Page 144 of Jackrabbit

“That’s my good boy,” Beau murmured.

The diesel rumbled closer, joined by a second truck, and Beau’s hand slowed, grip loosening just enough to make Colt’s thighs shake with the effort of not thrusting up and chasing his own finish.

Beau pulled back far enough to look at him—flushed and trembling with the effort to be good, his shirt clenched between his teeth as his cock dripped over Beau’s knuckles—and he hummed, dark and satisfied.

“Christ, look at you,” Beau murmured. He brought his hand to his mouth, but this time instead of licking it clean he spit into his own palm without taking his eyes off Colt’s.

When he brought his hand back to Colt’s shaft, it was slick with his fucking spit, the wet, filthy sound of it sliding over him drowning out his own panting. A muffled whimper escaped his chest before he could stop it, and Beau’s other hand clamped over his mouth, pressing the shirt deeper, holding his jaw shut.

“Shh.” Beau’s lips brushed his temple as he stroked faster, ruthless, twisting at the head on every upswing. “Y’hear that? They’re just outside. You want them to hear you? Want them to know you’re in here getting your pretty little cock worked over by your crew chief?”

To be continued…