14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Tyler

I knew how to suck a dick. I'd done it a lot in prison—well, maybe not a lot. That made me sound like a whore, which I didn't really believe myself to be. But I also wouldn't label myself a victim. It was a survival method, and I did. Take the win!

KC taught me a few things while I shared a cell with him. I wouldn't say he was a mentor or anything, but he taught me how to maneuver tough situations when you weren't sure of the outcome. He'd also taught me to suck a dick and not puke because when he was about to come, he'd thrust harder into my mouth and make me gag. If I didn't keep going, he'd smack me. If I did and he climaxed, he'd shove me away hard so that I landed on my ass before he climbed into the bottom bunk and turned his back to me. His snores would fill the cell block within seconds.

Based on how Mosby had sucked me, I knew he wasn't selfish. He was sweet and tender, and I wanted to give him my best.

I slowly pushed down on him until the head of his cock hit the back of my throat, and then farther until the head was beyond my gag reflex. I retreated and did it again. And again. And again.

I was getting into a good rhythm but didn't expect to feel something wet and warm against my hole. I stalled with Mosby's dick in my throat, and when I felt the tickling of my rim again, I gagged. It was really embarrassing.

Mosby sat up and pulled me to sit beside him. "I'm sorry I didn't check with you first. That was inconsiderate. I'm guessing you've never had that happen before?"

There I sat with my erection slowly deflating and my briefs half-on, half-off. I wanted to sink into the mattress. "I haven't experienced a lot of things, but I'm sorry I gagged. I didn't want to stop. I would have pushed through it, but I wanted to feel what you were doing without distraction."

"Hands and knees. I'll make sure you enjoy it, Bunny, without distractions." As guilty as I felt about not finishing the blowjob, I really wanted him to do what he'd been doing.

Mosby winked and patted my leg, both of us moving around on the mattress until I was on my hands and knees, and he was behind me. He pushed my briefs farther down, and his tongue slowly circled my entrance.

"Oh god." My voice sounded choked, but the sensations racing through my body as he ate my ass were mind-numbingly perfect.

My dick sprang to life so fast I was a little lightheaded for a moment. I lost myself in the feel of his tongue breaching me, and colors swirled in front of my eyes.

A slick finger pushed inside my ass as Mosby slid under me, his head coming between my thighs as he sucked my hard-on into his mouth. And, just like that, I shot off in ten seconds. The first time I was touched in such a beautiful way where all the attention was on me, I shot off like the amateur I was.

Mosby slid through my open legs and moved to sit against the headboard, pulling me onto him and kissing me. He still had my cum in his mouth, and he shared it with me, which was the sexiest thing I'd ever done in my life.

"See. I told you that you tasted sweet. Are you okay? Was that okay?" His expression was worried.

"What you did was something I never expected would happen to me. It was beautiful, Mosby. Thank you." He pulled my briefs off and moved me on top of him as he rested on the pillows.

His hard cock was against my deflated one, and I glanced up. "I can take care of that for you."

Mosby smirked. "Stay right where you are. Holding you in my arms is more important than a hard-on. You deserve to be treated like the treasure I believe you to be. If you'll let me."

Wow!

Saturday afternoon, I closed the salon at two after Mom finished her noon appointment. After I ensured everything was ready for Monday morning, I locked up and went upstairs.

I took a quick shower and styled my hair, and for the first time in five years, I stared at my clean face. Camila had been kind enough to make a store run for me on her way to the salon to pick up a few things. I stared at the small boxes in front of me, wondering if I was making a mistake.

Earlier that morning, Mosby had gone home—after giving me a searing kiss and a pat on my bare ass as I stood by the door with him. "I can't wait to see you tonight, my beautiful Bunny." I'd been giddy the whole time I worked, and after I locked up, I'd run up the back stairs nearly wiping out twice.

I stared into the mirror after putting on the pore-reducing primer Camila had brought me—which was much more expensive than the brand I'd requested. "Are you sure you want to show this side of yourself to Mosby? What if he doesn't like the makeup?"

The unopened compacts, pencils, and jars spread out on the counter were the same products I'd used years ago in high school to hide from the world because I didn't feel good enough as myself. I had acne and a scrawny body, and I was gay. People were quite judgmental of me, with my mother being the only person who seemed to accept me back then.

The makeup gave me self-confidence and a fuck-you attitude. If people were going to talk about me behind my back, I wanted it to be because my mascara was smeared or because my perfect lip-liner was smudged. I didn't want it to be because my skin wasn't perfect and my eyes were dull and lifeless without shadow and liner.

Now, here I was at twenty-three, fearing judgment by a man I adored because I enjoyed wearing makeup and standing out in a crowd. Was I willing to risk Mosby walking away from me because I was the guy who wore makeup, or would he think I looked sexy?

"No time like now to find out." I picked up the concealer and began the ritual, humming along with the playlist I was listening to as I shaped my brows, highlighted my cheeks, and curled my lashes.

I skipped the foundation I used to wear because I'd finally started getting hair on my face. I let it cover my jawline because of the acne scarring, and I had a light mustache. I thought it looked good, and I liked the sheer highlighter and soft blush. A bit of eyeliner for definition and a pop of color on my lips, and I was ready to go.

Once I was satisfied, I started to flip off the light, but then a flash of fear shot through me, and I grabbed two makeup remover towelette packets and slid them into my pocket, just in case.

Wallet in my back pocket and keys in hand, I headed to my mom's. It was a nice afternoon with lots of flowering trees coming to life. It was just as I used to fantasize about when I was locked up. I was so grateful to be experiencing it in person.

I went around to the back door, seeing Mom had already pulled out the charcoal grill from the garage. We were making surf and turf with mushroom risotto. It dawned on me that I hadn't asked if Mosby had any food allergies, so I pulled out my phone.

Hello! I forgot to ask if you had any food allergies I should know about. I'm looking forward to seeing you.

I started to type my name but thought better and signed the message with Bunny. It was cute, and I'd never had a nickname that wasn't degrading, so I was going to embrace it.

"Mom!" I went in through the back door and stepped into the kitchen to see something I'd never seen before…my mother in the arms of a tall brown-haired man holding a cowboy hat in one hand and my mother's ass in the other.

"Oh!" I quickly backed out of the kitchen and wondered what the hell was going on. A moment later, my mother stepped out, her face flushed and her eyes glazed. I chose to ignore that .

"I'm sorry, Ty. Beau surprised me. He was supposed to be moving cattle this weekend, but they decided to do it on Thursday and yesterday instead. He, uh, he's staying at the Foggy Basin Inn, so I invited him over for dinner. Come inside and meet him. He's a really nice man. I want you to be respectful to him."

My brain couldn't let go of the man's large paw on my mother's ass. I'd already formed an opinion of what type of guy he was— handsy .

I walked inside to see he'd hung his ten-gallon hat on the back of one of the kitchen chairs as if it was the most natural thing to do. He was leaning on the counter with his ankles and arms crossed. He stared at me, and my sassy high school queen came bounding forward.

I stuck out my hand, wishing I'd had time to paint my nails so I could freak out the judgmental prick. "Hi there. I'm Tyler Rockwell, Marlena's son."

The man stood on both feet as he stared at my mom like the cat had his tongue. "Tyler, this is Beau Fletcher. He's an old friend of mine."

I chuckled. "Understatement, Mom."

I stared at the man the same way he'd stared at me. Finally, he took my hand and gave me a nervous grin. "Tyler, it's nice to meet you, son. I've heard a lot about you. "

"Uh-huh. I bet. So, uh, Mom said she invited you for dinner. I should tell you we're celebrating the birthday of the man I'm seeing." His eyes got big. "Ah, did Marlena neglect to mention I'm gay?"

"Tyler Alan Rockwell! Beau knows you're gay. Don't be so salty."

Full named. I was probably in a lot of trouble after Beau Fletcher returned to whatever bigoted rock he'd crawled out from under, but I didn't care. Don't come on my turf and judge me.

"I, uh, I just rolled into town, so I'm going to go to the motel and clean up. What time should I come back, Marlie?"

Ah, so he had a nickname for my mother. She giggled like a teenager. I rolled my eyes.

"We're planning to eat at five-thirty." I jutted my chest out defiantly. How dare he show up and ruin my plans.

"I'll walk you out, Beau, while Tyler looks for where he left his manners." Okay, that stung.

I opened the fridge and snagged the pitcher of lemonade, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet and filling both with ice. I poured the lemonade I knew Mom had made that morning and waited for her to come back.

She returned a minute later, looking as if she'd been put under a spell. Her blouse had been retucked, thankfully, but I knew if I'd been five-minutes later, the man would have had her naked on the kitchen table.

I glanced at the table and cringed, going to the hall closet to get the disinfectant to clean it since I had no idea if they'd already done the nasty before I arrived. Maybe he was leaving after they'd done the deed? I saturated the table and grabbed the roll of paper towels to dry it.

"What the hell's gotten into you, Tyler?" My mother never cursed, so I was caught a bit off-guard.

"This dinner is very important to me. I wanted you to get to know Leslie, and I thought a birthday celebration might be a nice thing to do for him. His parents died when he was twenty, and he usually doesn't celebrate his birthday. He has a cabin up the mountain that's been in his family for years. He's an artist and doesn't have a family to celebrate him. I wanted us to be that for him."

That was a lot more than I'd planned to share with her before talking to Mosby about what he wanted her to know, but I was hoping maybe she'd have mercy on me and uninvite her friend. Based on the look in her eyes, that wasn't going to happen.

"How old is that guy?" As I'd stared at him, I noticed his hair was grayer than I'd first thought when he was bent over my mother.

"Beau is fifty-eight. I met him years ago, and we lost touch, but he's had some changes in his life, and he called me before you were released. I made him wait to meet you until now. I expect you to show Beau the same amount of respect you want me to show Leslie."

Damn, that was dirty pool.