Page 61 of Donovan's Men

“Oh.” With clear deliberation, Hamish put his hands on Tyson’s thighs to lever himself up. “Uh…”

Tyson sat up.

I would’ve been jelly.

He undid Hamish’s button, lowered the zipper, then pulled the jeans and briefs down Hamish’s legs.

Hamish sucked in a breath.

“I’ll warm you up, babe.” Tyson met his gaze.

“Lie back. And enjoy.” Hamish dragged his sweater and shirt over his head.

Tyson licked his lips. And sat back.

I pressed the heel of my hand to my dick. Because Hamish, with his red hair glowing in the firelight, was a sight to behold. His slender body was such a contrast to Tyson’s solid mass.

Yet both attracted me in much the same way. The desire to dominate. To control. To love.

Hamish took himself in hand.

Again, where I expected hesitation, none occurred. Instead, he jacked himself with a vigor that impressed me.

And then came like a fucking freight train.

He appeared as surprised—with his mouth opening—as I was. I’d expected him to need to work up to it. Nope. Obviously, he’d been so close that going over took no effort.

“Jesus.” Tyson whispered the words.

Hamish grabbed his pants and underwear. Unceremoniously yanked them up and fled.

Where I’d planned to offer to lick his cum off Tyson’s chest, that now felt wrong.

Tyson held my gaze.

I handed him some tissue.

We showered separately and went to bed.

Chapter Thirteen

Tyson

Where I expected the next morning to be awkward, as we sat in the classic diner Fifties—apparently a staple of Mission City—I found little tension.

Hamish sipped an Earl Grey tea while Donovan and I drank black coffee.

A lovely, bubbly server named Patrice had taken our orders. Omelet for Donovan, steak and eggs for me, and a waffle with strawberries for Hamish.

Donovan and I sat next to each other, across from Hamish in the booth. If the dynamic bothered him, he certainly made no sign of it. The seating, of course, had been dictated by Donovan. Somehow, he seemed to have a hand in everything. Sometimes almost invisible—and something blatantly obvious.

He’d visited the diner when they’d been doing a shoot in town a few years ago. In fact,Vigilante Justicehad filmed an entire scene in this space. Apparently, Lyric and Justice had gotten into a fight—par for the course for them—and many, many, many dishes had been broken.

I wished I’d had time to stream the show in my spare free moments. With five seasons, though, that would’ve been a lot to watch.

Maybe I could talk these two into a few binge weekends. Donovan might not want to. That said, if it meant spending time with the two of us, he’d probably be game.Nothing ventured…“Okay, so I’d love to see theVJepisode filmed here.”

Hamish grinned. “Oh yes. I love the atmosphere. So very fifties. With the posters, music, booths, and everything.”