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I took my time, inching forward and allowing Waylon to adjust to my girth. I paused to rock my hips, kiss his nose and his brows, and bite his earlobe. I wanted him relaxed yet on the edge. Blissed out but greedy and hungry.
He grabbed my ass, anchoring me in place for a beat before growling, “I’m ready. Fuck me.”
Yeah, there it was.
I obeyed, thrusting deep. I kept a steady even tempo, smoothing my palms along his chest and his biceps, studying his every response—the flutter of his long lashes, a puff of breath, a quiver of his lips. Waylon liked this…maybe even loved it, and he wanted more.
I draped myself over his chest and pumped my hips double time. He responded with a low roar, shoving and twisting till our positions were reversed and he was on top of me.
“Holy fuck.”
Waylon gave a short laugh, but he didn’t stop moving. He looked like a wild cowboy, digging his heels into my thighs as he rode me, his cock thumping against my lower abs. I took him in hand, stroking an even rhythm as pleasure flooded my veins.
There was no turning back now. I was gonna shoot and—
Cum spurted across my belly and hit my chest. “I’m coming. Fuck, I’m coming!”
He didn’t stop moving. Thank God. I was close and then…I was flying.
I gasped as my orgasm ripped through me, sending me into a new realm. For one sweet moment, I was skybound, floating above a hotel room in the city…not a care in the world.
I had a vague thought that I should cling to the sensation for as long as possible. No doubt regret was lurking just around the corner.
We took turns cleaning up.
I insisted Waylon go first. I figured he could make an easy getaway while I showered. No harm, no foul.
I lathered soap in my hair, imagining the awkward reunion in Wood Hollow. Strained smiles, clumsy silences, and the excruciating feeling of being watched by curious townsfolk who wondered if there might be something going on with the police chief and the new guy. Ugh.
There was a time I would have been petrified to the core…sure that my inability to control my desire for a man would seal my doom. A star football player, son of the police captain caught with a gay lover? No fucking way.
Coming out had been the best, albeit the hardest thing I’d ever done. But sometimes, I still had to remind myself I was free and single, and I wasn’t doing anyone any harm. Jesus, I was forty-six years old. You’d think the crushing weight of guilt and fear would have faded by now.
And it had. Mostly.
I dried off and changed into sweats and an ancient Smiths T-shirt, then opened the door, bracing for the aftermath of what I had to admit had been a pretty spectacular one-night stand.
Waylon sat on the desk chair, tying his shoes.
He glanced up with a playful scowl. “You smell minty fresh. That doesn’t seem fair.”
I chuckled as I finger combed my hair and perched on the corner of the wrecked bed. “Help yourself. I can order room service if you’re hungry.”
“No, thanks. I’m fine. I, um—is this gonna be weird?” Waylon gestured between us meaningfully.
I shook my head. “Absolutely not.”
“Okay. Cool. I just…I like my job, and I kind of need it.”
I frowned. “Huh?”
“Look, I’m from a small town, too. I’m not suggestin’ you’re crookeder than a dog’s hind legs, but I’ve seen a few ‘upstanding’ men get fidgety ’bout gettin’ caught with their pants down. Especially if there’s another man involved.”
Waylon’s accent was stronger than I’d ever heard it, and filled with a Southern twang that took me off guard. However, I understood him. And while I wanted to be irritated that he’d inferred I’d use sex as a weapon, I appreciated his directness.
I raised my hands in a show of solidarity. “I’m a little insulted that you’d think I’d use my position or my friendship with your boss against you. But I get it. Small towns can be brutal.”
“We should probably pretend this didn’t happen, huh?” The accent was gone. Or so light, it was more of a lilt. He lifted a hand before I could reply. “I know the answer to that. For the record, I’m horny for you. And as you astutely guessed, I have been for a while.”
