Page 92 of Tough Guy and the Show Off

“Fuck,” I whimper.

“I know, baby. Look how hot we are together. We look so good.” He strokes us slowly for a few beats. “I’d fuck you, but I wouldn’t last thirty seconds inside your perfect hole. I dream about it, Beau. About fucking you, sliding inside your hot body, and that face you make when I stretch you out.”

I grip his shoulders, fucking into his fist. “Me too,” I pant. “I dream about you too.”

“Yeah? Do you dream about fucking me?”

“Oh fuck.” My cock twitches, spilling more precum. “No. I can’t take it.”

“We’re gonna do that too. We’re gonna do everything, baby. Because you’re mine.”

I force my eyes open. “And you’re mine.”

“Completely. I think I always have been,” he murmurs.

Nodding, I grip his forearms as my climax races toward me all too soon. I want this feeling, this perfect fucking moment, to last forever.

“Fuck, Beau. Your cock is so hard. I’m gonna come so fucking hard.”

“All over me.”

Trav moans, releasing a guttural, sexy-as-fuck noise that vibrates through me. He leans in as close as possible, catching my lips in between puffs of breath.

I inhale him, drown in him, desperate for him.

My orgasm hits and I cry out his name, arching into his fist as cum spills over his hand.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Trav grunts as he joins me.

I manage to keep my eyes open and on him, entranced by how sexy he looks as he pumps against me until we’re both too sensitive to take any more. He slumps on top of me and I wrap my arms around him, kissing his sweaty neck, so damn happy he’s here I could cry.

“Jesus,” Trav mutters after several minutes.

“Yeah.”

“That was worth a three-hour plane ride.”

I chuckle. “Should I be flattered that you came all this way to get off with me?”

“You should be flattered.” He props himself up on his elbow. “But that’s not why I came. Not the only reason, anyway.”

“Is everything okay?”

He nods, his gaze soft and pretty. “I have a surprise and I needed to tell you in person.”

“Okay.”

“You know I’m a free agent at the end of this season.”

My brow crinkles. “Yeah.”

“What if I told you that I asked to be traded?”

My brain stutters. “What?”

“To Chicago.”

I sit up sharply. “What?”