Chapter 17 #2
No help for it. Don’t make things harder than they have to be. Will only had the space for one immutable emotional attachment, which was good because that meant he wasn’t going to be hurt when he and Cole went their separate ways.
It didn’t stop him from wanting to make the most of the time they had together now, though.
As soon as they were back in their actual room, a floor-level bungalow with a tiny private garden in the back and lace curtains that did a great job of obscuring anyone’s view inside but let in plenty of light, Will pressed Cole up against the door as soon as it was closed and purred, “Now, what were we saying about rough?”
His tune changed as he took in the way Cole’s brow furrowed for a second with impact. “Or maybe we’ve been rough enough.”
Cole rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.” He shifted slightly. “Just a little sore.”
“’Fraid we need you fighting fit, baby. ” The way he was hardening up signaled he was interested, though, and Will was nothing if not flexible. “C’mon, you can fuck me instead.”
Both of Cole’s eyebrows lifted. “You—oh right, I guess you do like that.”
He must’ve been remembering walking in on Will with Marcus. Ugh. He could do so much better.
“I like a lot of things,” Will said. Including you. “Let’s get out of our monkey suits and I’ll show you just what I mean.”
“Painter’s overalls.”
“Same difference.” He had the feeling Cole would absolutely argue the etymology of the idiom if he gave him the space to, so he captured his mouth in a kiss instead as he walked them backward to the bedroom.
He bumped into a solidly built armchair on the way and swallowed a curse when Cole chuckled again.
Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.
They’d been in and out of so many different hotel rooms lately that it was impossible to keep the layouts straight in his head.
The only consistent point between them all was Cole himself, an anchor that kept Will from floating away in a daze.
Cole was the only point of reference he needed right now.
Getting undressed took too long; Will couldn’t quite make himself stop kissing Cole while he was doing it.
He expected the fastidious man to bitch—about their speed, about the way the clothes were crumpled on the floor, about Will’s distraction—but he didn’t.
He just took it all, focused in on Will just as hard, spread his big, warm hands across Will’s back and pulled him in close before sucking a line of bruises down the side of his neck.
Will loved being marked. If they weren’t so incriminating, he’d have a dozen tattoos instead of just the one, but bruises were the next best thing.
He lay back on the bed, pulling Cole with him, and wrapped his legs around Cole’s waist as lips became teeth.
“Mm, you can bite harder,” he said, then amended, “Maybe not on my neck, though,” because hiding the hickeys was going to be enough work.
Cole one-upped him by pressing his mouth against the ball of Will’s shoulder and biting down slow and deep, enough to make Will hiss from pleasure and a little rush of adrenaline before he backed off.
Will turned his head and stared at the mark with satisfaction.
Yeah, that was going to blossom into a great bruise. “Fuck, you’re good.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
There was an undertone to that statement that made Will think someone had told him otherwise at some point.
Given how seriously Cole took commitment, the last person he’d slept with before Will might just have been Marcus.
Goddamn piece of shit. That fucker was all hat, no cattle.
“More,” was all Will said, though, and Cole seemed happy to oblige him.
Maybe too happy. Will already knew how amazing Cole’s mouth was, but being on top seemed to open something up inside him—let him turn that meticulous side into a quest to make Will come way too soon.
He had the kind of coordination that made giving a fantastic blowjob while fingering Will open hot instead of perfunctory, and Will had to push him off and roll them so that Cole was the one lying on his back.
“Just can’t get enough, huh?” he asked a bit breathlessly as he reached for a condom.
“It’s not my fault you’re… oh my God.” Cole bit his lower lip as Will rolled the condom over his dick. He was thick enough that the two fingers he’d worked into Will were barely going to be enough, which was perfect.
Will grinned at him. “Yeah, I am,” he said, then slid forward so he was hovering over Cole’s hips.
He braced one hand on his chest and used the other to steady Cole’s cock so he could finally get it inside him.
The burn he felt flared, then tapered off as he sank down, mouth dropping with satisfaction as Cole pressed against his prostate, sending a shiver down his spine.
“Fuuuck.” He drew out the vowel, even more country than usual but he didn’t care.
He was stretched and full, his shoulder still ached, and his body was covered with marks the shape of Cole’s mouth.
Will slowly opened his eyes—he hadn’t even realized they’d fallen shut—and smiled down at Cole. “I’mma ride you now, okay?”
Cole just nodded. He looked the opposite of how Will felt—eyes wide, body tense as piano wire.
“You good?” Will asked.
“I’m—” He cleared his throat. “I’m good. Yeah.” He put his hands on Will’s hips, gently encouraging him up, and Will took the hint. He lifted and sank down again, slow and steady, keeping a pace that would give them both a chance to enjoy.
Maybe not as long as he wanted, though. Cole was thick, and it took almost no time to find an angle that made sure the head of his cock hit Will’s prostate on every stroke.
Will couldn’t come from just fucking, but if he could it would be like this, with someone who filled him just right and didn’t rush him, let Will control the pace, take his time, and grind down just the way he needed to.
“You feel so fucking good,” Will said, unable to keep his mouth from running. “I don’t know what I like better, making you fall apart on my cock or riding you into the fucking sunset. Christ. I want to keep you in bed for a week, have you every which way until I can decide…”
“Please,” Cole whispered, and that, that was what Will had been waiting for. “I want to come, I need to—please let me come.”
Holy hell, was this boy sweet in bed. “Yeah.” Will nodded.
Sweat slid down the side of his face and onto his chest, but he picked up the pace anyway.
“Yeah, do it, come in me, I want to feel it.” He reached for his own dick, but Cole got there first, fist tightening on the upstroke and thumb sweeping across the head, and Will fell forward onto his hands as every muscle in his body clenched at once.
He came first and hard, Cole’s pleasure a momentary afterthought as his orgasm wrecked him.
He was aware of Cole holding him close and thrusting in a few more times before stilling with a groan, but Will almost never felt this kind of hazy glow during sex, and he was reluctant to fight it off.
He was too used to doing the work, maintaining his charm and handling everything for his partner—why make it harder for someone to want you, after all?
But Cole had asked, he’d said please, and now he was touching Will gently, cleaning them up and getting a glass of water and being a goddamn gentleman, and that was… nice. Really nice.
Too nice to look too close at. Don’t think, just enjoy it.
Will didn’t relax quite enough to sleep, but he dozed for a while with his head on Cole’s shoulder. When he surfaced, he braced himself for snarky commentary, but all Cole said was, “Are you hungry?”
Now that he mentioned it… “Starving.” They ordered food without bothering to get dressed, or even get out of bed, and passed the time by asking random questions.
“Favorite heist?”
“Louvre,” Cole said immediately. “The new one, I mean.”
“Bullshit,” Will said. “That’s not your style at all.”
“It doesn’t have to be my style for me to like it,” Cole replied. “Was it a ridiculous endeavor that probably shouldn’t have worked but somehow did? Yes. Honestly, it reminds me of some of the stories I hear about your jobs.”
Will put a mock-affronted hand to his bare chest. “Excuse you, I would never threaten a man with an angle grinder!”
Cole laughed. A regular laugh, not a quiet huff or hidden chuckle—a belly laugh.
“I think you would if you were backed into a corner,” he said, and Will nodded because he might just agree with anything if it kept that laugh going.
“But I also appreciate the fact that they stole the crown jewels. If you’re going to go big, go big. ”
“I hear that.”
Lunch turned into dinner, a shower turned into round two, and by the time they fell asleep Will was thoroughly exhausted and more content than he’d been since his last visit to the ranch.
He might have slept right through the alarm that started going off if Cole hadn’t had to let go of him to check his phone.
“Shit,” he said as he sat up in bed.
Will wiped a hand down his face as he followed suit. “Visitors?” he asked with a sinking feeling.
“Yep.” Cole turned the phone and showed him the feed from their other hotel room. Yep, that was two, four—Jesus, an eight-man team currently ransacking the place. All of them were masked, and all of them were armed. There were no visible company logos, though.
“Who’d Cheyenne give us up to? Marcus or Alders?”
“They’re probably one and the same at this point,” Cole said. “It doesn’t matter, though. We need to go get our forgery, now.”
He was right. They still needed the fake Puffin to get a meeting with Alders. Hopefully Cheyenne had actually bothered to make it instead of hedging her bets and banking on them being taken out.
“I don’t get it,” Will said as he got dressed. “If she’d waited a few more hours she’d have had half a million dollars instead of a tenth that. Why act now?”
“Maybe someone forced her hand,” Cole replied, buttoning his shirt. “We’ll find out soon enough.” He glanced at Will. “Carefully, though.”
“Of course.”
It wouldn’t do to fuck up this close to getting what they needed.