Page 4 of A Quick Pit Stop

“Hey, boring gets you from A to B. Nothing wrong with that.” He pushes off the wall and walks toward the vending machines. “Want something? My treat.”

“I’m good.”

“You sure? You look like you could use a sugar rush.”

I watch him feed some money into the machine and punch a few buttons. I should go. I really, really should go. My car is right there. The open road is calling. What the fuck am I still doing here?

Ryan comes back with a Dr Pepper and a bag of peanut M&Ms. He cracks the soda and takes a long swallow. “So. Where are you headed?”

“Hey, um, how would that have even worked?”

“Sorry?”

“I mean, if I had said yes. In there. How would that have worked? That’s a public restroom. Anyone could’ve walked in.”

He stops mid-chew and looks at me. Then that smile creeps back across his face. “Well, for starters, that’s part of the fun.”

“Fun?”

“Oh, yeah.” He pops another M&M in his mouth. “And besides, I’m fast. Real fast. I could’ve already made you come twice by now. All that wasted time working up the nerve to say you want it.”

“Whoa. Pump the brakes, buddy. I never said I wanted it.”

“Yeah, but you’re not leaving, either. So what’s up? You told me you were taking a piss and getting back on the road. But here we are. Still talking.” He takes another sip. “So whatdoyou want?”

He’s got me there. What the fuck do I want? I want to feel like a man again. I want to be desired. I want to forget everything that’s happened and feel something other than this gnawing emptiness in my gut.

Ryan shakes the last M&Ms into his mouth and crumples the bag in his fist. “You said no. Fine. I respect that. I would’ve loved to taste you, don’t get me wrong. Absolutely would have loved to feel those nice big balls of yours slap against my chin. Feel your cock throb as you shoot that hot load down my throat. But hey. You’re not into it. That’s cool. So either get in your car and drive away, or tell me what you do want. Because right now, you’re giving me some seriously mixed signals, dude.”

My dick is an iron bar in my jeans. There’s no denying it now. It’s pressing against the zipper, begging to be let out. All this talk, this… filth, is getting to me. And I hate it. I hate that he has this kind of power over me.

I scrape a hand over my face, the stubble scratching my palm.

“You better be as fast as you say you are.”

3

DOMINIC

Ican’t believe I’m doing this.

This is insane. This is some kind of midlife crisis, but I’m twenty-eight. A quarter-life crisis.

Ryan pushes the door open and holds it for me like a goddamn gentleman. Like we’re walking into a restaurant and not a public restroom next to the highway.

But this road trip was about finding the man in me again. Taking life by the balls instead of standing in doorways watching it happen to me. What’s the point of driving all this way if I’m just going to be the same coward in a different zip code? Maybe this is what I need. Something wild and reckless. Completely out of character. The kind of thing I can never tell anyone about when I get back home.

The door swings shut behind us, and it’s just the two of us and the buzz of the lights. The whole room smells like industrial-grade cleaner and him. That same pine-and-earth scent that, for some reason, makes my dick even harder.

Ryan steps toward me, and I back up until I hit the row of sinks behind me.

“So,” he says, hands on my hips, thumbs hooking into my belt loops. “Last chance to back out.”

“Don’t make it weird,” I mutter. “Don’t talk to me like you know me.”

“Then how should I talk to you?” His breath is warm against my throat.

“Just... shut up and do it. I’m not here to make conversation.”