“Oh, good. I would not make you angry.” Moaning, Balta shifted, leg brushing his.
His lips were so dry that they burned when he licked them. See? This was why having the cooler up front was a good idea.
“Did you want a drink,doce?” Like there was nothing hanging out, Balta lifted and turned and dug into the cooler. Which waved things all over.
Oh,Deus. His fingers wanted to touch, to wrap around that heavy bit of flesh. When they did—completely of their own accord—Joa gasped at himself.
Balta gasped, too, sitting down hard in the seat. “Joa.Doce. Oh, that’s good.”
“I…” His hand moved like it had its own mind, working up and down, exploring every inch of Balta’s dick.
“Mmm.” That sound. He would hear it in his dreams for weeks. “Watch the road, Joa.”
“Sim.” His eyes were on the road, but his heart, his soul was touching Joa.
Satin skin, melting hot rubbed against his palm, and he could feel how damp the tip was. Balta was humping up, noises coming from deep in his chest. It was Balta he was touching. Balta.
His Balta.
“Oh…Doce. More.” Balta’s hand clamped down over his, moving it faster.
He blinked, staring at the road, at the traffic, at the cars.
“That’s it… That. Uhn.” The long, low moan was the only warning he had before Balta spilled out of his hand, seed hot and silky and wet.
Oh, God.Deus. Lord. He.
Oh.
Oh, he was.
Goodness.
“Joa?” Balta was hoarse, panting. “Are you well?”
“I.Sim. I think so. You. You are a demon.”
“I just needed to express how you make me feel, huh? Do you need, Joa? We could pull off.”
“I can’t, Balta. It is daytime.” His cock throbbed, ached. He needed, so badly.
“So? I just came in your hand,doce. At this point, you owe me an orgasm.” Balta made it sound so reasonable.
“I owe you.” Wait.
How did that work?
The truck started heading for an empty picnic area, as if by magic. Balta had bewitched it.
Humming, Balta watched him like a hawk, and as soon as he parked, the man was on him. One broad hand opened his jeans, and Balta’s mouth fastened on his neck.
“Balta!” His dick had left a spot on his briefs, and nothing ever had felt like Balta’s hand.
“Joa.” Balta’s hand slid down his cock, thumb rubbing his foreskin back and forth.
“Sim,” he whimpered, wanting to move, to touch, to do something, but one of his hands was on the steering wheel clenched down, one hand was sticky, and he simply couldn’t. Balta made it easy not to think, though, rubbing him, stroking him, keeping him at a fever pitch. Joa didn’t have to do a thing.
His toes curled in his boots, the leather tight where he stretched it.Deus. Deus, please.
