Page 53 of Valor on the Move
It was so wrong, and the thrill of it just made him harder. He’d kept all of this locked up so tightly, and now his dirtiest fantasies were surging out of him.
“I want to eat your spunk. I want you to fill me up until it’s dripping out.” Rafa was hot all over, his cheeks burning, but the words kept tripping off his tongue. “I know I’m not supposed to. But that’s what I want. I want your cum, Shane.”
There was a sharp, unmistakable intake of breath on the other side of the stall door, and Rafa came, spraying the floor and toilet, his knees trembling as the pleasure burned. Gasping, he bit his lip, riding out the waves as he emptied.
Then it was over, and he was standing in a gross roadside toilet with his messy dick in his hand, Shane still out of reach.
What did I just do?
Humiliation spiraling through him, Rafa tore off a ream of rough toilet paper and started cleaning up. Please let me wake up now. Please let this not be real.
But he knew no amount of wishing or praying would help. Shane was waiting.
Chapter Fourteen
Jesus. Christ. Almighty.
Shane’s pulse thundered in his ears, and his cock strained against his briefs. He curled his hands into fists, willing his body to calm. The last thing he needed was Alan coming in to find him with a raging hard-on. Get a fucking grip. NOW. He should have left the building as soon as Rafa started touching himself, but his feet had been stuck in virtual cement.
In the stall, Rafa was breathing hard, his little pants filling the air and echoing off the walls and ceiling. Shane still couldn’t believe Rafa had actually done it, but done it he had. And God, the things he’d said. His voice was raw with need, and hearing his fantasies made Shane harder and hotter than he’d been in…maybe ever. Had Shane really once thought Rafa was nothing to write home about? An unremarkable kid? Lust burned his veins, and in a perfect world he’d yank open the stall door and fuck him so hard and good that Rafa would come again.
But this was reality, and the reality was that tomorrow he was going to request an immediate transfer. There was no doubt he wanted his protectee in his bed, and it wasn’t just about sex. Yes, Rafa turned him on something fierce, but beneath it Shane ached to find out what was wrong. To make it better. He wanted to hold him close and keep him safe. Not just physically, but in every way that mattered.
Enough. Take control of the situation. He breathed deeply, and his erection began to subside. Mind over matter.
Alan’s voice filled his ear. “Okay in there?”
Hoping the brick building had muffled enough of Rafa’s cries, Shane pressed the little button on his cuff to reactivate his mic, which he’d fortunately turned off before coming into the rest stop, thinking Rafa might want to talk in private. “Fine. Valor needs a few minutes. Perimeter?”
“Secure.”
“Copy that.”
Clearing his throat, Shane muted his mic again and walked a few steps from the stall to face the streaked mirrors. “Can you come out now?”
Rafa’s laugh was thready and bitter. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” After a few moments, the stall door opened and he shuffled out, flushed, with his wet hair dipping over his forehead rebelliously. He’d straightened himself, although his chinos and blue button-down looked ready for the laundry hamper. He didn’t meet Shane’s gaze as he hurried to the sink and scrubbed his hands. His head low, he mumbled, “I’m sorry.”
Shane watched him in the mirror. “Don’t be.”
Head still down, Rafa laughed—a harsh, staccato burst. “Come on. That was fucked up. I should never…you’re just trying to do your job. You don’t need this. Some pathetic little loser jerking off in front of you.”
The urge to tell Rafa that he wanted him, to reassure him that he wasn’t pathetic in the slightest, burned in Shane’s throat. He clasped his hands behind his back tightly. “You’re not a loser. And I shouldn’t have dared you.”
Rafa scrubbed his hands again, the soap frothing. “What am I, twelve? I can’t let a dare go? I’m supposed to be a grownup. I just feel so…”
After a moment, Shane quietly asked, “What?”
“Forget it. They don’t pay you to be my therapist. I just had a bad day.”
“Is it about what happened at the party last night?” The question popped out before he could stop it.
Rafa blew out a breath and glanced up tentatively, meeting Shane’s gaze in the mirror. He was still flushed, and his dark eyes shone. “Yeah. Bad night too.”
Shane desperately wanted to ask more, but he’d fucked up enough for one day. “Come on. Let’s head back. Have you eaten? We’ll stop along the way. You’ll feel better.”
