Page 13 of His Big Hometown Cowboy
“You know I do.” He kicked off his shoes, eyes never leaving my body as he worked on his jeans. “Always have.”
We shed the rest of our clothes, the air crackling with a strange mix of urgency and charged awareness. Every revealed inch of skin felt like a promise. When Timmy stood before me, clad only in snug black boxer briefs straining against his obvious arousal, I had to clench my fists at my sides. Just to keep from grabbing him. Just to prolong this moment of seeing him, finally seeing all of him after years of stolen glances and suppressed thoughts.
“These too.” I nodded toward his underwear, my voice hoarse. “Want you completely naked for me. Nothing between us.”
The command resonated in the tense silence. His breathing quickened, eyes darkening as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband. Slowly. So damn slowly, he pushed the fabric down his thighs, over his knees, letting it pool at his ankles.
His cock sprang free, hard and flushed. Perfect. Even more perfect than the countless hazy images conjured late at night in this very bed. My throat went dry.
“Christ, Timmy.” The words were a low growl, torn from somewhere deep inside. Hunger clawed at me. “Look at you. Fucking beautiful.”
He stepped out of the underwear, standing proud. Not a hint of shyness. Just open desire. “Your turn, big guy.” A challenging glint entered his eyes. “Let me see what you’ve been hiding in those jeans all these years.”
My boots hit the floor with heavy thuds. Jeans followed quickly, pooling around my ankles. My boxers were dispatched with less ceremony, my cock springing heavy and thick between us, already slick with need.
Timmy’s eyes widened, tracking the length of me. His tongue darted out, wetting his lower lip. “Holy shit, Wyatt. That’s... impressive.”
A wolfish grin spread across my face, pure dominant satisfaction mixed with something softer, something reserved just for him. I closed the distance, looming over him, savoring the way he had to tilt his head back to meet my gaze. The power dynamic shifted, fueled by years of unspoken yearning. “Get on your knees.”
The command hung in the air, rough as gravel. His pupils dilated, the immediate surrender in his eyes hitting me harder than any resistance could have. He sank down slowly, deliberately, eyes locked with mine the entire way. Until he was kneeling before me on the worn rug, hands sliding up my thighs, his touch sending fire through my veins.
“Been dreaming about this cock for years,” he confessed, his voice thick. He leaned forward, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the shaft, right below the head. The wet heat nearly buckled my knees. “Used to jerk off thinking about how it would feel. In my mouth. Stretching me open.”
His filthy, honest words slammed into me. Blood rushed south so fast I felt momentarily dizzy. “Jesus, Timmy.” My voice was strained. “That mouth of yours…”
He looked up then, through thick lashes, one hand wrapping firmly around the base of my shaft. That knowing look, the one that always felt like he saw right through me, was back, but now it was laced with pure hunger. “You like my mouth?” His lips quirked. “Wait till you feel what else it can do.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Leaned forward without warning, taking the thick head of my cock between his lips, sucking hard. Immediate. Intense. My hips jerked involuntarily. His tongue swirled around the sensitive ridge, slicking away the bead of precum before he sank lower, taking me inch by painstaking inch down his throat.
“Fuck. That’s good,” I groaned, fingers threading into his soft hair. Need clawed at me, raw and sharp. “Look at you. Swallowing my cock like you were made for it.”
His eyes, locked on mine, darkened at the praise. His free hand found my balls, cupping them, rolling them gently as his mouth worked me deeper. The sight of him… his stretched lips tight around my thickness, the slick, wet sounds echoing in the quiet room… it was almost too much. Overwhelming.
“That’s it,” I encouraged, voice ragged. My hips moved without conscious thought, small thrusts meeting his rhythm. “Take it deeper. Want to feel the back of your throat.”
To my amazement, he relaxed, taking more of me than I thought possible. His throat contracted around the head of my cock, a tight, wet pressure that sent stars exploding behind my eyes. Pure sensation. Pure friction. Pure Timmy.
“Christ,” I panted, cradling his head, needing that connection, needing to feel him surrounding me. “Your mouth is fucking perfect.” I let him pull back slightly, needing air myself. “Sucking my cock like you’ve been starving for it.”
He pulled off with a wet pop, lips swollen, glistening. A satisfied smirk played on his mouth. “I have been.” His voice was wrecked, rough in the best way. “Wanted to taste you for so fucking long, Wyatt.”
Possessiveness, sharp and fierce, surged through me. No more waiting. No more distance.
He was mine.
I hauled him to his feet, crashing my mouth down on his, tasting myself on his tongue, reclaiming him. Our bodies pressed together, skin against skin, heat against heat. Cocks slid against each other, slick and hard, eliciting twin gasps.
“On the bed.” The order came out rough against his lips. “On your back. Now.” I needed to see him laid out for me. Needed to explore every inch. “Going to eat that tight ass until you’re begging me to fuck you.”
A low moan tore from his throat. He scrambled onto the mattress without argument, eager compliance shining in his eyes. He spread his legs, propping himself up on his elbows, one hand finding his own cock, stroking lazily as he watched me crawl onto the bed.
“Any idea how many times I’ve jerked off to the thought of you spreading me open like this?” His voice was breathy, strained with anticipation. “How many times I’ve fingered myself, imagining it was your cock inside me?”
My control, already frayed, slipped another notch. His confession, his blatant honesty about wanting me, wantingthis, was devastatingly hot. “Show me,” I commanded, my voice thick. “Show me how you touched yourself thinking of me.”
His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, then a wicked smile spread across his face. He lifted his fingers to his mouth, sucking them wet with deliberate slowness, eyes locked on mine. Then he reached down between his spread legs. I shifted backslightly, needing to watch. His slick fingers circled his tight entrance before pressing inward. One finger. Slowly.
“Would think about you.” His eyes fluttered shut for a moment before snapping back to mine. He worked the finger deeper. “How big your hands are. How rough they’d feel.” He added a second finger, a soft gasp escaping his lips. “How thick your cock would feel stretching me. Filling me up.”
