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Chapter Nine
This was such a bad idea, and Jackson had no idea where his brain had gone when he agreed to take Wyatt back to the motel. Part of his brain had dropped directly to his dick, that was for damned sure, because he was hard the entire drive. It did not help that Wyatt had inched as close as his seat belt allowed, and it made Jackson want to pull off onto the nearest deserted road and fuck the kid’s brains out in the truck.
Or take him over his knee and spank Wyatt for being so fucking sexy, with those pouty lips and flyaway curls.
Bad. Idea.
But everything in him said it would be worth it.
As long as it was just one time; that was all it could be.
Wyatt practically vibrated in his seat by the time they got back to the motel. Jackson stalked right inside, jeans uncomfortably tight, trusting Wyatt to either change his mind and stay in the truck, or to follow him. He followed. As soon as Wyatt was inside, Jackson slammed the door shut and crowded Wyatt against it. Not easy with Wyatt’s height, but Wyatt seemed to try to make himself smaller, deferring to Jackson and what he wanted.
Jackson wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted, other than to get off with Wyatt. He crashed his mouth against Wyatt’s in a fierce, dominating kiss. Showing him that no matter who fucked who this morning, Jackson was in charge. Wyatt relaxed against him, hands squeezing his hips, submitting perfectly to what Jackson wanted. Nice. He tasted like ginger ale and something uniquely Wyatt, and it was addictive. Like the finest scotch.
Wyatt showed a touch of spirit by licking into Jackson’s mouth, not quite reversing the power of the kiss, but also not completely submitting to Jackson. He liked a challenge. Passive sex was unsatisfying now. No more rolling over and taking it; no more partners who did the same. Enthusiastic consent, as Wyatt said earlier, was a hell of a turn-on.
He allowed Wyatt to nudge him backward, and they each divested the other of their coats. Said coats landed wherever, as did boots when they separated long enough to yank them off. All that mattered was getting to skin-on-skin as fast as possible, and then they were wrestling together on the bed, first Wyatt on top and then Jackson. Over and over, they moved together, still kissing and groping, hard cocks rubbing, neither really trying to overpower the other. The struggle was the fun part.
While closely matched in height, Jackson still had a lot of muscle on Wyatt, so he eventually wrestled the younger man onto his stomach with Jackson straddling his bare ass, his cock riding that pretty, pale crease. Wyatt panted, face turned to the left, cheek blazing almost as red as his hair. Jackson liked seeing Wyatt overwrought and no longer so cocksure.
“Get a condom and fuck me,” Wyatt said. “Please.”
“You ever been fucked, spitfire?”
“No. But I want it. Please.”
“Hmm.” Jackson thrust his cock along Wyatt’s crack, loving the idea of gloving up and shoving deep inside. Popping that cherry. But too many memories of uncomfortable fucks kept him grounded. Kept him in the moment and from losing his mind with this hot-headed twenty-year-old.
“Come on, boss, fuck me.”
“Am fucking you, just in a different way. Slow down a little, Wyatt, there’s lots of ways to have sex that aren’t just sticking your dick in a hole.”
“Yeah, but that’s the kind of sex I want.”
“You want me here?” Jackson shifted just enough to press the pad of his thumb over Wyatt’s hot little hole. Not enough to breach him, not dry, but enough for him to really feel it. To know this wasn’t a game and a dick was not small. Hell, a thumb wasn’t all that small. “You want me inside you tonight, Wyatt?”
“I think so.”
“Think?” He rolled Wyatt onto his back so they were having this conversation face-to-face. “You don’t gotta do anything with me you’re not sure about. We can try it the other way, too.”
“Really? You like being fucked?” Wyatt asked. His genuine surprise was all kinds of endearing.
“When I trust the guy I’m with, yeah, I do.”
“And you trust me?”
“Not sure I trust your skill level, but I do trust that if I tell you to do something or not do something, you’ll listen to me.”
It had taken Jackson a lot of years and the right partner to discover that, yeah, he actually did like being fucked. Being the guy who helped another figure out what he did and didn’t like wasn’t something he’d done before, but he would do his best to give the kid a great experience, no matter what.
“Can I touch you there?” Wyatt asked.
Jackson didn’t have to ask where he meant. “Definitely.”
With those long arms, Wyatt had no problem reaching behind Jackson. Slender fingers slid over his ass cheek, toward his crease. Wyatt stared up at him, a little glassy-eyed, and rubbed against Jackson’s entrance, a hard and steady stroke that heated Jackson’s blood and drew a breathy moan from his lips.
Wyatt smiled. “Yeah?”
