Page 90 of Jackrabbit

Harsh panting crackled over the radio. “Might not be able to help it. Your voice gets all growly when you're mad. Makes me wanna—”

Colt cut himself off with a moan and took the next turn with textbook precision. And damn if that didn't just make Beau harder.

“Box,” Beau snapped, his hand gripping the radio so hard the plastic bit into his skin. “Right now.”

“Ooh talk dirty to me, baby,”Colt purred.

Beau turned toward the hauler. “You got thirty seconds to bring it in.”

Colt pulled up twenty-nine seconds later, cut the engine and nearly fell out of the car in his haste to get to Beau. He dropped his helmet on the ground, his balaclava on top, and stalked toward the hauler like he was the one hunting.

Beau smirked.

“ThankGod,Beau, I think I'm gonna burst.” Colt reached for Beau the second he was close enough.

Before Colt’s hands could make contact, Beau moved. He snagged the back of Colt’s sweaty neck in a firm grip, and Colt made a soft, needy noise. Then Beau used his grip to drag Colt inside and snapped the door shut behind them. He didn't give Colt a chance to speak—grabbed the front of his suit and pulled him into a bruising kiss. Colt groaned into Beau's mouth as Beau shoved him against the side of the hauler and set to work getting his suit undone.

“Yeah.” Colt pushed forward to get the arms of his suit off and nearly got tangled. Beau kissed and licked down Colt’s throat, savoring the salt of him, and Colt tipped his head back for more. “Fuck. Please. I swear to God, I have been hard the entire day. I'm gonna die.”

“Did it to your goddamn self.” Beau growled it into the skin of Colt's neck as he helped Colt get the suit down. He ran his hand down to the front of Colt’s shorts, his palm skimming the hardness, the warmth, thewet. Beau's cock twitched in his jeans. “Christ. You really were gonna come in there, weren't you?”

Laughing, Colt rutted against Beau’s hand, his suit slipping down to pool at his feet. “If you kept talking to me like that, yeah.”

Beau grabbed Colt by his arm and spun him, pushed his face into the wall of the hauler. The soft thud of flesh against metal nearly drowned out Colt’s pleased huff. Then Beau tugged the waistband of Colt’s shorts down to the lower swell of his ass, tucked it underneath and groaned. Shit. The red lace contrasted gorgeously against Colt’s pale skin, cutting into both cheeks anddisplaying half of each one. With the black shorts pushing up underneath, it looked like that ass was being served to Beau on a goddamn platter.

Hand hovering over the lace, Beau stared. His fingers twitched with the need to touch, toruin. Colt had worn this for him. Had spent the entire day squirming in the tightest underwear—no,panties. Fucking panties. And Colt had known exactly what this would do to Beau. Because Colt knew exactly which buttons to push, and he was mashing them all at once.

“I appreciate being devoured with eyes as much as the next guy, but—Beau, please—" Colt's hips shifted, seeking friction that wasn't there. "Hands would be nice. More than nice. I'll do anything, just—"

Beau ran his finger along the lace where it disappeared between Colt's cheeks, pulled it tight, and let it snap back.

The noise Colt made—half gasp, half moan—hit Beau like a fist.

Sweat trickled down Beau’s spine as he pushed Colt’s pink compression top up. He slid his hand down Colt's asscheek and squeezed, then hooked his thumb under the lace and pulled it aside—just enough to see how the fabric had been pressed into Colt's crease, damp with sweat. Colt pushed himself back into Beau, shameless.

Beau was a strong man.

But he wasn'tthatstrong.

He let go of Colt’s shirt to pull open his own belt, the clink of his buckle audible enough in the space for Colt to hear. He twisted around, eyes wild, bottom lip swollen like he'd been biting it. “Shit. Beau. Are you gonna—” His eyes flicked down to Beau's crotch and he whined, the softest thing. “Pleasetell me you're gonna—”

Beau let go of his belt and forced Colt’s face back around. “No.”

Then he grasped Colt’s hips with both hands and pulled until Colt’s back arched, skin sweat-slick under the afternoon light filtering in from outside. “You spent all day fucking with me, Colt.”

He pushed both hands up Colt’s sides and leaned so he could talk into Colt's ear as he ground himself into Colt's ass. “So,” he murmured, pre soaking into the front of his boxers. He fitted himself between Colt’s perfect cheeks and rolled his hips. “Now you get to feel me get mine—" Beau ground himself harder so Colt could feel exactly how hard he was. "—and you don't get to touch yourself. You don't get to come. You just get to stand there and feel what you've done to me.”

“What?” Colt turned to watch as Beau pulled back and finished undoing his pants. “That's not fair!”

“Never said I was a fair man.” He pushed Colt’s face back around to the sounds of protest. “Now be good and stay there.”

It had been weeks of self-denial. Beau hadn't so much as rubbed one out in the shower, too caught up in his own head about it. As he pulled himself out and stroked it over Colt’s ass, he let out a rough breath. He hooked his thumb under the lace, pulled it aside, and pushed his cock against Colt's bare skin—the panties framing his shaft, rough fabric dragging with every thrust.

Colt made a broken sound—half sob, half moan—and tried to push back, to get more friction, more contact,something.

Beau pinned him harder against the wall with a hand between his shoulder blades. "Stay. Still.”

It didn't take long. Weeks of denial, days of Colt teasing, and now this—red lace framing that perfect ass, Beau's cock catching on the waistband with every thrust, Colt squirming and making high, wanting noises. The lace dragged against him, rough and perfect, and Colt was whimpering, saying Beau's name like a prayer he'd forgotten the words to. He groaned as he finished, white streaking across the fabric, dripping off Colt’s lowest tattoos.