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As if summoned to the spot by his thoughts, Jackson’s finger worked inside with his tongue and bent, stroking over Wyatt’s gland. Wyatt yelled again, uncaring how loud he was or that his voice was echoing off the long building behind him. Nothing mattered more than the orgasm teasing him from just beyond his reach.
He humped backward against Jackson’s finger and tongue, needing more, not caring if Jackson decided to just shove his dick inside and get the job done. All he knew was the desperate need to come. He instinctively reached for his own dick. Jackson’s hand squeezed his neck hard, and Wyatt slapped his palm down on the truck hood. The finger in his ass stroked harder and if Wyatt had been physically able to bite through steel, he probably would have. Instead, he keened and clenched around that amazing, wicked finger.
“Fuck, please!” Wyatt whined. “Need to come, please.”
“You will.”
“Now!”
“No.”
“I hate you.”
“I know you do.” Jackson bit his left ass cheek hard and Wyatt yelped. “Come now, Wyatt. Now!”
The finger deep inside Wyatt’s ass smashed against his prostate and Wyatt had no choice. He thrust his hips and yelled and came all over the truck’s grille, not giving a shit where his spunk landed when his body was convulsing with the best orgasm of his entire twenty years. His voice echoed in the vast emptiness around them, and he rode wave after wave of sensation until Jackson’s finger pulled out of his ass, giving him a moment to collect himself. The only contact between them was the constant, familiar weight of Jackson’s hand on his neck, the only sound their combined heavy breathing.
“Fuuuuuuuck,” Wyatt slurred. “Holy shiiiiit.”
“You like being told what to do.” Not a question.
“I guess I do. Don’t have to think.” While he’d had fun fooling around in college, he’d never imagined an experience like this, or that he’d be so turned on by commands and being held down. It seemed so...well, submissive, and Wyatt had never considered himself such in any aspect of his life. His refusal to back down and let things lie was why he was here at all, in Claire County, getting to know his Maybe Daddy in secret.
“Sometimes it’s nice to let go and have someone else lead,” Jackson said softly, just above a whisper. “To trust someone to take care of you. Trust can be hard to find.”
“Yeah.” Wyatt twisted his neck to get a partial view of Jackson’s face. Jackson was staring past Wyatt, probably at nothing in particular beyond a memory only he could see. “I trust you, Jackson. I hope you trust me.”
“Gettin’ there, firebrand.” He took his hand off Wyatt’s neck, and Wyatt immediately missed its heat and weight. “Come on, let’s get inside and get you cleaned up.”
Wyatt straightened, his belly a bit sore from where he’d been bent over for so long, and looked at Jackson’s tented jeans. “You haven’t come yet.”
“I will.”
“Do you, um, want to fuck me?”
Jackson’s eyes narrowed. He leaned in and brushed his nose lightly against Wyatt’s. “Yes, I do. But not tonight, not while you’re high on endorphins and I’ve been drinking. We’ll talk about it first, so we both know what we want.”
“Okay.” If Jackson had asked in that moment, Wyatt would have happily bent back over the truck and let Jackson pop that particular cherry. To let him fuck Wyatt the way Wyatt had fucked him last weekend. The older man’s restraint made Wyatt fall for Jackson a little bit more, especially with Wyatt standing there with his bare ass hanging out, and Jackson’s raging boner obvious to them both.
He pulled his jeans up far enough that he wouldn’t trip as he walked and followed Jackson inside the motel room. He stood in the middle of the room, waiting for Jackson to approach him, shove him to the bed, to do something besides get a cup of water from that dispenser.
“Go ahead,” Jackson said, gesturing at the bathroom. “If you don’t want a full shower, there are washrags under the sink with the extra towels.”
“Um, okay. You really want me to clean up before you get me messy again?”
“Might be a while before that happens.” He winked. “One thing you learn as you get older is delayed gratification can be kind of awesome.”
“If you say so.”
Wyatt dropped his jeans and belt once he was in the bathroom, door shut, and began running water in the sink. He wasn’t actually that messy, just a little sticky between his cheeks and the tip of his dick, because most of his come had landed on the truck. Jackson didn’t seem bothered by the mess, so Wyatt cleaned and dried himself, then tucked his business back into his briefs and jeans. Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck, still able to feel Jackson’s hand there and kind of wishing he’d left a bruise. But while Jackson’s hold had been firm, it had never gone beyond that; he knew how not to leave a mark.
When he left the bathroom, Jackson was in one of the sitting chairs, legs spread-eagle in front of him, jeans open while he lazily jerked himself. Wyatt had an idea of what Jackson might ask him to do before Jackson spoke. “Put your mouth on it. Don’t suck, just keep it warm.”
Wyatt’s spent cock gave an interested twitch as he crossed the small room and knelt between Jackson’s long legs. Licked his lips, excited to taste the thick cock in front of him and just as eager to please Jackson after such an amazing orgasm earlier. “Not sure it’ll all fit,” Wyatt said, putting every ounce of seductive purr he possessed into the statement.
Jackson tapped his cockhead against Wyatt’s cheek. “Take what you can. Don’t choke yourself.”
Wyatt nodded and opened his mouth. He went slow, taking in just the head first, savoring the taste of Jackson’s skin. The heat and silk of him before traveling farther down. When Jackson’s glans nudged at the back of his throat and threatened to upset his gag reflex, Wyatt paused. He held still, desperate to work the length in his mouth with his tongue, to do more than just kneel there, but this was all Jackson had asked him to do. Warm his cock.
