Page 18 of Refraction

“I can. I… did, actually. Guy frozen in the snow, cowboy hat, silver spray paint across his chest?” He raised an eyebrow in question.

“That’s great. I bet there’s a performance artist doing that somewhere.”

“Could be.” He leaned in and licked Tucker’s nipple. He had to—he’d been staring at it for like five minutes. It was calling his name.

Tucker’s breath caught, and then he released it with a soft, low moan. “Damn, honey.”

He chuckled. “I know, I’m sorry. I had to! It’s right. There.” He did it again. “See?” He swirled the very tip of his tongue into the hair just beside it and tugged gently. Tucker had seemed to like that earlier.

Tucker groaned for him, arched nice and slow and long, lifting him from the bed.

Fuck, look at that. “Jesus, you are just… luscious.” Calvin drew a hand from Tucker’s shoulder and all along that beautiful bend in the cowboy’s back. He continued over one hip, dark in silhouette against the window, until he reached Tucker’s ass.

He stared, the sight of his hand on Tucker’s deeply tanned skin wonderful, addictive.

He’d never have known by the way Tucker fucked him earlier that he was new to all of this, but now that he knew? He decided the cowboy needed a good rimming.

“Gonna rock your world, cowboy.”

Calvin pulled Tucker toward him, coaxing, stretching him out on his stomach.

“Gonna? You’ve done a damn fine job so far….”

Tucker hadn’t seen anything yet.

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