Page 47 of Coyote

The sound ran through me. My cock filled under him, trapped in my jeans with the denim going damp at the head, and Coyote rolled his hips once to make sure I knew he felt it.

My hands tightened on him, but pain pulled at my side.

Coyote stopped. "Ribs?"

"I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me."

"It pulled. The stitches held."

He put one palm against my chest and pushed me carefully onto my back. Then he stripped off his shirt and dropped it beside my head. "Stay there."

"I can move."

"I know. Don't."

He took my hand and put it against his chest. His heart beat fast beneath my palm.

"Let me do the work," he said.

The words landed somewhere I'd been holding shut.

"All right."

Coyote undid my belt and opened my jeans one button at a time, his eyes on my face while he reached inside. His hand closed around my cock, and I came up off the bedroll before the pain caught me.

"Easy." His thumb pressed into my hipbone.

"I'm trying."

"You're terrible at it."

His thumb dragged over the wet head of my cock, and I groaned loud enough to come back off the rock. Coyote showed his teeth.

He worked my jeans down carefully, lifting one leg and then the other around the puncture in my thigh. His own clothes followed. When he settled back over me, bare skin slid against mine, and I forgot all about the pain.

He was warm everywhere, and hard against my stomach, small enough to fit beneath my hands and mean enough to make me ask before I moved them.

Coyote kissed my throat. "I want you inside me."

My cock jerked between us. "All of me?"

"All of you."

"Not if your body says no."

He lifted his head. "My body knows what it wants."

"Then you tell me what it says."

Coyote studied me for a moment. Then he reached past my shoulder and opened one of the tins near the bedroll. A small bottle of lube sat inside.

I looked at it. "You keep lube in a cave."

"I keep useful things."

He coated his fingers, but I caught his wrist before he could reach behind himself.