web,” he whispered. “You’re the only one who gets this. Ever.”
Ever.
The man was mine.
Heart, body, soul. All mine. I was such an idiot.
“Stop thinking,” he yelled at me, holding up his arms. “Kiss me. I wanna feel your heart beating.”
I eased his legs down gently and started to lean back, to slide free.
“Don’t. I need…closer.”
And I knew what he wanted, to be inside my skin, but I didn’t say anything, just rolled forward and wrapped him in my arms, skin to skin, lips locked together as I kissed him, taking his breath, his moan, everything.
I had never been held so tight.
FIVE
It was really very simple. If I stayed and got a job working as a manual laborer, or a cashier, or learned a skill like being a barista, I would no longer be the man Dr. Cyrus Benning found so alluring. I was a bull rider and, barring that, a cowboy. It was not romantic in real life, but to some people, it was. Cy fell into that category. If I stuck around, I would lose my luster, and he would tire of me.
And yes, his family said I brought out the best in the man, which was amazing to hear, but perhaps that was because when I visited him, all he was—except on the rare occasions we argued—was happy. Being there all the time would change our dynamic. Like him saying he could move to the middle of nowhere. That was crazy. He’d be bored, climbing the walls in weeks. The man was a neurosurgeon, not a country doctor. If he left his life to follow me, he would hate me for what I let him give up—his reputation, his network of colleagues and friends, the amenities his life afforded him. While I appreciated his willingness to sacrifice all that so we could be together, it was a fantasy. In real life, he passionately loved his career, and to take that away from him would be insane.
Even more importantly, his family was here. Following me meant giving up the people who loved him most in the world. And especially now, when Lyn had just lost her husband and the boys their father, Cy was the man they would be leaning on.