Chapter 10
I’m done sneaking around.
Wade was right about that much. The hiding, the tiptoeing, the pretending nothing happened at dinner while I’m tasting Flynn’s cum in the back of my throat. It was fun for a while. A secret thrill. But it’s also exhausting. And for what? He knew the whole time.
So here I am. Bent over his kitchen table in nothing but a cooking apron, ass out, heart slamming, looking at five cowboys who haven’t blinked since I walked in.
Flynn is the first to make a sound, a low whistle that dies in his throat when Wade pushes his chair back and stands up. Part of me expects him to grab me by the hair and throw me out. Put an end to this whole charade.
But he doesn’t.
He walks around the table, slow, boots heavy on the floor, until he’s standing behind me. The heat of him radiates against my bare back. I hold my breath.
He puts a big, calloused hand on my lower back, right over my tailbone. His touch is firm, possessive. “You’re a good cook, Justin.” He exhales through his nose. “You’re also a goddamn troublemaker.”
My cock twitches against my stomach, trapped under the apron and already leaking.
His hand moves down, following the curve of my ass, his thumb dragging across the skin where my cheek meets my thigh. He pauses there. Squeezes. The strength in that grip. Those same hands rope and fence and hold this whole ranch together. I bite back a groan.
“Ever since you showed up, this crew’s been wound tighter than barbed wire.” His hand comes down on my ass, a sharp slap that punches a gasp out of me. “You’ve been causin’ problems. Flynn, Sam... every last one of ‘em.”
He does it again, the other cheek. Harder. The sting blooms hot and spreads through me.
“Am I right? You been teasin’ my men?”
“Yes,” I breathe, fingers gripping the edge of the table.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir.”
The others are dead still, watching with wide eyes and parted lips. I see Flynn’s knuckles go white as he grips the arms of his chair.
“Teasing them,” Wade repeats, and his hand comes down again, the crack echoing through the kitchen. “And now you’re bent over my table asking for more.” His thumb hooks under the apron string and tugs it away from my skin. “Teasin’ me. In my own kitchen.”
Another slap. Hard enough to make my teeth rattle. My ass is starting to feel hot, tender.
“What do you have to say for yourself, boy?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” I pant, pushing back into his touch, arching my back. “You’re right. I’ve been greedy. Taking whatever I can get.”
He lands two more in quick succession, both on the same tender spot. I’m leaking steadily now, a wet smear on the inside of the apron. “You been in that tub with Flynn?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Been with Sam at the bar?”
“Yes, sir.”
Another slap, harder than the rest. “What about you, Rex? You get a taste too?”
Rex’s jaw is tight. “Yes, boss.”
“Malik?”
Malik leans forward, elbows on the table. “How could I say no? Look at him.”
“So let me get this straight.” Both hands grab my ass, fingers digging into the stinging skin, holding me open. The cool air on my hole makes me shudder. “You let my entire crew have a go at you, and now you’re offerin’ yourself up on my dinner table like a goddamn buffet?”
“Yes, sir,” I manage.
“And you don’t see a problem with that?”
I swallow. “I shouldn’t have done it behind your back. That was wrong. I want to make it right.”
“Oh yeah?” His thumbs press deeper. “And how exactly do you plan on doin’ that?”
“However you want,” I say, pushing back against his grip. “Use me. All of you. No more secrets. No more hiding.”
Wade lets go. His hands leave my skin, and the cool air rushes over me. I brace for the worst.
Then I hear buttons popping. The clink of a belt buckle. The rasp of a zipper.
The four guys at the table gasp in unison.
I risk a glance over my shoulder. Wade is standing there with his jeans shoved down over powerful, hairy thighs.
And his big, hard cock is pointing right at my ass.