Page 37

I showered, changed, fed Tate, and was about to fire up the grill just as my doorbell chimed.

Tate went berserk. He bolted through the house, barking his head off.

“It’s okay, buddy. We like this guy,” I assured him.

Waylon flashed a lazy smile. “Hi. I—whoa! Hey, there.”

I grabbed the dog’s collar. “Cool it. No jumping. This is Tate. He’s a lovable goofball with questionable manners.”

Waylon put his hand out for the dog to inspect. “He’s got to double, triple-check. Don’t you, buddy? I respect that.”

Tate wagged his tail like a maniac and raced off to get a ball. If I knew my dog, he’d coerce his new friend to throw it for him till his arm fell off.

“He’s very friendly.”

Waylon snickered, spreading his thick thighs as he stooped low. My gaze snagged on the bit of frayed fabric at his crotch, his broad shoulders, and his big hand partially buried in my dog’s fur. Lust zinged through me like a lightning bolt. I wanted him.

“Nothing wrong with that. Thanks for the invitation. I was going to bring wine or beer, but⁠—”

I lunged, grabbing his face and sticking my tongue down his throat.

Zero finesse, zero cool, zero patience.

Thankfully, Waylon didn’t mind. He pushed back hungrily, battling me for dominance. We sucked, licked, and nipped at each other, swaying and rutting like wild animals.

The feel of Waylon’s erection pressed against mine was nirvana. I pumped my hips, gasping at the shiver of pleasure that skittered along my spine.

Christ, I had to have him…or he could have me.

I bit his bottom lip as I pulled away. “Upstairs. Come.”

Waylon raised a brow but gamely followed me up the stairs and into my suite where we collided again, all tongues and grabby hands. I closed the door, much to Tate’s dismay, but this was a private show.

He yanked my tee over my head and made a deep growly sound. “God, you’re so fucking sexy.”

“You…too. Too many clothes,” I hummed in between hungry kisses. “Strip.”

“Yes, sir. Whatever you say.”

I snorted, too strung out to be perturbed. Or maybe it was the sight of Waylon’s tee riding high on his chest, revealing his tattooed, toned torso. Yeah…I was drooling. I tugged him in the general direction of my king-sized bed, biting his lips as we worked madly on our belt buckles and zippers, finally stepping out of our shorts and kicking off our shoes before falling onto the mattress.

Two thin layers of cotton boxer briefs were no match for a couple of monster hard-ons, but we couldn’t separate long enough to lose them. We rolled from one end of the mattress to the other, humping and grinding. We were roughly the same height, and I hadn’t been with a man who was big enough to pin me down in years. I liked it.

I loved the weight of his body, the feel of his muscular thighs, his tight grip on my wrists, and the urgent glide of his erection against mine. I arched to meet his rhythmic thrusts, thinking I should probably launch a counterattack soon. My brain wasn’t operating at full capacity, so the best I could do was slide my fingers under his briefs and push them out of the way.

Waylon grunted in agreement, bracing his weight on his right arm to wriggle free of the fabric. He was back a moment later, cleaning my tonsils as he nestled between my thighs. Breathing was an issue, but I was on fire now. Getting close to him was all that mattered.

Thankfully, Waylon was on the same page. He broke the kiss to help me out of my briefs. I’d thought we’d continue where we left off, but he had other ideas. He moved south, circling my nipples with the tip of his tongue, tickling my ribs with his beard, and then his mouth was hovering over my cock.

I held myself at the base and tapped his chin. “You want this?”

Waylon gave an imperceptible nod, opening wide and taking me to the root in one swoop. I threaded my fingers in his hair and closed my eyes. Fuck, he was a blowjob maestro.

I felt the stress and worry of the day slip away as he worked his magic on me. My eyelids were heavy, and my limbs went lax. He had a talent for being everywhere at once—his mouth on my cock, hands on my balls, a finger nudging my crease, and⁠—

I tensed and struggled to lean on my elbows.

Waylon released my dick with a pop, but his finger didn’t budge. “Can I?”