Chapter 20 Silas #2
I cocked my head curiously. “He does?”
“Maybe not all the time, but I get the impression you’ve become good friends.”
“We have. I mean…we are,” I stammered.
A door opened from the opposite end of the house and Cooper boomed a greeting. “Anyone here?”
Ivy and Chase scrambled to hug their dad, bags in hand as they spoke over each other to report the makeup shenanigans, and “Oh, man! You have to see Silas, Dad! It’s so funny!”
Cooper met my gaze, and damn, he was stunning in his plaid shirt, worn jeans, and work boots. His hair was a tad disheveled, as if he’d been raking his fingers through it all afternoon, and his eyes were weary with fatigue. But that smile. Fuck, he melted me.
“Pretty.” One word. Inaccurate too, but I was stuck in his web, unable to make my feet move.
Minutes ticked off like a time bomb, or maybe it was seconds. I had no idea. And I really needed to fucking move.
Sarah cleared her throat and reached for the doorknob. “We have to get going. See you at the game Saturday. Let’s go, kiddos!”
Ivy and Chase both hugged me before jogging to their mom’s van, a familiar argument about who was sitting shotgun drifting on the summer breeze.
Sarah followed them, and yes, I should have bolted too.
We looked conspicuous, standing in the doorway like an old married couple. But still…I couldn’t move.
“What did I miss?” Cooper asked, the deep timbre of each syllable humming through me. He stepped behind me and kissed my ear as the taillights faded from view.
“Nothing too exciting.”
He hummed, dipping his free hand under the elastic of my workout shorts and boxer briefs. “You sure about that? That shade of purple is new. I like it.”
“Ha. Ha.”
“No, I mean it.” He gripped my cock and stroked me. “I’ve never fucked a guy who wore makeup. Don’t know why. You look very—”
“If you say pretty again, I’m gonna punch you,” I choked out, jerking my hips to encourage him to go faster.
Cooper bit my neck. “I was going to say hot.”
“Mmm. I can live with that. Just…more.”
He squeezed my tip and smeared precum along my length. “Thank you for today. I appreciate it. Let me show you how much.”
I gurgled an incoherent reply. Something like, “Uh-huh, yeah, youshhh…”
His hands were everywhere all at once now. One pumping my dick, the other tweaking my nipples, gliding over my abs, my ass, and my thighs while he kissed and nipped my throat and my shoulders.
Cooper finally released me and spit on his palm. “I love this view. Show me that hole, boy.”
I obeyed, too turned-on to question the sharp edge in Cooper’s tone.
Two fingers nudged, then thrust inside me. I tried to relax, bracing one hand on the wall as I stroked myself. Three fingers and a porny monologue praising my ass, my cock, and my sweet mouth later, I was trembling with need.
“Fuck me now.”
“Stay here. I’ll get a condom and—”
“Just…do it. We’ve only been with each other. I was tested in April. If you’re okay with it, I am too.”
Cooper pulled away. “Still need lube. Upstairs, my room, on the bed on your knees. Go.”
I sprinted up the stairs, shimmied out of my workout shorts and boxer briefs, and yanked my tee off before shoving the duvet aside and climbing on my knees to the middle of the mattress.
Cooper was slower to join me. I was sure it was some sort of torture disguised as foreplay, but he finally appeared, naked with a bottle of lube.
He motioned for me to scoot closer to the edge. The click of the cap, the feel of cool slick and probing fingers; then…he was inside me.
“You…got to move. Please.”
“Oh, I will. But I’m not going easy on you, baby. I want to take you for a ride,” he purred.
“Quit promising me a good time and fucking do—”
I didn’t finish that sentence. Nor did I attempt speech for a few minutes. I clawed at the sheets, arching into every thrust, grunting as Cooper pounded into me, massaging my prostate in a frenzy. He wouldn’t let me touch myself.
“Mine,” he growled, his hands on my shoulders as he fucked me so hard my cock bounced against my lower abs. “Look…look in the mirror, baby. Look at yourself. Look at us.”
Huh? Cooper guided my chin and pointed at the open door to the bathroom and our reflection in the mirror over the marble sink. Me on my knees, face flushed, biceps flexed and straining to stay upright as the beast of a lumberjack drilled my ass from behind.
Christ, I almost came on the spot.
“I have to…you have to…”
Cooper slowed, rolling his hips languidly. “Yes. But I don’t want to stop. We look good together. My cock in your hole.”
I moaned. “Come on. Do it. Come in me.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and let go, pistoning his hips and barking an order to touch myself. I was a goner almost immediately, and Cooper was right there with me.
I didn’t try to move. I lay flat on the mattress in the middle of the wet spot and concentrated on breathing.
“Are you okay?” he asked, resting a hand on my left ass cheek.
I lifted my head and grinned. “Yeah. I’m good. So good.”
Cooper smiled fondly. “Me too. You’re so…beautiful. Lavender really is your shade.”
“Okay…fuck you, asshole.”
He chortled merrily, tickling my sides till I twisted around, almost bopping his nose. We wrestled like schoolboys, made out a bit, and finally agreed we needed showers, stat.
Later, we made dinner and watched the Mets get destroyed by the Dodgers.
We talked about the kids I coached and the funny things they said.
We talked about Bea Flannigan potentially closing her bakery and what business might take its place.
And Cooper shared a story about one of the industrial hydraulic log spitters getting clogged and spewing sawdust in the mill and the blueberry tart his assistant brought to the office that morning.
Neither of us mentioned his ex-wife or the kids or the fact that we had maybe a month left before I’d leave for Boston.
Fine by me.
If I had my way, I’d stay in this bubble forever. It was nice…and safe. And I could kid myself into believing I belonged here. ’Cause damn, I wished I did.