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“I’m not babysitting you.”
“Yes. You are. I got stuff to do. See you guys tomorrow.”
He nods at us both and walks out.
“Do you think he’s okay?” I ask.
“He’s as okay as he ever is. In the grand scheme of things, I don’t think today is different from any other day with him.” Dusty turns to me, tugs me into his arms. “But it is different for my man. You went to see your mom and your sister…and you’re buying a bar. You’ve had quite the day.”
I chuckle, nuzzle his throat, suck at the skin there. “I’ve had an incredible day…a few of them since I’ve been here, and I’ve had them because of you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Dusty
We drive home, then make spaghetti for dinner. We go to the back deck to eat, enjoying the summer night and the sounds of nature around us.
I can’t pretend I’m not thrilled with the way things have been going—Morgan offering to stay, and now looking into buying the bar. It all feels too good to be true, and part of me is waiting for it all to fall apart.
But he seems happy, different from the Morgan he’d been when he’d first come home. Though I can tell the conversation with Easton earlier is weighing on him.
“You okay?” I ask when we’re done eating. We’re still sitting outside, string lights above us and nothing but the dark woods in the distance.
“Yeah.” He reaches over, squeezes my hand, and doesn’t let go. I love how he seems to always want to be touching me, how sometimes it’s like Morgan needs to be as entwined with me as he can get, as if he would live in my skin if it were possible.
“He’ll be okay. We’ll make sure of it. I don’t want you to stress about it tonight, though. You’re buying a fucking bar, Morgan. That blows my mind. You have no fear.”
His head whips in my direction. “How do I have no fear?”
“Well, in a lot of ways, but you’re just going to start a business, one that isn’t something you’ve wanted your whole life, and I know you’ll succeed at it. I know you’ll make it great.”
“You started a business too.”
“Yeah, but it was something I’ve always wanted. I always knew I would do auto body work. You’re trying something completely different.”
He chuckles. “And I might fail at it.”
“You won’t, but the fact is you could, and you’re doing it anyway. I think that’s a reason to celebrate.”
He cocks a brow, seemingly reading the way my voice drops an octave. “Oh yeah? How will we do that?”
“You’re gonna sit back and let me play. I’m gonna pleasure my man.” I get off my chair and kneel in front of him. Morgan is sitting back, legs spread, arms on the rests on each side of the chair. His dark hair is mussed from a day of running his fingers through it. He reaches out, cups my face, the rings he wears cool against my skin. I burrow into it, kiss his palms, then get to work, taking off one shoe, then the other.
After I open the button and zipper on his jeans, I tap his thigh, and Morgan lifts his hips so I can tug his jeans and underwear off. He’s not fully hard, his cock at half-mast, resting in the nest of dark hair at his groin.
I spit in my hand, wrap it around his shaft, and slowly start to stroke him to life. His flesh is warm against my palm as his balls fill and his cock swells. Leaning in, I kiss one thigh, then the other.
His fingers tangle in my hair as I nudge his sac with my nose. Morgan scoots down in the chair, spreading his legs, while I lick the seam where his thigh meets his groin.
Heat radiates off him, warm musk and the scent of amber that always seems to cling to his skin. It invades my senses, but it’s not enough, never enough.
I suck his balls and savor the sound of Morgan hissing out his pleasure.
“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. This is your night. You lead the way.”
I feel his grin before I look up and see it. When I do, the damn thing steals my breath. There’s nothing as beautiful as a happy Morgan Swift.
“I want it fast and hard. Take me to the back of your throat over and over until I spill my load.”
