Page 14 of Handy

It’s so damn subtle, but his chest hitches and the briefest flash of heat floods his cheeks before he makes an almost-laugh sound in his throat and shakes his head. Fuck do I want to watch him let go. I want to make him feel so damn good that he forgets to be stoic and growly for just a few minutes and is breathless and whimpering instead. My cock swells and I bite my bottom lip against the groan that threatens to escape.

I probably shouldn’t distract him while he’s slicing through my pipes. This part of the process is stunningly quick. It only takes him a few minutes to replace the rusted section, then go down and turn my water back on. Kind of a shame I won’t havethe excuse to shower at his house again. Maybe I’ll just have to get a little more creative to get another invite.

He packs his tools into the box and I notice him rolling his shoulder as he straightens back up. And here I was worried that I might have to find a subtle way to transition from handiwork tohandywork. God really must love me.

“You can leave your toolbox here, unless you need to take it back to work with you,” I offer.

“This is my ‘at home’ toolbox actually, so that’ll be perfect not having to lug it back and forth.” He rolls his shoulder again and stuffs his hands awkwardly into his pockets.

I stand up and finally take off the hard hat, setting it down on the chair.

“After twelve hours of manual labor, why don’t you let me give you a back massage?” I soften my voice a little, adding a coaxing purr, just like I do any time I’m talking to a potentially skittish animal.

Griff grunts and his shoulders soften. He doesn’t move, so I cross the messy room. Up close, I can see the light sheen of sweat on his face and smell sawdust and pine on his skin. I pluck his goggles off, then his hard hat, and he sags a little more. Poor baby, how long has it been since anyone has just been sweet and gentle with him? How long since anyone has taken care of him?

“Come here, my big ol’ grizzly,” I coo, setting his gear down and dragging my fingers through his hair just like I imagined doing earlier.

His eyelids droop at the simple touch, and the sound that rumbles in his throat is deep and primal, stiffening my cock instantly and injecting heat directly into my veins.

“Come on, big guy.” I give him a few more scritches like the needy bear he is, then I untangle my fingers from his hair and grab his wrist to lead him to my bedroom.

“Where are we going?” he asks.

“My bedroom. I figured you wouldn’t want to strip down and lay on top of a pile of moldy drywall for your massage.”

Another laugh thunders low in his throat. The sound makes something in my gut quake in response, and my cock stiffens a little more. When we get to my bedroom, I close the door behind us so TP doesn’t get curious and come to crash the party. We both toe off our shoes and leave them next to the door. There’s something so damn satisfying about seeing his work boots next to my hiking boots.

I inch closer to Griff again and he sways into me like his body craves any contact it can get. We’re about the same height, but he’s softer than I am and a little wider, all hairy, sexy bear that I’m desperate to pet and tease and hump. His chest moves against mine with every slow, trembling inhale, and for a minute we just stare at each other. His forest-green eyes are a mixture of neediness and sadness that I’m sure he thinks I can’t see.

I nudge my nose against his and gather a fistful of his shirt, tugging it loose from his jeans and pushing it up to expose his belly.

“Mmm,” I hum, slipping my hands underneath to feel the warmth of his skin and the softness of his body hair against my palms and fingers. His stomach tightens, then relaxes into my touch, a shudder running through him. “Aw, does my big bear like belly rubs?”

I smirk, using one thumb to circle his belly button in a slow, teasing touch while I drag the other hand up and down, petting him just like I wanted to. Griff’s breath hitches and, to my surprise, he nods. His belly quakes under my hands again and he thrusts his hips, pressing the hard length of his cock against mine through our jeans. His eyelids droop again and he makes a strangled sound in his throat, practically lunging at me to close the nonexistent space between us. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, and I keep stroking his belly soothingly. I wanted tostrip away his stoic outer layer, but I didn’t expect a five-second belly rub to be all it would take. My poor bear needs me even more than I realized.

It’s okay, Big Bear, Ledgie will make it all better.

I kiss his cheek and give him a little nudge. He stiffens and pulls back.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Don’t you dare apologize.” I hold his gaze for a second so he knows I mean it. “I just wanted to get these clothes off of you so I can give you that massage I promised. I think you’ve earned a nice, leisurely rub down. Don’t you?” I stroke my fingers through his soft beard, and he lets out another slow, shuddering breath.

I tug his shirt up again, this time not stopping until he has to raise his arms so I can pull it over his head. I drop it on the floor and devour his hairy chest with my greedy eyes before going for his belt. Not to brag or anything, but I’m pretty efficient at getting a gorgeous man naked.

“Okay if I take these off too?” I ask, running my index finger along his skin just above the waistband of his boxer briefs. They’re plain white, the kind that come in a six pack at any big box store. Is this what you like, Griff, or are you waiting for someone else to help you inject a little color into your life?

He grunts and nods, helping me by hooking his fingers into the waistband and shoving them down. And, lord help me, this man’s cock is everything I was hoping for and more. I might need several moments of silence to fully appreciate the perfect proportions of his thickness and length. It’s the very definition of a boyfriend dick, and I mean that in the most complimentary way possible. It’s the kind of cock I could happily ride every day. His balls are big and full, hanging heavily between his thighs, swaying as he shifts his weight, and I realize I’ve been staring at his junk for maybe a little too long.

“Lay down.” I smile and nod towards my bed behind him.

I don’t bother to suppress my satisfied sigh as I watch him crawl onto my bed and make himself comfortable with his face in my pillow and his glorious, round ass on display. I strip out of my own shirt and jeans, tossing them into my hamper, then grab the lube I stole from him off of the top of my dresser and a bottle of lotion for his massage.

The bed dips and creaks under my weight as I climb on and crawl up to straddle his ass. We both groan as I settle on top of him, my hard cock straining the soft fabric of my colorful briefs—these ones featuring an array of cute cartoon parakeets—and nudging between his warm ass cheeks.

“Nothing to worry about. This is how all the most professional massages are done,” I say in a serious voice, grinding into the crease between his cheeks.

He makes a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a moan and thrusts his hips back to meet me. My cock throbs, but I ignore it for now. I promised him a massage and I never break a promise. I drop the lube on the bed and fill my palm with lotion, rubbing my hands together to warm it up a little before I place them on his back.

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