Rough and Rugged: A Meet Me In Milwaukee Charity Anthology

Chapter Five

Gray

Broad shoulders . . . strong arms . . . each muscle flexing like it’s putting on a show . . . I don’t know how I held back from jumping this man for so long. While I could tell he had a nice body, I must’ve missed the details, though I don’t know how.

I’ve seen Griff without a shirt on several times before. In the middle of summer, when the temperature climbs anywhere higher than eighty-five degrees, the shirts come off. Lifting and moving logs, even with the use of a crane or tractors, is hard and sweaty work. The build sites turn into something similar to a photoshoot for a shirtless calendar. Oh, or maybe the cover of a romance novel. I might have a few of those stashed on the bookshelves in my apartment, but the view I have right now beats them all.

The drive to Griff’s house was a blur. I’ve been here a couple times before, picking up various things for work, so I think my truck was on auto-pilot because I don’t know how I didn’t crash into anything on my way here. I remember parking, climbing out, following Griff up the front steps, and being kissed on the porch, but that’s it. Now, here I stand, shirtless myself, staring at the defined, sculpted, flexing abs in front of me, and I’m struck stupid.

“I—” Whatever I tried to say is cut off when his mouth comes down on mine. His body follows, and we’re moving backward. Well, I am at least. Our stumbling movements stop when my legs collide with the end of his bed, and the next thing I know, I’m down on my back. Again, he follows, the mattress supporting our combined weight.

Propping myself up on my elbows so I can take in the view, I watch as Griff gets closer. Once he’s on top of me, hands and knees bracketing me in, his eager lips take mine and I can do nothing but open and let him in. Our tongues skim one another, our sighs and grunts sound in tandem, and we couldn’t be more in sync.

I wrap my hands around his neck, pulling him even harder down on me, needing every inch of him as close as our remaining clothes will allow. His weight against my own muscles and bulk is an addiction. His heat burns every worry and doubt I’ve ever had about myself. I know that’s a lot to metaphorically lay on another person, but it’s true. Griff is the cooling balm my heart needed.

Now, I need more.

Running my fingers through his hair, I pull his head back, breaking our kiss. “Griff, I need you.”

“You have me,” he whispers as his kisses shift across my cheek then down to my neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“More,” I growl as I drag my blunt nails down his back, trying to show him my frustrations any way I can, short of flipping him over and doing all the work myself. We may not have had the top or bottom conversation, but I already know I’m not the one in charge of this evening’s activities . . . and I’d be more than okay with that, if only he would move a little faster to the fun parts.

Griff’s eyes lock with mine. “What do you need? Tell me and it’s yours.”

“You, Griff.” I pull his hips into mine, rubbing the hardness of my cock against his through too many layers of denim. “I need you.”

And just as fast as he had me on my back, Griff is up on his feet and pulling me to sit. I’m face to stomach with him, and the view is mighty fine from where I’m at.

“You want me,” Griff says, holding his arms out to his sides, “come get me, Gray. Take what you want now, ‘cause the hold on my control is slipping fast.”

So, I do. We already took off our boots at the front door, so that’s one less item of clothing to figure out. I move on to the next big-ticket item—his jeans. Just like I did outside the bar, I grab hold of the waistband of Griff’s jeans, but this time, I tug him between my open legs.

Fingers gripping the material tight, I look up to find his eyes again. “Can I?” I ask as I toy with the corner of the front flap holding his jeans closed. I’ve never asked a man permission to undress him before, especially one who invited me to take what I want, but I feel it in my heart that I want to ask Griff. I want to please him. If he’s happy, I’m happy. And I want to be very happy, so I have to ask.

“Unzip me, sweetheart.” The clench of his fists at his sides gives away his need to take over, but for me, he’s holding back. His words struggle through clenched teeth, another sign he’s barely holding on.

I love the effect I’m having on Griff.

Needing to get this show back on the road, I undo the button, pull down the zipper, and let the denim fall to the floor. He quickly steps out of the bundle and kicks them to the side. Then, using my shoulders for support, I hold his boxer brief-clad hips as he pulls off his socks and they join the pile in the corner.

I glide my hand up the front of his length. Feeling his pulse and twitch through the cotton is intoxicating. The power I have over him right now, even though he’s towering over me, is exhilarating. Needing more, I tug the elastic down, and they disappear. His cock is a piece of art. It’s long and hard, thick, and veined, much like his forearms. It’s standing tall and proud, leaking a drop of precum that I need to taste.

Enclosing him in my fist, I begin sliding my hand up and down, squeezing along the way, especially at the base, which causes him to growl each time. I lean in closer with each pass. Another drop beads at the head, so I flick his tip with my tongue.

I want to suck him. I need to feel him down my throat.

“No.” A deep grumble from above stops me from licking again. He slides his hand around the back of my neck, gently applying the pressure needed to make me look up, forcing me to derail my plans. An almost predatory gleam sparks in his eyes. “I need to fuck you, Gray. No more playing around. It’s my turn.” With that same hand that was so gentle before, he now shoves my shoulder, forcing me back again.

Flat on the bed, I’m jerked and jostled around as Griff unbuckles my belt, unbuttons my jeans, and pulls them down so fast, I swear I hear a few stitches pop. I’m a little giddy when it’s him who’s stunned by what he sees.

“You little minx.” Griff chuckles as he grips my dick. “If I knew you were going commando, I would’ve fucked you in the back seat of my truck before we left the bar.”

“Maybe next time, big man,” I agree with a growl of my own. “What’s stopping you from fucking me now? I need your cock in my ass.”

Griff lets go of my length and uses his whole body to force me to move backwards up the bed. Once my head meets the pillows, he bites my shoulder, marking me for sure. “Topping from the bottom, I see. Sweetheart, that won’t end well for you.”

“I’ve got you on top of me, your cock rubbing against mine, and I have my hands full of your ass right now,” I pant, a half-hearted attempt at snarkiness but it comes out more like a whine. I am pathetic for this man. “Things seem to be going in my favor.”

“Watch your tone,” Griff snaps as he wraps a hand around the front of my throat. He squeezes, restricting my breath without cutting it off, which makes my dick smashed against his, sandwiched between us, even harder. “You want my cock in your ass, you best start behaving. Or I’ll take you over my knee and smack your back end until you can’t sit for a week.”

Holy crap on a cracker. Don’t threaten me with a good time. My eyes roll back, and I can’t hold in the groan of need for just that. “Please . . .” I beg.

“Maybe next time, sweetheart,” he whispers as he kisses my forehead and lets go of the hold on my neck. Trailing his lips down my cheek, his promises continue. “Once I know what it feels like to fill your dark hole with my cum, we’ll explore a little more playtime. Does that sound okay with you?”

“Yes, please.”

“Good boy.”