Chapter 11
WOLFE
I’d fantasized about Trace so often, I was nearly convinced this was a dream. Any minute now, I would wake up alone in a cold van with nothing but my memories and a raging hard-on. It had happened too many times to count.
“Baby, take a breath.”
I blinked up at Trace. The afternoon sun streamed in through the van’s windows and picked out golden streaks in his wavy brown hair. I reached up to touch them, to run my hands through them in a way I’d never been allowed to do before.
“I’m breathing,” I said, but it sounded a little breathless now that I heard myself.
He looked down at me with this… fond expression on his face that made me feel cared for in a way I hadn’t for a very long time. A mix of the gentle affection like I got from my family, but also the clear interest and preference I’d felt from Jake last night.
I’d never had both of those things in one person before.
“You’re going to change your mind and leave,” I said. It wasn’t an accusation so much as a statement because I knew it was true. It was inevitable.
Trace brushed my hair back again. I tried not to lean into his touch too shamelessly, but I probably failed.
His eyes were piercing. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Talk,” I scoffed. “No. Fuck no.”
He started to move off me again, but I tightened my fingers on the muscles of his back, holding him in place. “Do not get off this bed,” I warned. “I don’t want to talk. We’ve been talking. Talking isn’t going to make this go away.”
I arched up into him while pulling him down, grinding my hardening cock into his hip.
His mouth curled up in a teasing smile. “And you need help making that go away?”
I ran my fingers through Trace’s hair again. It was a little overgrown and shaggy, which made him even sexier. His face was its usual combination of slightly wind- and sunburned, with visible laugh lines by his eyes that I wanted to stroke with my fingertips.
“I want help making it go away,” I corrected. “But I want you to promise me you won’t leave without telling me first. And that you won’t tell me I don’t know what I want because I’m a fucking child.”
His large hand smoothed down to cup my cheek. “I’m sorry, baby. You deserved better than that.”
“I did, and I do. I’m thirty, Trace. That may be hard for you to wrap your head around, but I’m not the seven-year-old kid you once knew.”
He made a face. “Can we not talk about seven-year-old Wolfe right now? That would help.”
I reached for his hand and pulled it down to press against the bulge in my pants. “Not a child.”
His eyes heated as his fingers tightened around my swelling cock. “No. Guess not. Fuck.”
I arched up into his hand, wishing I had the power to snap my fingers and make my own clothes disappear. “I want you to touch me. Suck me. Fuck me. Anything. Just… make me come. No strings, no promises. Just… let me have this.”
The sound of harsh breaths filled the van as the air warmed. The ceiling fan I’d turned on was pulling in air through a cracked-open window, but it wasn’t enough to douse the heat between our bodies in such a small space.
Trace jostled me around until my head was on the pillow and we were lying the right way around—heads on the driver’s side and feet on the passenger side.
“Talk to me,” he murmured, kissing under my chin and continuing to rub me over my clothes.
“Take your clothes off,” I said, suddenly feeling empowered. If I was only going to get this one hookup with Trace, I wanted to see all of him.
He sat up and began pulling off his shirt, giving me lifted eyebrows and a nod toward my own clothes. “You too.”
I scrambled out of my shirt and jeans, nearly knocking him into the side of the van in the process.
When the two of us were down to our underwear, and my eyes couldn’t stop hoovering him like a Roomba, he moved over me again and pinned me down with his hips.
His cock was hard and long against my lower belly, and my hands immediately went to his ass.
Trace’s ass.
In my hands.
I was back to thinking it was a dream. An incredibly detailed, realistic one.
That fear only lasted until I spotted a silver hair nestled among the darker brown on his chest. I moved a fingertip up to stroke it, and his nipples immediately pebbled.
“You’re not self-conscious,” I pointed out. It kind of surprised me. He was in his forties. Twice, I’d hooked up with men his age, and both times, the men had been reluctant to get naked with me, making comments about my relative youth and fitness.
He lifted a brow. “Should I be?”
I met his eyes. “Definitely not. You’re gorgeous. And fit. And your scars are hot as fuck.” I trailed a finger over the thin, silvery line on his side. “You know that, right?”
Trace leaned down and kissed me again, his lips turned up in a smile. “I certainly like hearing it. From you, especially. Feel free to repeat it as often as you like.”
He moved his kisses down my neck to my chest, then over, catching a nipple between his teeth. I sucked in a trembling breath, every inch of my body twanging with need and desperation I was trying to hold back.
Trace Bishop was nearly naked on top of me.
In my bed.
And, most fantastical of all, not telling me all the reasons why it was a bad idea… even though it definitely was.
“Want your mouth on me,” I said in a low voice, as if speaking too loudly would wake him up and scare him off. “Please.”
He moved down, leaving a wet trail of open-mouthed kisses along my chest and stomach. With each press of his lips on my skin, he glanced up at my face to check in with me. “Okay?”
I threaded my fingers through his wavy hair and tugged. “No. Not fast enough.”
He grinned. “Not what I meant.”
After that, he seemed to go even more slowly, dragging his tongue over my skin like a new kind of torture. By the time his fingertips dipped beneath the waist of my boxer briefs, I was breathing in shallow pants, underlaid with a soft whine.
“Fuck, look at you,” he whispered appreciatively when he’d pulled down the waistband to reveal my weeping cock. A sticky puddle of precum was caught in my happy trail, and Trace’s tongue came out to lap it up.
I groaned and squeezed my eyes closed, imprinting the vision in my brain to keep it forever. “Gonna kill me,” I breathed. “Please, please just suck my cock.”
He nosed at the crease of my thigh, sucking in air through his nose like he wanted to inhale the scent of me. Trace’s hot breath between my legs made my stomach tighten, and when he finally opened his mouth to suck one of my nuts onto his tongue, I nearly levitated off the bed.
I knew I made an embarrassing noise, but I didn’t care. Instead, I began letting out expletives like a long string of staccato notes. Allegro, then even faster—straight to prestissimo—with no transition.
The sound of Trace’s satisfied chuckle came in like a counterpoint, right before he took my cock into his hot, wet mouth.
And then my words were gone, replaced by one long, choking cry that wasn’t please or fuck or more because my mouth was suddenly too open and slack to form letter sounds.
I thought vaguely that I should have been doing something to please him at the same time.
Reaching for his cock or maybe turning myself around to attempt sixty-nine.
But there was no way I would have been able to pull it off.
Not when Trace Bishop was sucking me off and running strong, warm hands over every inch of my skin.
My orgasm hit hard, like Wile E. Coyote suddenly falling off a cliff and leaving nothing behind but a white cloud of vapor.
I was in free fall.
“That’s it. So good.” Trace’s voice crooned softly as his hand pulled the last few drops of my release out of me. “So fucking pretty laid out for me like this.”
I turned and arched into him, tucking my face into his neck to indulge in him a minute longer while the aftershocks of my orgasm still ran through my body. “Oh god, fuck. Fuck.”
The deep rumble of his approval vibrated through his chest and did crazy fucking things to me. I wasn’t super into a daddy/boy dynamic, but I could see the appeal. Pleasing Trace, bringing him pleasure of any kind, made me feel powerful.
“So beautiful, Wolfe.” He moved a hand up to smooth his thumb lightly over my cheek. “Pink and flushed for me. Fucking gorgeous.”
My brain came back online, clear enough for me to want to give him the same pleasure he’d given me. Impress him with the fact that I knew what I was doing in bed.
I kissed down his chest, making sure to press one over that silver thread, before running my tongue through the hair below his navel. His dick was fully hard, pressing the cotton of his briefs up into my chest and neck.
Trace cupped the back of my head. “You sure? Don’t have to do this.”
I huffed out a laugh instead of answering. As if putting my mouth on him, feeling the weight of his heavy cock and balls on my tongue, would be a chore. As if I hadn’t dreamed of this.
I pulled his underwear down and off, revealing a thick cock ruddy and damp at the tip. His balls were heavy, and I immediately wrapped them in a loose grip, enjoying the harsh intake of breath that made Trace’s chest lift.
“Fuck, Wolfe. Okay.”
I wanted to laugh. He sounded like he was bracing himself, like he needed to talk himself into accepting this from me.
We’re doing this. This is happening.
I nosed up his warm shaft and stuck my tongue out to taste the sticky fluid at his tip.
And maybe I made sure he could see it, that he knew exactly who was tonguing his slit.
When I glanced up through the hair in my face, his pupils had overtaken most of the color in his eyes, and red apples blazed high on his cheeks.
I kept eye contact as I pulled his cock back to press it onto my extended tongue, to lick up and down the underside of his dick without closing around it.
The tease punched a sound out of his chest, and one of his hands gripped the duvet by his hip. “Gonna fucking kill me,” he breathed. “Okay. Fuck.”