Chapter Twenty-One

Simon did his best to hold back . His body was vibrating, his cock throbbing. He wanted to be inside her. At this point, he didn't give a fuck which hole he filled. He just needed to be one with her.

"Simon … fuck me," Violet demanded, her voice pitched high. "Now!"

He fucked her with the toy while he positioned himself behind her. He made quick work of greasing his cock and adding a generous amount to her little rosebud, then used his finger to push the lubricant inside. As he guided his cock against her virgin hole, he pulled the fake cock from her pussy and dropped it on the bed.

Violet moaned.

"Relax."

She sighed, that tight ring of muscle loosening, allowing him to push the head of his dick inside. She tensed again, but he soothed her by kneading her hips, saying non-sensical things, holding her in place as he pushed in deeper.

"Fuck, Violet," he whispered. "Goddamn, you feel so good."

She mewled softly as he worked his cock in and out. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead from the strength it required to hold back. When she started to move, his shoulders relaxed. He hadn't realized how tense he was, how worried he was that he might hurt her.

"That's it, baby. Rock against me, Vi. Fuck my dick with your ass."

She lifted up, propping herself on one elbow as she began to push back against him. Forward, back, taking him deeper inside her each time. He could feel the subtle vibration of the toy as she played with her clit.

"Oh, fuck, baby. You're so tight. So damn hot."

"Simon…"

"Tease your clit with that toy."

"Please."

"Good girl."

"More," she whimpered.

Simon took over, holding her hips as he fucked her. He added more lubricant, then slow and steady gave way to fast and hard.

"Simon! I wanna come! Can I come?"

The fact that she was holding back because he told her to triggered something inside him.

"Oh, fuck, yes. Come for me," he bellowed, ramming into her, letting her asshole milk his cock as she shuddered beneath him. He came in a violent rush, waylaid by the overwhelming emotions she inspired in him.

He eased out of her slowly, then fell to the bed, spooning behind her as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight.

"That was a rush," she whispered.

Simon smiled. That was an understatement.

Hours later, Simon woke when something fuzzy brushed against his nose.

He opened his eyes to find a bushy-haired cat sitting on Violet's pillow, the tip of its tail wagging back and forth over his nose.

"Tell me she didn't run away," he groaned, rolling to his back.

Images from last night came rushing back.

Teasing Violet.

Those damn boots.

Fucking her ass.

The shower they took after.

Violet sitting on the kitchen counter, wearing only his shirt, while he made eggs in her kitchen.

By the time they gave in to sleep, he'd been exhausted and completely sated.

Not anymore.

He wanted her again.

"She didn't run," Violet said from somewhere.

Simon lifted his head, peering down his body to find her standing at the end of the bed. She once again had his shirt on, only a couple of the buttons hooked, one shoulder bared.

"Come on, Harry. Time for breakfast."

The cat evidently knew the meaning of the word because he hurried off the bed, thudding onto the floor. Simon couldn't see him, but he assumed he left when Violet closed the door.

"Good morning," she greeted from the end of the bed.

"It is that," he said when she freed one button, revealing one perfect breast. "Baby, bring that to my mouth."

She giggled, crawling onto the bed, moving over him, her breast swaying gently as she hovered.

"Feed it to me," he rasped. "Let me suck that pretty nipple."

When she was close enough, he took her into his mouth, flicking the little nub with his tongue. His hands joined the party because he couldn't not touch her. All that smooth, warm skin.

"That feels good," she whispered, freeing the other button. The shirt fell open, giving him access to both her breasts.

They were barely a handful but sheer perfection as far as he was concerned.

"Are you sore?"

"Not enough to forego an opportunity."

"What opportunity might…" The words died on his lips, replaced by a soft groan when she took him in hand, stroking his rock-hard erection as she guided his cock between her legs.

He sighed as she sank down on him, her smooth, slick walls stretching around him. He placed his palms on her thighs and watched as she began to ride his dick. Up, down, forward, back. She moved slowly, as though she wanted to savor the sensation.

"Oh, yeah. Fuck me, Vi."

He liked that she was still wearing his shirt. It was sexy as fuck to watch his woman ride his dick while wearing his shirt. He'd never seen anything quite so potent.

"Have you been awake long?" he asked.

She smiled, continuing to fuck him. "Half an hour, maybe."

"You could've woken me."

Her eyes glittered with amusement. "I was about to."

Simon reached between her legs and teased her clit with his thumb. "Because your greedy pussy needed my cock?"

"Yes."

"Take your time, baby. I live to let you use me."

·····

Archer stood beneath the spray, letting the heat of the water soothe the pain in his muscles.

As he'd promised Spencer when they got here last night, he had let the man take the bed while he spent the night on the floor. Based on the aches in his muscles and joints, it was clear he wasn't twenty-five anymore. The last place he needed to sleep was on the hard floor, yet he'd been doing it for the past week to accommodate other people.

Not that he'd questioned the idea last night. It had been an easy choice. Especially after what Spencer told him during their walk from the bar to the bed and breakfast.

Y'all have a thing before?

No. The bitch raped me.

Archer wasn't prone to rage, nor had he ever put his hands on anyone—male or female—without being provoked first, but as soon as Spencer's words registered, he'd had to talk himself off the ledge. For the next hour, he'd been tempted to find that bitch and put his hands around her neck and slowly squeeze the fucking life out of her.

He didn't know Spencer, didn't know the first thing about him aside from him having a nice smile, but those few words out of his mouth rang with a horrifying truth.

After his rage passed, Archer spent the night staring up at the ceiling, listening to Spencer snore, wondering if he should've said something. The problem was, he hadn't been sure what to say. He didn't know Spencer. Only from their brief interaction at the bookstore, and he could admit, that hadn't been nearly enough. For the past couple of days, he'd been hoping for another encounter. He'd thought there might be an opportunity last night when he caught sight of Spencer sitting at the bar. Unfortunately, he'd been trying to console Paige—her boyfriend of six months broke up with her (again)—or he would've approached Spencer sooner.

But then that woman showed up, and his opportunity disappeared. He'd planned to wait until he saw him again, but then he'd noticed the woman coming on a little too strong.

Then Spencer had blindsided him with that admission. What could he have said, though? Do you wanna talk about it? That seemed awfully invasive, considering their minimal acquaintance.

Sighing, Archer soaped up, rinsed off. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his hips. He wiped off the mirror, then brushed his teeth. He needed a shave, but he'd left his shaving kit in his bag, so it would have to wait until Spencer was out of the room.

Once done, he reached for his shorts only to realize he hadn't brought them in there. He glanced at the boxer briefs he'd discarded. Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to put them on.

Fuck.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? It wasn't like he could just walk in the room and say Oops. Sorry, I'm naked. I forgot my clothes. The guy would likely think Archer was going to assault him.

Shit.

Taking a deep breath, he took a seat on the closed toilet lid and decided to wait Spencer out.

·····

Was the guy ever going to come out of the bathroom?

Spencer had to take a piss, and he was hesitant to leave the room to find another bathroom. He'd never been inside the B and B, so he had no idea how the place was designed. Was there a community bathroom? Surely there was. But was it on the first floor or the second? He wasn't exactly eager to announce his presence. People already thought the worst of him; no doubt they would believe he'd seduced Archer last night.

He hadn't.

He'd wanted to, yeah, but he hadn't. And it was only partially because of his encounter with Jennifer. He'd long ago stopped obsessing about what that bitch did to him. He would never forget it and likely never not think about it from time to time, but he'd stopped obsessing about it years ago.

No, his reason was simple, really. Spencer had absolutely no practice when it came to seduction. He knew how to hit on a man. That was easy. It was what he was known for. He was also damn good at shutting things down, whether by pissing off his potential partner to ensure nothing happened or coming up with an out that usually involved needing to take care of business.

So, yeah, he'd let the opportunity pass him by last night. He'd deemed Archer a good guy and decided not to be a total jackass.

Now, he needed to get on with his day. In order to do that, he needed to take a leak. Problem was, thirty minutes had passed since the water shut off, but Archer hadn't come out. If the man stayed in there too much longer, Spencer was going to have to do something drastic.

Or he could just knock on the door. Ask to use it.

His bladder was beginning to go into crisis, so he shot to his feet and marched over to the door.

He knocked lightly. "Hey, man. I … uh…"

The door opened, and Spencer came face to chest with Archer Halligan. A shirtless Archer Halligan.

Jesus, God. All. That. Muscle.

Ah, damn. The man smelled fucking amazing.

"Mind if I…" He gestured toward the bathroom.

"Go on," Archer said, trading places.

Had Spencer not been seconds from pissing himself, he would've taken the opportunity to ogle the impressive body he only got a glimpse of. Instead, he kicked the door closed and beelined for the toilet.

Five minutes later, after he'd washed his hands, finger-brushed his teeth, and splashed water on his face, he came out to find Archer dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, sitting on the bed while he put on sneakers.

"I didn't mean to kick you outta there," Spencer told him.

Archer looked up. "I was done."

"And what? You just thought you'd hide out until I left?"

"It was a thought."

Well, that told him pretty much everything he needed to know.

"But I wasn't hidin'," Archer added. "I was tryin'—"

Spencer waited for him to finish that sentence, but he didn't. "Tryin' to what?"

"Be respectful."

"Okay, then." Spencer shook his head, not sure what to think of the guy. "I guess that's my cue."

He was fully dressed, thank God, so all he had to do was put on his shoes, which he did while standing up.

"Thanks for … um … for lettin' me crash."

"Anytime."

Spencer frowned. "Really? Because you sure seem like you're freaked out by my presence."

"Not freaked out." His tone matched his words, so that was a good thing.

"Is it because of what I told you?" Spencer asked, praying that Archer would look at him confused, not knowing what he was talking about. He still wasn't positive he'd blurted out the words, but he had to think he did since the giant in the room looked like he wanted to wrap him in cotton and put him in a drawer for safekeeping.

"That you were raped?"

Well, there was his answer.

"Yeah," Spencer countered.

"You can say it."

Spencer frowned. "I'm not scared of the word."

"No?"

Defensive and well on his way to getting pissed, he said, "No. I just don't think it's anyone's business."

Archer nodded as he stood. "Yet, you made it my business."

"That wasn't my intention," he said as he found himself looking up at the man, something that didn't happen often. "It was ten years ago. I've made my peace with it." Mostly.

Archer took a step toward him.

Spencer held his ground. "I'm not scared of you if that's what you're thinkin'."

And he wasn't. Not even a little. Turned on? Yeah. Like a fucking faucet. But not scared.

Another few inches were eliminated when Archer moved again.

Spencer didn't move, taking a deep breath.

Archer stopped when they were almost toe-to-toe. "Do you know what I wanted to do last night when I saw you?"

"Smack that bitch around? Because I did." It was a joke because he was a bit nervous. Not from fear but from this insane attraction he had to this man.

"That came after."

Spencer held his stare and felt as though those turquoise eyes were piercing straight through him. "What came before?"

Suddenly, Archer's thumb was brushing across his bottom lip. "I wanted to feel these lips."

Swallowing was a problem since he was seconds from detonating.

Archer leaned in. "On my mouth."

Spencer managed a sip of air.

"On my skin."

His lungs didn't really care about air. It wasn't important.

"On my cock."

A groan escaped. "Why didn't you?"

"Because the games I play don't involve alcohol."

Spencer wanted to ask him what games he was referring to, but he couldn't. The words wouldn't form because Archer chose to lean in at that moment, their lips almost touching.

He waited patiently, silently willing Archer to kiss him. Just when he thought he would, a knock sounded at the door.

"Hey, Arch! Get your giant ass out here. We've got shit to do."

Archer pulled back and smiled. "I'm bein' summoned."

"I can see that."

"I guess I'll see you around, Spencer."

He nodded, unable to do anything else.

"Just flip the lock when you leave," Archer said as he opened the door. "I'll be in town for a few more days. You know where to find me."

Another nod.

It wasn't until Archer was out the door that Spencer could inhale properly. As he did, he took a seat on the edge of the bed and realized, for the first time in ten fucking years, he was ready for what came after the flirting.