Chapter Seven
Daire climbed into his truck, looking back to ensure Jim stayed with him. He’d not been this nervous about another man since his early sexual encounters.
Jim slung his leg over a Harley a few spots down while tightening the straps on his helmet, relying more on his right hand than the black-gloved left.
He fired the engine and turned his attention to Daire.
What? Oh. Daire started his truck and eased from the parking lot, slowly enough not to lose Jim following him, though he half expected him to turn off at each intersection.
“Thank you, Goddess, for my having a place nearby.”
The bar sat back from the highway, in a spot the uninformed might call remote, but close enough to the river and a few businesses to get interest, especially as the clientele leaned mostly gay. In this area, full of good-old-boys and downright rednecks, Joe’s lured clientele from miles around.
Several elegant houses sat back from the road, most with docks jutting out over the river. The stately dwellings remained unused most of the year. Would Jim expect Daire to pull into one of those driveways? Nah, not in this old pickup.
Developers approached Daire regularly, wanting to buy the land “Grandpa Nate” left him—likely for a fraction of its true worth, to build more of these overpriced monstrosities.
Daire wouldn’t sell, mostly for the sake of Doc and Nate.
Besides, he’d grown to like the place. Especially tonight, when every moment counted like his next heartbeat.
A full moon played peek-a-boo with looming clouds, helping to light the way as he turned off the paved road, headlights illuminating the tree-lined patch of dirt road.
He wasn’t spraying the motorcycle behind him with dust, was he?
His quick check in the rearview offered reassurance.
The earlier rain served some purpose, at least. Thick stands of cedars and pines opened onto a clearing, with the moon shining on the shimmering river in the distance, lighting the cabin’s new metal roof.
The cabin wasn’t much, as several men had commented, to which Daire had answered, “I didn’t know you came to see the house,” before sending them on their way.
After a few of those comments, he started going home with his conquests, leaving as soon as possible after their breathing evened out with sleep.
He parked in the yard and bounded from the truck, gesturing toward the added-on carport for Jim. Wouldn’t want rain falling on the sweet Harley, but damn, Daire needed to get Jim in the house now. Jim parked where indicated.
Daire sighed with relief that he hadn't been deserted. He stared in fascination as his night’s treasure slid off the bike.
What a fine ass hid inside those tight jeans.
What a fine everything. He’d have a night to remember for sure.
What did the guy look like in dragon form?
It’d been a long time since Daire’s last airborne sex.
No going there. His injuries meant Daire might never meet a lover in the air again. He led the way to the cabin’s front door, taking the four steps two at a time. “It ain’t much—”
“I ain’t here to see the house,” Jim replied in a gravelly voice capable of short-circuiting Daire’s brain cells.
They’d better get inside before his suddenly weak knees gave out. He fumbled with his key, got the lock open, and held the door for Jim.
Jim stopped right inside the front door.
He didn’t bother looking around, spinning to grab the neck of Daire’s shirt and shove him back against the door, which slammed shut from the momentum.
Jim held firmly enough to lay claim without actually scaring Daire senseless.
Oh, forceful. Dragon-style forceful. How he’d missed a properly energetic fuck.
Jim brought his mouth down hard, punishing, sliding his tongue inside Daire’s mouth like a conquering hero.
He slipped his gloved hand from Daire’s neck to the back of his head, plundering his mouth, easing the grip on the abused button-down to run his other hand down Daire’s body. Heat followed in the hand’s wake.
Jim knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to make demands. Daire liked. A lot. Jim pulled back, scanning Daire’s face. “Thought you wouldn’t mind,” he murmured before locking their mouths again. The next time he came up for air, he growled, “Bed?”
“In there.” Daire wrapped his arms around Jim, continuing the kiss while dancing them backward toward the bedroom door. Thank the Goddess for a room only a few steps away. Had he made the bed? Then again, someone uninterested in the house wasn’t likely to complain about crumpled sheets.
They would get crumpled anyway in a few moments.
Meager illumination spilled into the room from the living-room lamp. Jim pushed Daire backward onto the bed, following him down.
Oh, damn. The bulge in Jim’s jeans felt huge against Daire’s thigh. He pressed his answering hardness to Jim’s.
Jim climbed off the bed, whipping his T-shirt over his head and dropping the worn cotton to the floor.
Ink peeked out from the mat of hair on his chest. Hairy chest!
Yes! He yanked off a pair of worn Western boots, then shucked his jeans in a practiced motion.
He wore nothing underneath. Ink covered his arms, shoulders, and legs.
Dragons. Multicolored dragons. Some flying, some spouting flame, another sitting on a jutting spire in the mountains. Jim left the glove on, keeping his left hand by his side. Curious, but so unimportant right now.
Daire wanted to turn on the bedside light, take in Jim’s every beautiful aspect, but didn’t dare pause the action. He saw the chest hair he’d wanted, broad shoulders, lean waist, and a mouthwatering cock in perfect proportion to the rest of a powerful, solid body.
Jim sported battle scars, as did Daire, from claws and teeth. What was the story there?
The question faded away. Jim untied the laces of Daire’s work boots one-handed, then pulled them off, dropping them to the hardwood floor with a thump, thump.
He opened Daire’s belt buckle, again with the dexterity of someone used to using one hand, opened the fly, and pulled Daire’s worn jeans down his legs, taking boxers with them.
Daire’s cock popped free of the elastic to stand fully erect.
Before he could take his shirt off, Jim grabbed the collar again, ripping the fabric like tissue paper, leaving the sleeves somewhat intact.
Good. Daire wasn’t too keen on new lovers seeing the worst of his burn scars.
“I like it rough,” Jim growled. “If that’s not what you want, you'd better tell me now.”
And the cosmos answered every one of Daire’s desires. “You’ll get no complaints here.”
“Good.” Without another word, Jim climbed onto the bed, taking Daire’s cock into the heat of his mouth with zero hesitation. Daaaammmnnn. Had anything ever felt so good?
Hands braced on Daire’s thighs, Jim bobbed up and down, his facial scruff brushing against tender inner thighs on every downstroke.
Daire sank his fingers into the bed quilt, arching his back into the pleasure.
Jim sucked cock like he meant business. No preamble, simply action, the perfection nearly too much.
Daire moved his hands to Jim’s hair, fisting the soft waves, earning himself a moan.
So, the hot biker really did like rough.
It’d been a long time since Daire had brought a man to bed he didn’t have to worry about breaking.
Jim raised his head, lips glistening, and climbed upward to claim Daire’s mouth. Oh, the taste of himself and whiskey on that clever tongue. Jim rutted against Daire’s groin, and true to fantasy, taut muscles barely gave under the onslaught of Daire’s clenching fingers.
Jim ran the nails of his right hand through Daire’s chest hair, tweaking a nipple, smiling when Daire moaned and arched into the less-than-gentle touch.
Daire’s whole body cried out for that touch, to be possessed, to be owned, to stop thinking and simply feel.
Jim lowered his head, sucking a mark on Daire’s neck. Let him. Let the entire world see and know this man completely owned Daire—at least for tonight.
He braced for a mating bite. What the fuck? A mating bite? Daire would blame the errant thought on alcohol if he’d been capable of getting drunk on a couple of beers.
Jim grasped Daire’s wrists one at a time, raising them over his head toward the spindles on the headboard. “Hold tight. If you can’t, I’ll tie you.” The menace in his voice sent chills down Daire’s spine, tempting an act of defiance to get Jim to follow through on the threat.
Shivers ran over Daire’s skin, even in a suddenly scorching room. “Yes, sir.”
Jim put his face near Daire’s. “I like you calling me sir. Is everything I need in the bedside table?”
“Y…yes.” If they didn’t use those supplies soon, Daire might explode.
Some of Jim’s weight eased off.
Staring at the ceiling while holding the spindles, Daire couldn’t see the action, but he heard the familiar squeak of the drawer opening, a hand digging inside, then the pop of a bottle top.
Cool wetness swirled around his opening, teasing, withdrawing, sinking a little deeper.
Twice more, Jim added lube. Yeah, from what Daire felt of the meat the man packed, he’d need plenty of preparation.
Those questing fingers went deeper, forcefully plunging in and out, preparing the way for something larger, and soon, Daire hoped. He arched his back, chasing those fingers. “More,” he pleaded. Damn, but he needed more. Fast, hard, and possessive.
Jim chuckled. “Impatient?”
“Damned straight. You’ve seen yourself, right? I can’t wait to feel you in me.” Your body holding me down, the comfort of your weight….
Jim withdrew his fingers. The pop of the bottle top sounded again. “I can use a condom if you want. You’ve got plenty in the drawer, but we both know it isn’t necessary. Some dragons prefer condoms to help maintain emotional distance.”