Page 67 of The Barkeep and the Bro

Which I had enjoyed, but my sexual experiences couldn’t hold a freaking candle compared to Mitch. He made my body vibrate in ways I didn’t know possible—and we’d only done hand jobs.

Mitch brushed his chin against my left nipple, then my right, unleashing chills that spiraled down to my toes.

My throat cracked with a stifled moan, which made the fucker laugh.

“You know, you can grow your own beard,” he said.

“It won’t look like yours.” I grew facial hair in patches that didn’t connect. I was born to be clean-shaven.

Mitch kissed down my chest and stomach, his beard scratching at my tight skin. He looked up at me as he unbuckled my belt, a rare smile lighting up his face. It was a devious smile, but a smile nonetheless.

My body quaked with excitement at what I was sure was going to be the best blow job of my life. We had a busy day ahead of us, so he didn’t drag out the teasing. He yanked my pants to my knees and disappeared my cock into his mouth.

Holy fucking guacamole.

My entire being turned to jelly. His tongue knew its way around a dick, licking up the underside of my shaft and swirling around the head. Ecstasy flooded my veins. He grabbed my balls in his large hand and gave a light squeeze. I wanted to scream his name but bit down on my lower lip as more stifled moans slipped through my teeth.

Sweat clouded my vision. We were in a small, cramped space in the back of the van, my muscles tensing to keep me standing.

His hands and tongue worked my dick, filling my body with heat. I held onto the crates behind me for balance. He moaned as my dick hit the back of his hot mouth, and that did it for me.

I opened my mouth to give warning, but my body clenched with orgasm—including my vocal chords. I flooded his mouth with my come, but he didn’t seem to mind. He sucked me dry. A few drops dotted his beard, only adding to this pinnacle of sexiness.

He stopped me from having my bare ass collapsing onto the crates. They held glasses people would be drinking out of tonight.

He stood up and wiped his mouth with his shirt, revealing a sliver of his sexy belly and putting me back on the path to hardness. He picked up a stack of crates and carried them out of the truck.

* * *

A little while later,guests began to check in. The estate filled up with people, bringing a buzz to the festivities. I was exhausted from setting up this morning, which was difficult while carrying around a boner the whole time. But the busy time was coming. During a brief break, I caught a cat nap in the room, which gave me a second wind.

My phone woke me up with a buzz.

I have arrived!Amos texted.

I was incredibly grateful that he’d remained good enough friends with Ellie to secure an invitation.

I bolted up and asked him to meet me in the courtyard just outside the kitchen. The rain had subsided to a drizzle. We huddled under the awning.

“How’s everything going?” he asked. He had shaved and gotten a haircut but hadn’t put on his suit yet. “Has today been crazy?”

In ways you wouldn’t believe, bro.

“Yeah. It has.” My voice jumped an octave like I’d been kicked in the nuts. “It’s been busy.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great. But promise not to cut me off tonight at the bar.”

“Don’t make me.” I was mostly kidding. Amos could sometimes be a sad drunk, not the vibe we needed at a wedding. “But yeah, it’s been good.”

“It sucks that it’s raining, but what can you do?” Amos clocked my jittery hands. “Did you want to talk about something?”

“What?”

“You said you wanted to talk.” He read my face and body language and seemed to instantly size up the situation. And then he started laughing. “Holy shit.”

I shushed him.

“What did you do?”

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