Page 38 of The Banker and the Blue Collar Man

My forearm tightened with my intention to draw my hand away. Do up his jeans and belt the second he gave the word.

We could go back to kissing and courtship. Gentle beneath the umbrella of cottonwood branches, against the rough bark, traced dark with rivers of damp from the rain between dry ribs of pale gray.

“No,” he said, his breath hitching in his throat. Memories danced behind his eyes, and I wondered what they were. “No. It’s okay. Just?—”

Just what?

Like an echo in my head, I heard his unspoken request.Just be gentle with me.

If someone had hurt him in the past—I had a sudden, fierce desire to track that person down and do them harm. But right now, I had a request to fulfill.

“I will,” I said. I slipped off my flannel shirt, folded it, and dropped it on the ground in front of me. “I’ll kneel on this, okay? Then I won’t be in the dirt.”

I knelt down. There was a time for words and a time for shutting up. I shut up and pushed his t-shirt up and kissed his warm belly, traced that trail of hair with my tongue, tugged down the elastic of his white briefs—of course they were white—and eased the cloth away from the dark purple head of his cock.

I licked him. He jumped, his breath a shudder.

“Easy,” I said, wanting to soothe him. “I won’t hurt you.”

I flicked a glance up at him. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open. His back was against the rough bark of the cottonwood tree, and I returned to my task. Focused on his scent, the heat in his cock. The way my tongue slid, catching dry skin. Catching a taste of him, a slickness.

I licked his length. Shoved his briefs down further, tugged at his jeans with both hands, and used one to sweep my fingers in to circle his balls: hot, drawn up. Tense.

I was all in. He never moved. I wanted him to. To ease into the good feelings I could give him. To enjoy. If he weren’t, I would stop.

I did pause briefly, checking in. His strong hand came down, palm curling around the back of my neck. Fingers twining in my hair. Gently. Softly.

I took his cock in my mouth. Licking. Sucking. I settled my palm around the base of him, the back of my hand taking the pressure off the bottom of his open fly, the pull of elastic.

None of that should touch him. Only my mouth and the curl of my fingers. My other hand was at his waist, fingers spreadacross the warm skin and muscle of his back. I could feel him twitch, the angles of his body shifting as his hips came forward.

I loved on him. Sure swirls of my tongue around him. Steady strokes, sucks that drew my cheeks inward. Over and over I made those motions, swallowing my spit and his pre-cum, and inhaled and breathed in the moment, wanting to carry it with me always.

When he came, he made a far-off sound. High. Surprised. It went straight to my heart.

I sucked more gently, licked more slowly, and drew off with the taste of him on my tongue, the tail end of desire. I swallowed and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, then tucked him away and drew up the elastic to set it gently against his belly. There was a frail layer of sweat along the middle of his back, and I rose to snuggle into the curve of his arm.

“Was that too forward?” I asked, my voice a bit shaky as I buttoned up his jeans and re-buckled his belt.

“No,” he said. He hooked a finger beneath my chin and raised my head. “It was lovely.”

His next kiss made me weak at the knees. Truly it did. His arms came around me as though he’d just pulled me from deep water and wanted to make sure I was safe so he could kiss the breath out of me. Taste his taste on my tongue. Hug me so damn tightly I was sure my body was going to meld with his, and that would be fine by me.

When his hands cupped my face again, it was full-out raining. A gray curtain fell all around us, loud in the near silence of everything else. His hard breathing slowing down as mine slowed down.

The world came into focus. A faint ribbon of daylight lingered over the foothills traced with lilac and purple and the darkest blue. The rushing sound of the rain, the river banging against gravel and stone as the water level, perhaps, rose a little higher.

“Should we get back?” I asked. Though I didn’t want to.

He actually frowned at me and bent his head to nibble along my neck. “What about you?” he asked, low enough to send shivers up my spine.

“Not in the dirt, you said,” I said, getting a little sassy. “And now it’s turning to mud, so?—”

To my surprise and total astonishment, I heard a huff of a laugh in his throat. “I have a private bunkhouse,” he said.

It was on the tip of my tongue to keep joking, to step back from the serious tone in his voice. To say something likeBut there’s a bonfire! People at the bonfire will see us together!

But I didn’t say anything, because frankly, I couldn’t give a good goddamn if anyone saw. It was none of anyone’s damn business.