Page 20 of Housesitter

It was answer enough.

Shepherd’s thighs ached with a heavy, dull heat as he rode Kel, pleasure folding him in waves as he pushed himself down onto the thick, ready cock. It was Kel who set the pace, though. His hands on Shepherd’s hips controlled the pace, slowed it or drove it faster. And every time it felt like Shepherd had fallen into an easy rhythm, the thrust of lean hips up off the ground would break it into stuttering flutters of breath-squeezing pleasure.

The heat of the conservatory wrapped around them. It slicked their skin with sweat, the smell of salt sharp and primal, and banked the already fevered heat. Shepherd could feel it slide between them, hear the slap of his ass against Kel’s thighs.

He threw his head back as he felt the knot of pleasure in his gut twist tighter. It felt like it was anchored in his balls and his bones, like he’d break first if it didn’t release. He needed…more? Faster? Harder? Fuck it, something. Anything. He just needed it now.

Instead he got Kel’s hands on his hips, steady in a way the man was definitely not, and the thick, insistent throb of the cock that split him wider with each thrust. Words clawed at the inside of his throat—please, anything, oh, God—but he bit them back until he tasted blood.

Pleasure was like pain; it loosened the tongue and made you willing to promise all sorts of things. Usually that just led to disappointment or heartbreak, but in Shepherd’s line of work it was never safe to assume that there wasn’t something with its ear to the wall.

He braced both hands on Kel’s chest, fingers dug down into the muscle for purchase, as he thrust back against him. The threads of sharp, prickling sensation that were strung from his ass through his organs twisted tighter, and he felt the weight of it all settle in his groin.

Just before he thought he was going to come apart, the tangle of pleasure and need and frustration snapped. Come splattered milky and clear over Kel’s stomach, and pleasure seeped slow and sticky through Shepherd’s stomach and thighs.

He sagged forward, his arms struggling to support his own weight, and swore raggedly under his breath as Kel finally let go of that unexpected self-control and thrust roughly up into Shepherd. He came with a ‘fuck’ and a ragged intake of breath.

Shepherd let his arms give way, and he sprawled out on top of Kel as he felt Kel’s cock soften and slip out of him. He pressed a kiss to Kel’s throat, the taste of sweat salty and sour, and then rolled off to the side. His feet brushed against Kel’s legs as he stretched out, his head on Kel’s shoulder.

It felt a little too comfortable, too easy, but he felt too bonelessly sated to do anything about it right now.

“You know what the first thing I’m going to do when the town signs this place over to me is?” Kel said after a moment.

“Sell it?”

“No. I mean, probably, but before that,” Kel said. “I’m going to drag a fucking couch in here.”

Chapter Six

Hell House Client Brief: Don't bury any bodies in the rose garden. They're on a diet.

“You’re in a good mood,” Ruby said. She sounded suspicious.

Kel stopped mid-whistle and slid out from under the Firebird. He wiped oily hands on the front of his overalls as he sat up.

“I got laid,” he said.

“You get laid all the time,” Ruby said. She offered him one of the coffees she’d made. “It doesn’t make you whistle.”

Kel shrugged as he took a ginger sip of the coffee. It was too hot to tell whether it was bad or not. That had always been Ruby’s trick when she worked in restaurants.

“Yeah, well…” He trailed off before elaborating. It would just make Ruby antsy if she thought he was ‘getting attached’. Even though he wasn’t, it was just kind of…fun to fuck someone who saw you for who you really were and was OK with it. Usually when someone really got Kel, it was just before they told him they never wanted to see him again. He didn’t want to spend his morning explaining that, though, so he pivoted to the other reason he was in a good mood. One that would cheer her up too. “I also heard that the bank wouldn’t extend the deadline on the Milligan farm until after the big machinery auction.”

Ruby stopped mid-drink of her coffee. She lowered the cup and frowned at Kel.

“Are you thinking of taking advantage of the old man’s daughter?” she asked, one eyebrow raised. “It’s only two weeks since she buried her dad, and she hasn’t been on a farm since her mom divorced Milligan and moved to Woodstock.”

Kel nodded. “Exactly,” he agreed. “She’s still in shock from finding out her inheritance is debt, and she’s got no real idea what that machinery would go for. Now she’s desperate too, so I’m pretty sure I can lowball her on Milligan’s combine.”

Ruby snorted as she leaned back gingerly against a work table. She took a drink of coffee, smudging lipstick over the chipped rim.

“You’re welcome to try,” she said. “But I remember her mom. Ellie Milligan was no one’s fool, and…well, let’s just say that no one was surprised when she turned up pregnant just as Ben Milligan was losing interest. Don’t put money on her daughter being an easy mark.”

Kel held his coffee out to the side as he braced his free hand against the Firebird’s tire to lever himself back up onto his feet.

“Good, I like a challenge,” he said. “And greedy people are even easier to con than desperate ones.”

That got him a look of disapproval. “Really, and who told you that?” Ruby asked.