Page 81 of The Falcon and the Foe

“I think you’re sexier with some meat on you.” He gave me a turned-on look and let out a muffled grunt. “Forget that guy. You’re a wonderful father, an entrepreneur, a comedian, a friend. It seems like Dan is the one who’s nothing more than a piece of meat.”

A blush crept up my neck. “So you wouldn’t want to meet Skinny Cal?”

“I’m sure he’s a nice guy, but I prefer Bear Cal.” He slid a hand on my thigh, and I shifted so he could feel the effect he had on me.

Minutes later, we were pulling onto to a dead, wooded side street and ferociously making out. Like, I didn’t know how I was able to breathe. Our hot tongues found each other in a blaze of heat.

Seconds after that, Russ unbuckled his seat belt and unbuckled my pants at the same time. He took me in his mouth. I pumped up into his hot opening, moaning for more. The grunting and sucking filled the silence, and I went dizzy with need. He milked me dry, taking every last drop I gave him.

Even amid the surplus of denim around his waist, I could easily spot his erection. I unzipped him and disappeared his thick cock into my mouth. The heat of his strong hands combed my hair and pressed me down. He held me in place as he bucked his hips and fucked my mouth, desire ripping through him just as ravenously as it’d done to me.

Sex was addictive. Full stop.

“Oh, baby. You’re so fucking hot,” he said between grunts. “If I had my way, I’d make it illegal for you to wear clothes.” His groaning echoed in the confined space. “And you’re so damn handsome and funny. The whole fucking package. Oh!”

Speaking of the whole damn package, I took him all the way to the back of my throat.

His voice cracked as he hit orgasm, spilling hot seed into my mouth.

Once we caught our breaths and tucked our dicks back in our pants, he pulled a box of Tic Tacs from the glove compartment. “Want one?”

I gladly took him up on the offer.

It was only early afternoon, and this had already shot up to one of the best days of my life.

“Where to next?” he asked.

24

RUSS

Afunny thing happened on the way back to Sourwood. In a strange confluence of events, Cal’s friends, who called themselves the Single Dads Club, all found their afternoons free. As I drove into town, their group text blew up Cal’s phone with suggestions on what to do. Cal asked if I was ready to meet the Club. Excluding him, the number of single-parent friends and gay friends in my social circle was approximately zero. So the answer was yes.

We decided on lunch at Stone’s Throw Tavern, a bar tucked on a side street off the downtown strip, one of those places I’d passed a zillion times. My stomach was very vocal about needing food because my original lunch wound up on the carpet of Cal’s house. In between that time, I’d had sex multiple times and ziplined, which were equally arduous.

Stone’s Throw Tavern was deceptively spacious, much more than it looked from the outside. While dark wood paneling gave it a cozy feel, the large windows overlooking the river made it feel large and open. Cal’s friends crept around a life-size Jenga tower in the back, and we got there just as the mayor of Sourwood pulled the unlucky block that sent the tower toppling.

“Cal, look what you made me do,” Mayor Leo McCaslin said with an overdramatic sigh.

“I guess I shouldn’t have yelled wazzup right as you were taking out that block.” Cal pretended to be guilty.

“Are you sure you want to be friends with this guy?” the mayor asked me. I gulped an awkward lump in my throat before I realized he was being sarcastic. “Kidding.”

Cal introduced me to the crew. The mayor, who insisted I just call him Leo, wore a loose tie and rolled-up sleeves. His meetings were canceled for today; he insisted he wasn’t playing hooky and would never do that to constituents like me. Buzz, with blonde hair that flopped over his forehead, wore a half-zip fleece and jeans, and he had the perma-tired expression that told me he had a baby at home. Mitch, who owned Stone’s Throw Tavern, stopped over when he could in between running the place.

After introductions, Cal and I joined in a new game, which I was grateful for since it cut out any awkward getting-to-know-you small talk. It was the two of us versus Buzz and Leo, and I could tell they were as competitive as me.

I pulled Cal into a huddle. “Stick to center pieces as much as you can. They’re the safest bet. Don’t try to be John Wayne out there. The table tilts slightly to the left, so if you do have to go with side pieces, aim for ones on the right side. They’ll benefit from the imbalance.”

Cal absorbed my strategy with a blank stare. “Is there any activity where you aren’t bossy and competitive?”

I raised my eyebrows provocatively.

“No, you’re bossy there, too,” he shot back.

“Don’t you want to win?”

“I don’t...really care? I’m here to have—”

---