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I swallowed hard. “Can you…what?”

“Fuck you.” He pressed the single digit on my entrance.

The zing of pleasure was automatic. Precum pooled at my slit, and my cock twitched as if it had been zapped with a cattle prod. Obviously, my body understood what my brain hadn’t quite unscrambled. He wanted me. Me.

Christ, it had been a while. Years. I wasn’t sure I’d be good at it.

“I…I don’t…I don’t know,” I stammered, sweating as he applied just a smidge more pressure. And yeah, I felt it from the roots of my hair to the tip of my toes.

“Look at me, Reg,” Waylon commanded in a deep timbre, bending to kiss me as his finger pulsed like a heartbeat. “You want this, don’t you? I’ll stop if you say stop. No question, no explanation. But I promise…I can make this good for you.”

My voice didn’t work. Or maybe there was a grapefruit-sized ball of “holy shit” stuck in my throat. But as long as he kept touching me, kissing me, I was a goner. He could do whatever the hell he wanted.

“Lube.” I pointed at the nightstand and licked my lips.

Waylon leaned across me, filling my senses with the scent of sex and the whisper of bad ideas. Though…this didn’t seem so bad to me. Unless I ended up being a really terrible lay.

Just fucking relax.

He squeezed some lube onto his palms. He greased my pole, sliding his left hand up and down while he teased my hole with a slick digit. “That’s it. Open up for me. My cock is ten times the size of the average pencil, baby.”

I huffed a laugh, pushing him aside to take over stroking myself. “Very funny.”

“How about this? Does that feel good?” Waylon twisted his fingers and glided them along my prostate.

“Yes. Fuck!”

“Mmm. Soon,” he purred, slipping another finger inside. And another.

As promised, he took his time, slowly coaxing me into a state of utter and absolute goo. I gripped my cock in a chokehold to keep from coming too soon. A necessary precaution against the onslaught of sensation, the burn followed by bliss.

“Stop.”

Waylon went still, biting into his bottom lip as he gently pulled away. “No good?”

“Too good. Do it.” I dug my heels into the meaty part of his ass. “Just…fuck me.”

I didn’t have to say it twice.

Waylon suited up, slicked his cock with lube, and climbed over me. “This is where I tell you it’s gonna hurt a little.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo, cowboy. I—” I gasped as he pushed, sliding past the initial ring of muscle. “Oh…fuck, that’s…”

“One huge dick. I know.”

I snort-laughed, digging my nails into his shoulder instinctively. “Yeah, I believe you, but⁠—”

“Shh. I got this.”

And damn it, he did.

Patience and persistence paid off in spades. Waylon’s arms trembled slightly and the vein at his temple pulsed, but he remained steady, inching his way through my tight channel till he was balls deep. We didn’t speak. I wasn’t sure I could manage anything coherent, and I was more interested in studying Waylon. He wasn’t classically handsome by any stretch, but he was compelling with his sharp features, soulful gaze, and intricate inkwork of interlocking vines and flames on his chest.

I had him by a good ten years, but Waylon had the aura of someone who’d seen it all and then some. He was a little dangerous. Hell, he looked the part, too. Feral, cunning, mischievous…and yet, still so fucking steady and even. Maybe that was why I trusted him. There had to be a reason a seasoned control freak like me would surrender like this, offering my ass to someone I barely knew.

I needed this. I needed someone else to call the shots and make me forget who I was for an hour or two.

Waylon rolled his hips…oh, so subtly testing my readiness. He seemed to know when to move and how much I could take. Every thrust, every push and pull built layer upon layer of pleasure.