Chapter 22
Jackson
Ash looks irresistible. Incandescent.
The pale sliver of his stomach is like a beacon in the relative darkness of the hayloft, and I drag my tongue over warm skin and muscle to the hollow in the center that tastes of fall. Of caramel apples and smoke from a woodfire.
Ash groans as I lick the alcohol from his skin.
"Fuck, Jack."
"Mm."
He huffs a laugh, trying to pull his legs up. I keep my weight settled over him, smoothing my hand up his stomach to reveal more skin.
"That's… all you have to say?" he asks, his stomach rising and falling underneath my palms.
"I can think of better uses for my mouth than talking," I point out before making my way toward his nipple with my tongue.
Ash must agree because he grabs his jacket, fumbling to get the zipper open. His motions stutter when I pull his nipple into my mouth, but then he's moving again, tugging the jacket off his arm. He nearly elbows me in the face when he sets to work on his shirt. He gets it over his head and off the same arm, the other remaining clothed.
"Have you ever…had sex…in the hayloft before?" he asks me, sounding breathless.
I shake my head, brushing my mouth across his chest, knowing he likes the bristle of my beard. "Jerked off a few times when I was a teen, though."
His laughter is cut short when I suck on his other nipple, squeezing his pec to get better purchase. He groans and grinds up against me, seeking friction on his cock. I ease back, letting his nipple go with a pop and grabbing the whiskey cider.
"God, Jack. You're killing me."
I pour some of the liquid into his navel again, swooping down to lick it up before I climb up his body. The sound Ash makes when my lips meet his is hungry, near desperate. I grab his jaw, and the moment he opens his mouth, I let the whiskey fall from me to him.
He coughs, once, but then he's practically mauling me. A fist in my shirt keeps me close, a leg over mine urging me closer still. He tastes smokey and sweet as our tongues duel, as hay prickles at my hands as surely as the small of his back. I work my jacket off as Ash sucks on my lip, his cock rubbing against me through our jeans.
Ash doesn't protest when I haul his upper body into the air. I flatten my jacket down on the hay bale as best as I can and then press Ash back into it. His spine arches when I break from his mouth to work down his chest. I find sweet spots as I map his skin, places where the cider lingers. There's one on his pec. Another near the top of his belly button. Ash pants and wraps his fingers in my hair, all but pushing down on my head. I chuckle, making my way lower.
When I glance up, Ash has his other arm out of his jacket and shirt, leaving him bare from the waist up. He's looking back at me, his eyes dark and hooded. I flip the button on his jeans slowly, watching each flicker of expression that crosses his face.
"Jack," he whispers, a plea.
I rub my lips above the band of his underwear, bristling his skin lightly. He groans, spreading his legs wider in invitation. I make him wait. Just a little.
His head falls back as I place kisses above his briefs. Rub his stomach with my nose. Nip his hip bone. Finally, I ease down his zipper.
"You are the most…tortuous lover I've ever had," he says, breath puffing out of him as he gets up on his elbows for a better view.
I chuckle against his skin, kissing his cock over the fabric. "You like it," I mutter.
"Fuck it, I do," he says. "Just don't…push it. I need your lips on my cock, Jackson."
I skim said lips upwards and grab the band of his briefs with my teeth. Ash's breath catches, the sound hitching into a groan as I tug the material down.
"Fucking hell, Jack."
The moment his cock pops free, I let his briefs go and trail my lips up the sensitive skin of his shaft.
"You've wrecked me," he says hoarsely. "I hope you know that. Completely wrecked me for anyone else."
My chest balloons, so much pride and damn possessiveness hitting me with the force of a baler. I wrap my lips around his cockhead, pull his briefs out of the way, and sink down.
Ash grabs at my hair, his hips lifting off the hay. " Fu-u-uck , Jack. You're so damn good at that. So good."
I hum, slipping to the top of his dick as Ash mutters and tries to fuck back into my throat. I press his hips down with my arm, hand on his stomach as I bob my head again. He lets out a tortured moan, his cock flexing against my tongue. He tastes like man, and the tartness of the cider lingers on my tastebuds, making him all the more delicious.
There's something about bringing a man to his metaphorical knees with nothing but my mouth that has always appealed to me on a primal level. Knowing Ash is falling apart because of me? Because of how my lips feel wrapped around his cock? It's a heady fucking thing. It's base and instinctual, intimate in a way some acts simply aren't. I've never been good at faking my affections, but I don't even have to try with Ash. It's there in my eyes when I meet his gaze; I know it is. The same way his desperation is bared to me as he starts to lose control.
His lips are parted now, his hair a mess that casts shadows across his face. He looks like temptation personified, like the most dangerous thing I've ever set eyes on. He's beautiful, and I have no hope of resisting him. So when his breath stutters and his hips flex, I let go, letting him thrust up into my mouth.
"Jack," he gasps. He shoves his cock through my lips once, twice, and then floods my mouth.
His moan as his body locks in pleasure has my own cock throbbing. I cup myself, kneading my dick through my jeans as Ash spills again onto my tongue. His hand in my hair releases its pressure, his fingers soothing as his tension uncoils. I swallow the last of him down before letting his cock go, my breathing as labored as his.
"Are you…" Ash's words trail into a groan when he catches sight of my hand moving over my dick. He sits up, forcing me backwards, and reaches for me. "Fuck, let me touch you."
I let go, and Ash scoots up onto his knees in front of me, tugging at my jeans. The first touch of his hand on my cock, skin hot, grip proprietary, nearly has me buckling. He shuffles in close, gripping the back of my neck as he jerks me with a dry palm.
"Fuck, you're almost there, aren't you?" he whispers.
Unable to answer, I drop my forehead to his shoulder and suck in a breath. Ash's hand disappears for only a moment, and then it's back, cool and wet from his spit, the smooth glide making me buck into his grip.
"That's right, darlin'," he soothes, fingers dancing up into my hair, nails scratching. "You were so good to me. Come on my hand, and I'll show you how good my tongue can be for you."
With a hoarse shout, I release all over Ash's fist. He pumps me through it, the stickiness spreading, my cock throbbing in his grip as my lungs battle to catch air. Spots dance in my vision, the suddenness of my orgasm leaving me dizzy.
Ash kisses my ear, his hand slowing, the fingers on the back of my neck squeezing tight. He urges my head up with his grip.
"Lie back," he tells me.
I do as he says, lying down on our coats that are spread out over the hay. Ash waits until he's my sole focus, and then he brings his hand to his mouth. Slowly, he licks my cum from his skin, tongue curling around the digits one at a time. It's enough to send a shudder of renewed want down my spine. Once done, he bends down to lick along the length of my softening cock.
I mutter a few choice expletives as Ash's breath dances over my skin, his efforts to clean me soft yet thorough. He even snatches up a few drops that hit my shirt, bringing them to his mouth and smacking his lips when he's done.
"So sweet," he teases.
My laughter takes me by surprise. Ash, too, judging by his sudden grin.
"Liar," I mutter.
Ash chuckles, tugging the band of my underwear up over my cock. He covers himself, too, and then he falls beside me, rolling into the crook of my arm.
"Romp in the hay," he says lightly. "Ten out of ten. Who knew?"
I rub his bare arm, snorting. "All right?"
"Mhm," he hums, kissing my jaw. "Boneless, thanks to you."
We're both quiet for a moment, just our breaths and the faint sounds of the Montana wild a soundtrack for our night.
"Thanks, Jack," Ash finally says, his voice soft. "This was…perfect. A perfect end to the night."
I press a kiss to his hair, eyes slipping shut at how sincerely happy he sounds to be lying here inside a hayloft with me. At how easily he fits. Here. In Montana. On this ranch.
He fits . And it's getting hard to imagine him anywhere else.
Anywhere but here with me.
When Ash shivers, I reach around to grab his shirt. "Here," I say, giving him a nudge to get up.
Ash accepts the clothing, tugging it on as I reposition myself, sitting upright and leaning against the stacked hay bales behind us. Once done, Ash joins me, his back to my chest as we sit nestled together. He reaches for the still-open jug of cider and drags it close.
"Thirsty?" he asks.
"Not sure that'll help."
He chuckles, bringing the jug to his lips. He passes it back to me after taking a sip, his arm settling over my bent knee. The alcohol burns pleasantly on my tongue.
"My brothers and I used to play this game called ‘truth or lie,'" I tell him. Although the last time was probably a good half-decade ago.
"How's it go?" Ash asks.
"You tell a truth or a lie, and the other person has to guess which. You get it wrong, you drink."
"Ah," he says. "One of those games. All right. You go first."
I hum, thinking for a second. "When I was younger, I wanted to be a musician."
Ash twists around, looking at me for a moment. "Lie," he finally decides. "You never wanted to leave this place."
I huff. "Did try my hand at guitar in high school, though. Wasn't very good."
"Don't suppose you were trying to impress someone?" Ash asks with a knowing smile. He laughs at whatever he sees on my face.
"We've all had bad taste at one point or another," I mumble. In my case, my brief crush was on the mayor's son. A man who, to the best of my knowledge, is still quite straight. "Your turn."
Ash gives my leg a squeeze. "I once broke my femur in three places."
I cringe. "Lie. I hope."
"You're right. Haven't ever broken a bone. Have you?"
"Luckily, no. Which is a minor miracle, considering how rough and tumble us boys were growing up."
"God," Ash says, shaking his head. "I would have loved to see a small Jackson Darling running around the ranch. I bet you were ridiculously cute, all pouty and serious even then."
My heart kicks up an extra beat. "I'm not pouty ."
Ash laughs. "You're pouting right now."
I clear my expression, and he snorts. "I used to have an unhealthy obsession with Dolly Parton," I say, getting us back on track.
He looks me over carefully, his eyes widening. "Holy shit. Truth. Seriously?"
I nod, plucking a short piece of hay out of Ash's hair. "It was the music, believe it or not."
" That I believe," he says, laying his head back on my shoulder. "Considering you're a gay man."
I snort, looping an arm around his middle. His stomach is warm beneath my palm, even through his shirt. Ash's hair tickles my nose as I breathe, the earthy scent of hay mixing with him .
"I hate shellfish," he says quietly.
"Lie?"
"Nope. Truth. I never was a very good Mainer. Drink up."
I take a sip of the cider, fingers playing over Ash's shirt. He hums, shifting against me.
"My brother once bet me I couldn't eat ten hot dogs in ten minutes," I say. "I succeeded."
"Colton?" he asks.
"Mm."
Ash snorts. "Figures. And that's a lie. I don't think you made it."
"I sure did," I say proudly. "He never said I had to eat the buns."
Ash looks back at me, grinning. "Ah, so you're a cheater."
"Nope. Just good at outsmarting my brothers."
He huffs a laugh and curls his fingers in a gimme gesture. "Hand it over."
I bring the jug to my lips and take a sip.
"Fuck, Jack," Ash mutters, already knowing my intent.
Hand on his jaw, I angle his face my way. He accepts the drink from my mouth, his lips warm and tasting of apples. I let my other hand drift lower, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt as Ash's arm loops behind my head.
"You know, I have to be up in a couple hours to cook breakfast," he murmurs, letting out a breath when I shift my lips down to his neck. "We should probably…get back."
"Or," I propose, slipping my fingertips underneath the waistband of his briefs, "we could stay up here all night and take a nap after breakfast."
Ash inhales deeply when I wrap my fingers around his cock. "I think I like your ideas, Jack."
I manage a hum as Ash tugs my hair, demanding my mouth with gentle persistence. I give in easily, my hand gaining more room to maneuver as Ash pushes his still-open jeans down his hips. He hardens in my fist, soft sounds pouring from his lips as he starts to drive up into my hand.
"Fuck, you always make me so hot," he breathes.
"Truth," I mutter against his mouth.
Ash laughs, his hand in my hair almost stinging as his hips punch up off the ground. When he spins, I have no choice but to let go. "Need to feel you, Jack."
I don't object as Ash tugs down my boxer briefs. He tucks the band under my balls and picks up the jug of cider. With a smirk, he tips it over the head of my dick.
"Fuck," I gasp, the cool liquid sliding down my shaft and soaking into my underwear. "That's gonna be a mess."
"Worth it," Ash says, wrapping a hand around me. When his fist glides easily up and down, I have to agree.
"C'mere," I grunt, giving his arm a tug. "Ride my cock."
Ash stills. "Jack… I've put plenty of weird shit up my ass, but I'm not sure whiskey cider is a good replacement for lu—"
With a huff, I tug Ash forward and wrap a hand around our cocks.
"Oh," he breathes out, hands landing on my shoulders. "Oh, fuck. Yeah, I get it."
My head hits the hay bale behind me as Ash starts to move, grinding his cock against mine in the confines of my fist. For the briefest of moments, I remember my demonstration on frotting with Colton in the barn below, but the image of two carrots is quickly replaced by Ash as he drops his head back and moans. His hair is bright in the light of the moon, even as his face is obscured in shadows. It's all too easy to imagine him fucking himself on my dick with the way he's moving.
"Hell," I mutter. "You'd make a damn good cowboy."
He huffs an amused laugh before leaning forward to catch my lips. For minutes, there's nothing but this. Ash's mouth. His hands on my shoulders and in my hair. A tightness in my gut and in my chest, an ache that goes beyond the pleasure we're both so desperately chasing.
When Ash starts to come, I tighten my fist, jacking the both of us feverishly. He stutters a cry into my mouth, his body jerking, cum spilling over my hand before he collapses against my chest. I follow him not a moment later, adding to the mess on my shirt.
I run a hand through Ash's hair as his head rests on my shoulder. A few strands curl over his cheek, and I tuck them away behind his ear, that pressure in my chest back in full force.
There's one very loud truth making its presence known at the edge of my mind. It's been there all night. When Ash picked me up for our date. When he brought me more donuts to smash against the tree. When he refused to meet my gaze on the carriage ride, so certain our romantic evening had been ruined and not wanting me to see his disappointment. The look in his eye, both joy and desire, when I tackled him atop a hay bale. The way he kissed me so sweetly, tasting of autumn and home.
I never expected this man. Sure didn't see him coming over the horizon. I wasn't even looking. But now, I can't find it in me to look away.
I sift my fingers through Ash's hair again and whisper the truth that won't let go. "I think I'm falling for you."
Ash goes still, motionless apart from the rise and fall of his chest.
I tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. "Truth or lie?"
His breath hits my neck, his palm unmoving on my chest. For once, he's utterly silent.
"Truth or lie, Ash?"
He doesn't even have to lift his head and look at me to suss out the answer. "Truth."
"It scares the shit out of me," I admit.
Ash shifts back enough to catch my gaze, his hand moving to the side of my neck, anchoring there. He strokes over my pulse point slowly. "I know."
"I don't want either of us to get hurt."
"I know, Jack."
"You can't leave me."
I don't mean to say the words aloud, but I can't take them back. It's impossible now.
Ash lets out an almost wounded sound, his nose brushing mine as he speaks. "Why would I possibly leave my home, Jack? I'm not going anywhere. Truth or lie?"
I let out a breath, hands holding tightly to Ash's lower back. No, I wasn't prepared for this man. Not his storm-lined eyes. Not his goodness or his laugh. Not the sound of him singing in the kitchen or the smile he wears when it rains.
But he's here. He's here, and he says he's not going. So I speak the only word I can.
"Truth."
And I pray like hell I'm right.