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I settle him against a bare wall, holding him securely against me, resisting the urge to abandon his thighs in favor of groping his ass.
“Weston,” he whimpers. “Need you.”
The two words shoot straight to my cock and somehow simultaneously act like a bucket of ice-cold water crashing over my head. I can’t have Beck. Not because he doesn’t deserve me and not because I don’t want him, but because he isn’t safe yet.
I can’t cross this line further, not until any thought that I may be helping him to get him into bed is entirely removed from his mind. I want him, but I can wait. Even if it’sbrutal.
“Not yet,” I whisper, pulling my mouth from his. His face falls, but this can’t be avoided. “Soon,” I add gently. “I have to make some calls, and you need to get some more sleep. Later on today, we’ll take a trip up the mountain to see my friends for some help. Okay?”
He licks his wet lips, and rasps, “Okay.”
CHAPTERFIVE
Beck
“My friends are expecting us, get in the truck, rebel boy.”
The words aren’t what I’m expecting to hear only minutes after freshening up post-lunch. Weston made the best cheese toastie and creamy tomato soup I’ve ever eaten, and I thought that was a treat enough already. I didn’t expect him to find willing help so quickly.
I know that hesaidwe would go see them today, but I had doubts. I don’t know these people, and I wasn’t sure strangers would be keen on helping me out. In what way Weston thinks they can be of assistance, I’m not even sure. But I don’t voice any curiosities, simply hop into his big ass truck and snuggle into the blanket he tosses into my lap with a ridiculous blush on my face.
I never considered the idea of crushing on someone like Weston. First of all, he’s older than me, and not by a small margin. He’s big and tough in a way that I never found myself drawn to before. He’s an actual woodsman living in the mountains. He doesn’t know how to dress in anything other than flannels and jeans. He hunts, handles weapons with ease, and drives a lifted truck for fuck’s sake.
Before him, my type was exclusively pretty boys. Musicians, models, artists… none of them hold a candle to Weston. And Weston turned me down.How mortifying.
Well, not entirely. He was sweet and gentle about it. Sayingnot yet, rather than no. Assuring me with the promise ofsoon,instead of explaining why it’s a bad idea. Weston turning me down has only made me want him more. He’s just so…good.
Yes. Good. He’s a good man.
A good man who’s dick I’m going to bury in the back of my throat as soon as it’s allowed. I may be half a virgin, but Weston Rhodes has me thinking all kinds of slutty thoughts.
He’s such a daddy. I blush at the thought, looking out the window so that he won’t notice. I’m a gay almost-twenty-year-old whose only freedom up until now has been on the internet. I’m well aware of all sorts of kinky stuff, none of which has really interested me until Weston. Being taken care of is apparently my kryptonite.
One thought of it and I’m already planning to let the naughty word slip sometime to see how it suits him. I’ll bet he likes it, growls about it, and kisses me silly.
The truck begins to slow, and I realize we’re approaching a driveway. It’s a good thing too, because this train of thought was leading me towards a path of a painfully stiff hard-on.
“Almost there,” Weston states, his voice bringing a smile to my lips.
The smile quickly turns into one of surprise as we pull up to our destination and I’m able to observe the place.
The house is massive. The word house doesn’t even seem to fit this larger-than-life woodsy mansion. The structure is sitting on what looks like endless acres of land, surrounded by lush trees and forest. Seemingly a wood cabin sized up, the place looks daunting and cozy all at once. With large windows, well-maintained sidings, and the sturdy roof, it’s a hidden oasis that many would pay ridiculous sums of money to vacation in.
When I seethem, it makes the space even more intimidating.
Six huge bodies. Six men are standing on the wrap-around porch, appearing tall and firm, watching as we get out of the truck. They look like threats—like they could crush me with their bare hands in the blink of an eye. These aren’t the kind of men I would run to for a hug, but fuck I might have hired them as security once upon a time.
Even if the vibe they omit is not one of welcoming, I believe Weston when he says we’re here for help. If these men are willing to help protect me, I’m not in the position to turn them down.
Weston gets my door for me and helps me jump down from the truck without breaking an ankle. We walk together, approaching the house in an awkward silence.
Nobody speaks as we reach the bottom of the porch steps.
“Right,” Weston finally says, clearing his throat. “Beck, this is James, Conrad, Bridger, Ethan, Ford, and Samson. The Scott Brothers.” He points each one of the men out as he names them, going down the line.
He’s about to open his mouth to say more when the door bangs open, and a woman in a yellow sundress floats through it wearing a mischievous smile. Each of the men stiffen, moving closer toward her as if to guard her from us.
Weston looks like he’s holding back a chuckle. “This is Stella, Bridger’s wife.”
