He wasn’t going anywhere until Glen Echo was done with him.
“Mm….” Glen licked around his bell and then pulled back again. “You taste sweet.”
“I’m not,” Cash told him, that naked feeling not going away.
Glen grinned at him up his body. “Or maybe you just don’t know your own taste.”
Cash imagined coming all over his fist and Glen’s hot eyes as he licked it off. He reached down to take himself in hand—and to get a handle on this situation—only to have Glen lace their fingers together and then release him, his arm falling harmlessly by his side.
He expected Glen to finish him right there—Cash was so primed right now, it wouldn’t have taken much to finish him off—but Glen surprised him, which served Cash right.
Thinking Glen Echo would be an easy lay whose touch would shuck off as effortlessly as the condom had been a big mistake.
Glen parted his thighs again and then parted his cheeks with two rough thumbs. “Mm…,” he mumbled, licking under Cash’s balls. “Someone taught you grooming—that was kind of them.”
Cash washed himself by habit, never sure where his day would take him, but he wasn’t going to say that now.
Glen had slid his tongue right over Cash’s hole, and he couldn’t say a goddamned thing.
More and more and again and again. The promised finger came into play and then stayed, stretching, fiddling, while Glen used his talented, fearless mouth to work over Cash’s cock. Cash was beyond words at this point—and a part of him, deep in his stomach, was afraid. This wasn’t even fucking. What would happen if Glen Echo took him, fucked him, hard, and Cash came until he passed out?
The thought of it, coupled with Glen’s teasing finger, made him undulate, moving his hips, chanting gibberish when he wanted to beg.
“What’s that?” Glen whispered, his breath teasing Cash’s cock. “You want more? You think you’re ready for fucking?”
“Ye-ye-yesss!” Cash bucked into his mouth, but Glen pulled back, leaving Cash’s cock wet and exposed.
“I’ll think about it,” Glen told him, sounding perfectly reasonable.
Then he added one more lubed finger and took Cash all the way to the back of his throat.
Cash came so hard he saw stars, and there was no body covering him. He was naked, having come undone in front of Glen Echo, while Glen hadn’t even lost his composure, much less his come.
“Please,” Cash whispered, and he should have been ashamed of the begging in his voice. Anything, anything not to feel like this. “Please come inside me.”
Glen shoved up alongside Cash, his beautiful heat warming Cash’s core. His face was glazed and his lips swollen, and he gave an evil smile before he took Cash’s mouth. Cash kissed him back, helpless as he’d never been, and wrapped himself around Glen Echo shamelessly. He rutted, cocking his hips, catching Glen’s head at his entrance, and Glen pulled back right before he would have thrust in.
“Kid, you are trying my patience. You don’t even know my status—and I sure don’t know yours.”
“Oh hell,” Cash muttered. “I… here.” He fumbled on the bed for a condom, feeling like he was sixteen all over again. “Negative. I’m negative. But here. Put this on.”
Glen complied, and he was as fast and as smooth as his lovemaking had promised so far. In seconds, he was lubed and positioned where Cash needed him most, pausing in the moonlight.
“Fuck me!” Cash demanded, feeling empty. So empty.
“I’m loving you, Cash Harper,” Glen vowed, but the expression on his face was a warrior’s expression, and he thrust in, conquering Cash completely.
This was more than fucking, bigger, and not just the size of Glen’s generous erection. Cash’s body was soaring at Glen’s pleasure, and every thrust, every stroke, brought him closer to heaven—and closer to pitching brutally to earth.
But Cash had asked him in, invited this man into his body, dared him even. He hadn’t known—hadn’t even dreamed—of how vulnerable his emotional barrier would be to a man who listened, a man who promised safety and pleasure.
To a man who delivered.
Time disappeared, and while he was probably begging, he couldn’t even imagine words. Glen’s speed picked up, the slapping of their flesh growing brutally loud, and Cash tilted his head back and cried out, orgasm taking over his body before he even knew he was close.
For a moment, he was in freefall, terrified of the crash back to his body, but it didn’t happen that way. He floated down instead, sweating, panting, Glen arching above him, his moan shaking both of them as he released, beautiful warrior’s face fierce in the throes of his own climax.
Cash cupped his neck, gentling him in his fierceness before he even knew what he was doing.
Glen settled on top of him, his weight grounding—reassuring even—and Cash struggled to return his breathing to normal.
Glen’s mouth claimed his without words, without promises, but it didn’t matter.
Cash could feel them, in his blood, in his bones, in his soul.
And that was just round one.
Toward the end, Cash was able to get in his blowjob, but it didn’t matter. The damage had been done to both of them. The claim of “just sex” had been annihilated by what had roared between them that night.
Two hours before the sun rose, he slid out from Glen’s possessive arm, his body aching from hard use.
His heart ached from regret, even after he dressed silently and slid out the door.
Research
Present
GLEN spent his entire shower trying to stop his traitorous heart from pounding.
God, Cash was here.
Five months of worry. Five months of yearning. Five months of tracking down every shred of information on Tranquilo Paz and Cash’s friend Brielle so Glen would be ready when Cash showed up.
Yeah, Glen had known he’d show up—it had been inevitable.
Like it had been inevitable that Glen tracked the little shit down after Cash disappeared from the hotel room in Las Varas.
Glen shook his head, unwilling to think about that—not right now. He had to look at Cash, had to act indifferent. He’d made promises to the kid. Yes, kid. Kids ran. Men stayed. But Glen had made promises, and he was damned if Cash’s habit of bolting like a bunny was going to keep Glen Goddamned Echo from fulfilling his part of the bargain.
He tilted his face into the spray and closed his eyes, forcing the memories back. That thing in the hotel room in Las Varas where Cash yielded so sweetly, looked at him with eyes that were full of wonder and fear—that didn’t happen.
That empty void in the pit of Glen’s stomach when he woke up in the morning, alone—he’d imagined that.
The money he’d forked over for information so he could chase the flea-bitten horse Cash had bought to get to Tranquilo Paz? Well, he’d call that money lost on a bad bet.
He swallowed through a tight throat. But Cash hadn’t been a bad bet. Not really. Yeah, sure, he’d bailed in the hospital—but he’d been there, talking to Glen the whole time when they’d been trapped under that fucking wall, hadn’t he?
He took a deep breath, then another, trying hard to pull himself out of that dark place. God—they’d been so close to getting Brielle out, in spite of Cash’s critical errors, and just when they thought they could call for backup….