Kota’s cheeks flushed, eyes widening at Walker’s clear displeasure. “Too long. Never mind. Just stop stopping. Please. Please. Please.”
Amusement and jealousy warred within Walker, but finally, he said, “Okay, squirrel. Show me how fast you can come.”
Walker took him back into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he worked over him. Kota was almost dead weight, slumped against the wall, only Walker’s hand on his hip keeping him upright. His low moans punched straight through Walker’s restraint, making him want to spin Kota around and fuck him against the wall. Would he cry? Would he beg like he had a minute ago? Would he let Walker do whatever he wanted with him?
Fuck.
Kota was unraveling, his hands clenching and unclenching in Walker’s hair, his hips desperately trying to thrust deeper into the warm suction of Walker’s mouth. After his fourth or fifth frustrated whine, Walker stopped restraining him, letting him fuck into his mouth with abandon.
There was no finesse, no concern for Walker’s comfort. Kota chased his own orgasm, sexy little sobs and cries escaping every time he hit the back of Walker’s throat.
Walker groaned, then hummed around him, grabbing Kota’s bare ass and helping him use his mouth roughly.
“Oh, oh, God. I’m… Walker…Oh, my God…please…please…” he babbled. “I’m so close. I’m so—I’m so…Oh, fuck,coming?—”
That was the only warning he had before Kota flooded his mouth. Walker swallowed it all, savoring it like it was something sacred. When he sat back, Kota looked down at him from beneath heavy lids.
Walker picked up his hat and stood. “Enjoy your shower. I’m gonna get you some clothes from the truck.”
Kota just blinked at him for a long minute before he nodded, chest heaving. He blinked at him owlishly for a moment before saying, “Yeah, okay.”
Walker made him strip, taking all but his shoes and socks with him.
By the time he had Kota under the water, the boy looked dazed but sated.
Walker hated how much he liked it.
The truck stop parking lot was slick with rain that must have started while they were occupied in the showers, the air cool against his overheated skin as Walker stepped out of the shower building. Diesel fumes mingled with wet asphalt. Somewhere nearby, an engine rattled to life.
The scent of Kota still clung stubbornly to his skin, refusing to be washed away by the damp night air.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and read the message in the app. It was frombugreport404.
Bugreport404
Call me. It’s important.
He could already feel a throbbing behind his left eye as he signed into the encrypted app and pressed the green call button. He listened to the digital ring of the phone, a headache forming pre-emptively. One that intensified the moment he heard the voice on the other end.
“Howdy, Tex,” Tris answered breathlessly.
Walker rolled his eyes at the ridiculous nickname. It was insane to him how such a simple name could always lead to the same moniker. He’d never even seen the show.
“I’ve asked you not to call me that,” Walker said flatly.
“Noted,” Tris said, voice strained. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Walker frowned. “Are you busy?”
“Exercising,” Tris said, clearly winded.
This was why he tried to avoid telephone calls. He didn’t have the personality to carry conversations. He found the niceties of society exhausting.
He continued to pace around his truck, scanning his surroundings, ever cognizant of anyone who might overhear the conversation. Not that anyone would be able to follow it. Half of Tris’s conversations sounded like the ramblings of a man experiencing a medical emergency.
Walker glanced up at the sky. Thick gray clouds hung low, blocking out the moon, letting him know the rain wasn’t finished yet. The only light came from the hollow yellow streetlights dotted along the massive parking lot, amplified only by the reflection in the oily pools of rainwater gathering in the potholes. Rows of sleeping tractor trailers stretched into the darkness, their running lights glowing red and amber like watchful eyes.
He sighed. “Where’s your husband?”
