In a Fix (Torus Intercession 2)

“I broke you,” he quipped.

“No. I think you made me.”

He swallowed hard, and I heard his sharp release of breath before he bumped into me and began kissing over my jawline until he reached the sensitive spot right under my ear.

“I wanna go now,” he said, giving me the low, rough order. “I don’t wanna visit. I’m not—I can’t be here anymore.”

Pulling my hands from the soapy water, I turned on the faucet, rinsed them, and shut it back off before taking the towel from him and drying them. It was almost done anyway. There was a casserole dish left, and there would be dessert plates because there were several tarts, one pie, and a German chocolate cake on the table.

“Jackie,” I called over to her, “I’m so sorry, but we need to go.”

There were several disappointed voices lamenting our imminent exodus.

Jackie crossed the room to stand in front of me, while Dallas rushed over to the couch to collect my suit jacket.

“You have to miss dessert?”

I leaned close to her. “Your son has something to discuss with me, and I don’t want to ask him to wait. Is that all right?”

“Of course,” she told me. “And thank you, Croy, for not saying it was work or something other than what it is.”

“Well, I am using the word ‘discuss’ as a euphemism for something else,” I said, grinning at her. “But you’re a smart woman, and you know what it means when a relationship is a second old.”

“I do,” she said, studying my face. “But I have to tell you, this doesn’t feel new to me. Does it feel new to you?”

She and I had forged a relationship built on honesty; I would not derail it now. “No, it does not.”

She nodded. “Please come see me before you leave town. I don’t think I could bear it any other way.”

“Yes, ma’am, I certainly will.”

She took a breath. “Everyone, the boys have to go. Duty calls.”

I unrolled my shirtsleeves as Dallas held my jacket for me, sliding it up over my shoulders and then passing me my watch, which he’d been holding.

“We’ll see you later,” Dallas told his mother, giving her a kiss on the cheek before he turned to Thad, who had moved to stand beside his wife, to say goodbye, and held out his arms.

Jackie squeaked ever so softly as Thad, utterly overwhelmed, if his slack expression was any indication, gave him a hug. Dallas pulled back quickly, not lingering, held up his hand to the room, and then grabbed my bicep.

“Next time, I’ll finish all the dishes,” I promised her.

“I don’t care,” she told me. “Just come back; dinner cleanup is not a requirement.”

Following Dallas out, I closed the door behind us and kept pace with him until we reached his vintage SUV. Inside, he took a deep breath, calming himself, and then pulled slowly out of the driveway.

“You’re really great with my mother,” he told me.

“That’s because your mother is lovely, and she’s exactly how I always imagined mothers should be,” I assured him, checking to see if I had a lube packet in the pocket of my blazer. As callous and calculating as it was, I made sure that I always had a condom and lube in every suit jacket, because one never knew when supplies would be needed.

“Well, she’s crazy about you,” he told me. “But that only makes sense.”

My pulse was racing, I could feel the heat on my neck and face, and my cock had thickened so fast it was almost painful.

He was on the freeway quickly, and I would have made it until we got back, but he reached over and took my hand, lifting it to his lips, and sucked my thumb into his mouth.

“Get off here,” I directed.

“What?”

“Now,” I barked at him.

He merged over to the exit and pulled off.

“Make a right at the light,” I told him, and he did it without question. I directed him to a gas station that appeared to be closed, and we pulled into the lot, then behind the building.

“Turn off the car,” I ordered, reaching under my seat to pull up on the lever and shoving back hard, making it slide fast on the track, making room for my legs and, more importantly, for his.

“Take off your shoes, take off your pants, and come here.”

He choked on a gasp, and as he toed off the monk straps I’d loaned him and fought with his belt and button and zipper, I slowly, methodically loosened my own clothing and slid my jeans and underwear to my knees. Pulling the lube packet from my pocket, I used my teeth to tear it open, and greased my cock, quick and dirty, wiping my hand on my dress shirt because it didn’t matter in the least.

He got one leg out of his pants and climbed over the console, reaching for my cock and lining it up with his hole, notching it against his cleft, his eyes meeting mine.