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He crosses his big arms and shrugs, staring down at me like a god from a mountaintop. “Maybe.”
“You gonna let me up, bro?”
“I believe that answer is a yes and a no.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Yes, I’ll let you up. No, I won’t let you up right now.”
I chuckle, which is a little difficult to do with Stefan’s weight on my chest compressing my lungs. “What do I gotta do?”
Stefan quirks an eyebrow. “What do you gotta do? For me to let you up? Are you saying you’re at my mercy, Ryan?”
I feel a rush of blood down south even though I just came half an hour ago in the tree.
Why do I get the sense that he’s about to put me through another act of public indecency?
And why am I so fucking excited by the idea?
To be fair, he didn’t come; Stefan’s in a slightly hornier mind-space than I am, most likely. “Maybe … I can agree … to take care of you when we get back to the house.”
He nods. “Go on.”
“Go on?”
“Tell me more. Tell me exactly what you’re going to do. And be detailed.”
Stefan is enjoying himself and his power over me way too much right now. And I fucking love it.
“I’ll probably start by making us dinner,” I tell him, “unless we get something on the way home. Then I’ll give you one of my signature massages. With lotion. Every inch of your body.”
Stefan tries to play it straight with an indifferent face. “So far, so good.”
“We’re even talking your feet,” I go on. “Every inch. When I get to a certain swollen, aching part of yours—the part that might contain a lot of … tension …”
“Lots of tension.”
“I’ll be sure to spend extra time there. Lots and lots and lots of time. I may even resort to a few massaging techniques that can only be done with the mouth. And my tongue.”
His crotch—which is basically against my face—flexes through his shorts. My words are doing half the job already. “I’ve heard good things about that tongue,” Stefan says teasingly.
“You’re going to feel a bit more tension before it subsides.”
“Oh?”
“And then you will feel a great … great … release. It will be the best damned release you’ve had all week.”
I wink at him from between his legs, staring up the massive muscled tower of his body. Every one of his abs pops above me. His pecs look like flesh mountains. His face, farthest away, is the face of a king.
“So?” I prompt him. “How do you like my master plan for relieving your ‘tension’?”
After exactly one second of deliberation, Stefan plants a hand on the wood floor at either side of my head, bringing his face halfway down to mine.
“Your plan sounds good … and evil.”
He puts a kiss on my forehead.
“It sounds right … and wrong.”
He puts a kiss on my left cheek, then another on my right.
“And I … am … fucking … ready to experience it firsthand when you are.”
At that, I grin. “Oh, I was born ready, bromo.”
Then Stefan’s off me in an instant, throws me over a shoulder, and takes me out of the park while I laugh and struggle in his powerful grip.
22
STEFAN
“Take your shower while I get dinner ready.”
I lift an arm and give my pit a sniff. “Got a problem with my funk?”
Ryan pulls out a pot and sets it on the stove, then shoots me a look over his shoulder. “Get that shower or you’re not getting any of my angel hair primavera.”
I lick my lips. “Well played, bro.”
“Shower.”
I walk past him on my way to the hallway and give his ass an unforgiving, full-handed swat. He probably jumps ten feet in the air, and I accept each of those feet with pride.
In the shower, the filth from Terry Creek washes off my body and swirls down the drain. The warm water is therapy to my skin, but it’s going to be nothing compared to what Ryan promised me when I had him in a head scissor between my thighs.
Maybe I have the heart of a bully, but the brain of a lover. Maybe that’s why I love tackling Ryan to the ground, claiming dominance over him, then getting my way.
And I do it because I know he wants it. I want it, too.
And I do it knowing that no one else does it. He’s mine to take to the ground and no one else’s. He’s mine to fling over my shoulder and carry out of Terry Park, still damp from our accident in the creek, and struggling to get free.
He’s not fooling either of us; he doesn’t really want to get free.
And he won’t.
Of course it’s when I start soaping up my junk that I spot Ryan through the transparent shower curtain. He’s by the bathroom door, which I left wide open because the steam builds up too much when it’s shut.
