Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Lord have mercy, he was wore. He’d taken a hit that sent him flying around the arena and half of Tulsa. Coke headed back behind the chutes, shoulders rolling.
“Coke, man!” AJ waved at him, waggling a phone at him. “It’s Bax. Wants to talk to you.”
“Wants to mess with me, I figure. That pretty gal of yours doing good?” He climbed up the chute, reached for the phone.
AJ nodded, the big old boy grinning like the fool he was for his Missy. “She’s good. Here you go.”
The little phone felt warm and tiny in his hand, the rail cool where he held it, but Andy Baxter sounded large as life on the other end. “Hey, Coke.”
“Howdy, friend. How’s the leg?” The poor bastard had busted it but good. It was hard to keep your mind in the middle when you was worrying about things.
Serious things.
“It’s still there. How you doing?”
“I’m good. Took a bit of a hit.” Which is why Andy was calling, of course. “Did it look good on the TV?”
“Looked like you were never gonna land. Jason said he could hear it.”
“No shit? Anything… Anything new there?” Please, God. Say yes. Say a miracle’d happened and the boy’s eyes were right again.
“No.” The word was flat, not leaving a lot of room for hope. “Nothing new. He’s missing the road, too.”
“Damn. ’Kay. I’ll come out at the break, huh? Work some.” He’d hung a bunch of hopes on Jason Scott, he surely had. Nothing’d been the same since the son of a bitch had fallen, broke his damn fool head, and lost his sight. Still, he thought, if they worked it…
“Thanks, Coke. That’s real good of you. Real good.” Andy sounded tired. Almost fuzzy now. Course, with a busted up leg, it was hard to stay awake more than a few hours at a time.
“Yeah, yeah. I gotta go. AJ’s staring at me, wanting his phone back.”
“Okay. See you soon, huh, Gramps?” He could hear the please that Andy’d never say.
“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll be there.” He clicked the phone off and tossed it to AJ, shaking his head at the curious glance he got as he climbed over and down back onto the dirt.
Damn it.
“Everything okay?” AJ tucked the phone in his pocket, moving out of the way when one of the ground crew pushed at him.
“Same old same old. It’s cool if I come to yours for the break?”
“Shit, yeah. You know you’re welcome, old man.” AJ clapped him on the back. “You know the family loves to see you. Daddy’s asking after you too. Has some idea about building him a smoke pit for get-togethers. Jase told him you were the pit master.”
“Good deal.” He grunted as his shoulder twinged. Man, it was hell, getting old.
“Sorry.” AJ frowned. “You need to see the doc?”
“Nope. I’m good as gold.” Or at least really fucking cheap tin foil. “Gonna head to the hotel, man. Two more stops, then we’re off a while.”
“Yeah. I’m missing the kids.” He got a sunny smile, AJ heading off, letting him breathe a minute.
He hung back until he knew Nate and them would be gone, then he headed back to the dressing room to change. The sound of water running told him someone was in there. The sound of melodic singing told him it was Dillon. Nate and Fred couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.
Dillon, though, that man could sing.
He leaned a little, slowly working his shoes off, listening. It made a man happy, that voice.
That ass.
That fine smile.
Fuck. Be good, Coke.
The song changed to something more upbeat, the water sounding like rain, and he could just imagine that tight butt shaking. Wagging.
That gave him a serious happy and he closed his eyes, listening. Going with a quick little fantasy about that pretty ass, right in his hands.
He was a little wrapped up in the fantasy. So much so that he missed the water turning off. Missed the sound of the singing getting closer. He couldn’t miss a very wet Dillon popping up right in front of him, though.
“Boo!”
“Oh!” Oh. Oh, God. Oh, God. He turned around, quick as he could, swaying with it. “Sorry. I was…”
Fantasizing.
Thinking about you.
Needing to jack off.
“Dozing.”
“Oh, hey. I didn’t mean to scare you.” One warm hand landed on his shoulder, thumb rubbing his neck. “Sorry, Coke.”
He groaned, head going forward a touch. So good. He was so damn sore.
“Oh, someone’s got a bad spot.” Damned if Dillon didn’t move in behind him, both hands on his poor neck, rubbing long and slow.
“Oh, sweet Christ.” He braced himself on the wall, the massage too fine to stop.
“Yeah? Good? God, how do you stand this, babe?” Dillon had good hands. Real good hands.
“Ain’t got a choice, I guess.” Don’t stop. Not yet. Please.
“I guess. You’re like frozen rope, though. I should know, too. Everything freezes up my way.” Dillon didn’t stop, kept on rubbing, giving him something to live for.
“Yeah, so I hear. My place is on the other side—all heat and swimming pools and hot tubs.”
“That sounds pretty damned good, huh?” Warm, damp and good, Dillon leaned against his back, rubbing harder.
“I… Uh-huh.” He was hard enough to cut glass, his dick aching with it.
“Hell, the hotel has a hot tub. We could go soak.” He could feel Dillon’s breath, right there on the back of his neck.
“I… We could. I… You… You hungry? We could stop and grab something on the way.” He worked it right, he could stop, grab his dick in the bathroom, just for a second. Wouldn’t take long.
“You know me. I’m always empty like a worm.” Dillon worked harder than just about anyone out there, all night long, full out.
“I hear that.” He let his eyes close again, took a deep, deep breath. “Thanks, Dillon. I was stiff.”
Still was stiff.
“No problem. You go get clean, I’ll get dressed, and we’ll go have food.” Patting his ass, Dillon be-bopped past him, shaking that heinie for all it was worth.
That barely-covered-by-a-towel heinie.
“Okay.” Uh-huh. Okay. Damn. He headed for the showers at a run, thanking God and all the angels that no one was going to see him tug off, thinking about that.