Page 23 of The Highwaymen

He gave my crotch a squeeze before gracefully exiting the cab. I adjusted myself, trying to ignore the rush of heat to my groin. The little tease knew just how to push my buttons. I'd deal with him later, though.

Gravel crunched under my boots as I climbed down from the rig. The night air was cool and thick with the stench of rust and decay.

A shadowy figure stepped out from behind a stack of crushed cars. “Stu, that you?” a deep voice called out.

I'd know that voice anywhere. “Deacon, you son of a bitch,” I chuckled as he approached and we clasped hands. “Been a while.”

Deacon looked much the same as I remembered - a burly bear of a man with close-cropped salt and pepper hair and a permanent five o'clock shadow. His meaty paw engulfed mine. That hand had roamed every inch of my body on multiple occasions, gripping and stroking and probing. My cock twitched at the memory of our sweat-slick skin sliding together while his wife watched.

“Too long,” Deacon agreed, eyes twinkling with mischief and ancient lust. His appreciative gaze raked over me. “Still a big bastard, I see.”

“You know it. And you're still an ugly motherfucker,” I shot back with a grin.

We both laughed, the easy camaraderie of men who'd faced shit together flowing between us. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jamie slide closer, a scowl on his pretty face. He looked Deacon up and down appraisingly, a flash of jealousy tightening his features.

“Who's your friend?” Jamie asked, an edge to his voice as he slung an arm over my shoulder in a possessive gesture.

I gave Jamie a sideways glance, noting the tension in his body pressed against mine. “This here's Deacon. An old... acquaintance.” I let the word hang suggestively in the air.

Something dangerous flickered in Jamie's eyes before his face smoothed into a coy smile. “I’m Jamie. It’s a pleasure.” He held out a delicate hand, wrist angled just so.

Deacon raised an eyebrow but took Jamie's hand, swallowing it in his rough grip. “Pleasure's all mine, sweetheart.” His tone dripped with equal parts amusement and heat.

When Deacon released him, Jamie trailed that same hand down my chest, nimble fingers toying with my belt buckle. “You didn't mention we'd have company tonight, Stu. Thought it was gonna be just the two of us...” He gazed up at me through thick lashes, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Christ, the kid was asking for it. I fought the urge to throw him over the nearest hood and fuck that brattiness right out of him. Later. Business first.

Deacon watched our exchange with a knowing smirk. “Seem to recall you liking a bit of company back in the day, Stu. Gotten boring in your old age?”

“Watch it,” I growled, no real menace behind it. “I can still snap you like a twig.”

His laughter boomed through the junkyard.

Jamie dug his nails into my arm, a silent demand for attention. I turned to him, drinking in the sight of his lithe body leaning against me, all coiled energy waiting to strike.

I grabbed his wrist. “Behave,” I warned under my breath.

Deacon's eyes flicked to the semi behind us. “You boys want a drink before we do business? Or other way around? Tammy’s got a case on ice for us.”

Jamiewrenched his wrist free of my grasp, a dangerous glint in his eye promising retribution. He turned to Deacon with a coquettish tilt of his head, ignoring me completely. “A drink sounds good. Lead the way, handsome.”

Deacon chuckled, clearly enjoying the tension crackling between me and Jamie. He slung a beefy arm around the kid's narrow shoulders, pulling him close as he guided us deeper into the maze of wrecked cars.

I clenched my jaw, a muscle ticking as I watched Deacon's hand drift lower to squeeze Jamie's ass. The casual way he touched what was mine made my blood boil and my dick throb in equal measure. Jamie shot me a look over his shoulder, a smug little smirk playing on his lips. The little shit was enjoying this.

We approached a battered Airstream trailer, warm light spilling from the windows. Raucous laughter and the familiar riff of “Sunshine of your Love” grew louder as Deacon banged on the door. It swung open to reveal Tammy, Deacon's wife, all tits and teased hair like a trailer park Dolly Parton.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in!” She flung her arms around my neck, smashing her ample bosom against my chest.

Tammy's embrace was as familiar as it was enticing, her soft curves molding against my hard planes in a way that brought back a flood of heated memories. My hands instinctively went to her generous hips, fingers digging into the denim stretched tight across her ass.

“Hey there, darlin'. Miss me?” I murmured against her hair, inhaling the scent of hairspray and weed.

She pulled back with a throaty laugh, keeping her arms looped around my neck. “You know I did, you big lug. Been too long since we had ourselves a proper reunion.”

Her heavily made-up eyes cut over to Jamie appraisingly. “And who's this pretty young thing?”

“I'm Jamie.” He stepped forward with a cocky tilt of his chin, making no move to shake her hand. “Stu's... friend.”

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