02-Let It Ride (12 page)

“I’ve wanted to do that longer than I care to admit,” Eric said, and then followed the confession with a kiss before Bridge could speak. But who really cared about words just then, because when Eric rolled his hips forward, hard erection pressing into Bridge’s navel, he couldn’t remember ever feeling anything so amazing.

And they were both still fully clothed.

Which brought to mind his interrupted mission of unwrapping Eric like a Christmas present. “Clothes.” He pushed Eric’s jacket off his shoulders, but it got caught at the man’s wrists, earning a grunt of frustration from Bridge. “They gotta go. All of ’em.”

“We’ve got all night, cowboy.” Eric chuckled and sat up, stripped himself of the jacket, and tossed it on the floor.

“And we best get to making the most of it,” Bridge said. He didn’t know if there would be another night after this, if Eric would wake up in the morning and decide screwing with their friendship really was a bad idea. That wasn’t going to happen if he could help it, though. He couldn’t predict the future, but right now, this very moment, he knew he wouldn’t accept anything less than a life with Eric Palmer.

Eric smiled and began unbuttoning his shirt, but Bridge reached out and stilled his hands. “Let me,” he said, his voice a breathy whisper.

Bridge watched his fingers as they worked, feeling the weight of Eric’s stare on him, the press of Eric’s body in his lap, the burning caress of Eric’s hands where they rested on his torso, and a thrill of excitement trembled through him. Eric leaned down and kissed his forehead, above his brow, his nose.

Fuck, he couldn’t ever remember feeling this high, this alive, or so completely aroused. Not with the one man he’d been with before, not with any of the women he’d been with, but Eric . . . Eric was in a whole other zip code of desire and want. He was like Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, and a birthday all in one. Better even. Yes, definitely better. By far.

Not because anyone before had been bad or lacking, but the fact that it was Eric made every contact and look somehow . . . more.

He slipped the last button through its hole and then slowly parted Eric’s shirt to reveal a lightly furred chest, defined abs, and honey-colored skin that looked like it might taste just as sweet. His mouth watered at the sight, and he licked his lips.

“Touch me,” Eric whispered.

Bridge looked up to meet Eric’s eyes. They were dark, glittering, devouring him without even touching him, and fuck, he couldn’t stop trembling. He flattened his hands over soft skin and hard pectorals and slid upward, nudging the shirt off Eric’s shoulders, following it down impressive biceps until the shirt caught at bent elbows, but Eric didn’t move. He sat still, watching, letting Bridge explore at will.

He brought his hands back to Eric’s stomach, let his fingers ride the small roller coaster rise and fall of firm muscle and solid rib, and then circled dusky, peaked nipples. He rolled them between his forefingers and thumbs, and a groan spilled from Eric, and his eyelids fluttered; Bridge couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face. “Found a spot, did I?”

Eric chuckled. “Just you wait.” He slid his arms the rest of the way out of his shirt, and with the most seductive grin Bridge had ever been on the receiving end of, Eric said, “My turn.”

Eric reached out and began working the buttons of Bridge’s shirt, and Bridge let his hands slide over the heated skin of Eric’s sides to grip the dense muscles of his back, marveling at the feel of so much power under his palms, wanting to experience the full force of that power, to know what it would be like to have it unleashed on him.

And then skillful hands were on his skin, palms flat, moving over the surface of his chest, his abs, his navel, and their heat sent his skin ablaze, leaving an inferno in their wake that melted his bones. His breath came faster, shallow and raspy, and his heart pounded a rapid beat against his rib cage. And they still had their damn pants on. He was about to make his dismay known when the hot cavern of Eric’s mouth covered one of his nipples, and
pop
, there went all his mental capacity. Sharp jolts of electricity blasted outward, inward, everywhere, and he arched into the kiss, the bite. Whatever, just so long as Eric didn’t stop. “Holy Jesus!”

No one ever had done that to him before. If he’d known what a sensitive erotic spot it was, he’d have begged for it every chance he got. And now that he knew, he’d beg Eric for it, shamelessly and often.

Eric lifted himself and slanted another knock-you-on-your-ass flirtatious grin at him. “We haven’t even started, cowboy.”

“Oh good God.” Bridge rocked his hips in search of friction, release from the confines of his jeans, anything to get closer, faster. “I’m not going to survive.”

Eric laughed and pinched the sensitive nipple he’d been sucking on, sending another shock straight into Bridge’s groin, like the two were somehow connected. “I think you will, and you’ll beg for more.”

Bridge moaned, dug his fingers into the flesh of Eric’s back, and stared up into those captivating violet eyes, casting a plea with his own. “I’m begging right now.”

“What do you want?”

“Fuck, I love your accent,” Bridge said, voice reedy.

The light in Eric’s eyes flickered again, but then there was nothing in them aside from lust and desire. That seductive grin grew wider, topped off by a voice dripping in sex. “What do you want?”

Bridge panted like a damned dog, but he couldn’t care less. All he wanted was whatever Eric was willing to give him. “More.”

“More what?”

“More everything! Just don’t stop.”

Bridge made to sit up, take over, but Eric held him down with a hand planted in the middle of his chest, and again, his breath caught with that unexpected thrill of a simple display of power. All the women he’d dated over the years had been athletic, strong—physically and mentally—and could throw down with the best of them, but not one had ever used that in bed. He didn’t know if it was the new power dynamic Eric introduced, or Eric himself, but now that Bridge had gotten a little taste, he knew he wanted more.

Eric cocked his head slightly, grinning, like he knew what Bridge was thinking. He leaned down and peppered his lips with quick, playful kisses, until Bridge opened his mouth and Eric dove in. Jesus, the way the man kissed, like he wanted everything, couldn’t get enough, demanding as much as he gave. Bridge liked kissing—a lot—but he couldn’t put his finger on why kissing Eric was so much different. He’d never actually kissed the guy he’d fooled around with in college, so Eric was his first, but that wasn’t it. There was something more there, something deeper that made every kiss he’d experienced before pale in comparison. Maybe it was the way they fit or how incredible Eric tasted. More likely it was Eric. Whatever it was, it was rapidly becoming his new favorite thing.

Eric broke the kiss, leaving Bridge gasping, and moved down Bridge’s body, kissing and licking a burning trail down his torso, Eric’s talented tongue circling around his belly button and dipping inside while agile hands deftly popped the buttons of his jeans.
Yes, yes, yes.
One of those hot, callused hands slipped beneath the layers of denim and cotton and cupped his balls, pressed against the base of his cock, and slowly, maddeningly followed the length to its tip. Then Eric mouthed him through his underwear, and he damn near jolted right off the bed—he’d thought the shock of his nipples being sucked was electric?
Holy shit and damn.
There were no words for this, and there was still that thin barrier of cotton between them.

Eric tugged at the waist of his jeans. “Up.” One word but his voice cracked and sounded like it had been dragged over sharp gravel.

Bridge reacted without thought, immediately lifting his hips so Eric could pull his jeans and boxers off. They got caught on his boots, but Eric didn’t bother to remove them, just left him shackled around the ankles and crawled back up Bridge’s body. A wicked grin and a waggle of eyebrows was the only warning he got before Eric dipped down, swallowing Bridge’s cock in one smooth motion. The head nudged the back of Eric’s throat when Eric’s nose disappeared in the thatch of light-brown pubic hair at the base of Bridge’s dick, and a sharp chin pressed against his balls.

“Holy . . . mother . . .” His vocabulary vanished. His eyes tried to roll into the back of his head, but he fought them with everything he had. He did not want to miss a single second of watching Eric go down on him. He wanted to brand every second of it into his memory permanently. Forever. Until the end of time and then some, for good measure.

Eric slid to the tip, his cheeks hollowing as he suctioned his way up. He rolled his tongue around the head and dipped into the slit, and Bridge didn’t think he could last a second longer even as he struggled to last as long as possible. His eyes squeezed shut against his control, and his head fell back. He may have shouted something. He didn’t know. Didn’t care. He just didn’t want Eric to stop whatever he was doing, but at the same time, his balls where beginning to fill and tighten, and he knew he was rapidly approaching the point of no return.

“So. Fucking. Close,” he panted.

Eric bobbed on his dick and the camper shook and clothing rustled and the teeth of a zipper echoed in the small space. Bridge snapped his eyes open, looked down, and saw Eric take himself in hand and begin to stroke in time to his bobbing.

“Don’t come yet,” Bridge said, breathless.

Eric looked up at him and fuck, how many times was he going to discover something hotter than the last thing he’d thought was the hottest thing he’d ever seen? But this, Eric staring at him with those intense, glittering violet eyes, pink lips stretched around his dick, a hand wrapped around his own as he jacked himself . . . Bridge added that image to the permanent archives in his mental museum.

“I wanna see you come.”

Eric smiled around the column of flesh in his mouth, lowered his eyes, and let go of his erection to wrap his hand around the base of Bridge’s cock. With invigorated determination, he worked Bridge until his entire world narrowed to the point where they met, Eric’s mouth and hand around his cock—firm, tantalizing, perfect. That was the whole universe. He didn’t need anything else. Not a single thing. Not oxygen, not water. Only Eric and his magic hands and mouth and tongue. The orgasm exploded so suddenly, with so much force, it shattered even the tiniest shred of lingering doubt in his mind that this could ever be just friends with benefits. This was it. Eric was it. He knew it like he knew he needed to breathe. He shouted out his ecstasy with such sheer abandon that he thought for sure the entire rodeo grounds would hear.

When he was finally able to piece two coherent thoughts together, he opened his eyes to see Eric kneeling above him: his hand a blur as it flew up and down his cock, his chest and neck flushed, and his mouth open. Completely lost in his own impending orgasm. And then he groaned and grunted and jerked thick ropes of cum onto Bridge’s stomach. Hot whips of liquid hit his skin.

Eric’s stroking slowed, and his chest rose and fell in rapid succession, his breathing harsh and shallow. He looked down at Bridge, a lazy, sated smile on his swollen, red lips.

“That was by far the hottest fucking thing I have ever seen,” Bridge said, still marveling at the beauty of it.

Eric dragged his fingers through the sticky mess, making little circles and figure eights in it, then brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them inside.

Bridge’s breath caught, and his heart skipped a beat. “Oh God. I take it back.
That’s
the hottest thing by far. Ever.”

Eric smiled, a hint of mischievousness in the curve of his mouth, and he repeated the slow drag through the cooling puddle. But this time, he brought his fingers to Bridge’s mouth. Bridge opened, sucked them inside, and the flavor of Eric—sharp, bitter but somehow sweet, too—blasted over his tongue, and he groaned, closing his eyes. Best taste in the world.

“Now that,” Eric said, his accent more pronounced, “is fucking hot.” He traced Bridge’s lower lip, gaze following his finger, and then he looked up and winked. “By far.”

Bridge slid a hand around the back of Eric’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. It was slow and sensual and content and just fucking perfect in every way. Eric lowered himself until he was flush against Bridge, and the burning heat of skin on skin eased Bridge in a way he never thought was possible. The kiss was too good to interrupt for something as mundane as cleaning up or taking off the rest of their clothes.

But Eric pulled back and smiled. “As much as I could fall asleep right now, I think we’d be more comfortable not shackled by our pants and half-hanging off the side of the bed.”

Bridge sighed, feigning annoyance. “So high maintenance.”

A few moments later, they were stretched out under the covers, Bridge’s arm wrapped around Eric’s shoulders, Eric’s head on his chest and an arm draped across his stomach.

“You’re right,” Bridge said.

“About?”

“That was the best blowjob of my life. By far.”

Eric laughed, and the sound, soft and soothing, sent Bridge into peaceful slumber with a smile on his face.