Page 90 of Donovan's Men

Oh hell.

Socks had to be the least sexy thing, but feet weren’t exactly sexy either.

I hate cold feet.Suffer in silence. Do you really want him to see your cartoon socks?I wore them as a conversation starter when I worked with children—which admittedly wasn’t often. More than a few adult clients had commented, cementing the idea that giving anyone a starting point was a good idea. And, again, why was I thinking of my patients?

Because you may not have them anymore?

Oh yeah, that.

Pushing that thought out of my mind, I leapt into bed, lay in the middle, and crossed my hands behind my head. The light in the room was muted from outside—clouds had rolled in while we’d been talking to Donovan.

Tyson stepped into the room and stopped short.

My dick curled upward toward my belly with a drop of precum leaking. My appendage sat nicely in a nest of red pubic hair. More hair lightly covered my body, with just a sparse amount on my chest. That had always made me self-consciousgrowing up. Both my father and brothers had significant chest hair. I’d wondered if I was gay because I didn’t have much chest hair or if I didn’t have much chest hair because I was gay. Of course, both notions were ridiculous—but I’d been a young boy struggling with his sexuality and unable to talk to his parents. Internet searches hadn’t been a thing back then. Well, they had been, but both my parents possessed significant computer skills. What few books I’d found—

You’re at it again.

Tyson cocked an eyebrow. “I would love to know what you’re thinking.”

“Nothing good, I promise you.”

He eyed my slightly deflating appendage. “Well, we’ll just have to get you riled up again.” He put a glass of water on the bedside table. Then rounded to my side and did the same thing.

Wow, he got me a glass as well.

Such a little gesture so replete with meaning.

He yanked his Henley over his head.

His thick pelt of white hair, which I’d seen the other night but, because of my nerves back then, barely remembered.Wow, he’s gray everywhere—his muscular pecs, his tight abs, and his toned arms.

I possessed none of those things. Although I was slender, my stomach wasn’t entirely flat. I had few defined muscles except, perhaps, my thighs. From running.

He pulled his cell phone and wallet from his back pocket and laid them on the right nightstand.

“Do you need a charger?”

Inane enough?

He shook his head. “Charged overnight. I’m good for a while.” He winked. “But thanks for the offer.” He flexed his arms as he unbuttoned his jeans.

My dick re-stiffened.

Off came the jeans, leaving only gray boxer briefs. First, he removed his socks—okay, good to know you’re not the only one who’ll bear cold feet for the chance to be sexier—then he hooked his thumbs into his boxers and slowly lowered them, mindful of his impressive erection.

His thatch of white pubic hair accentuated the size of his cock in some indefinable way.

This time, I licked my lips.

He palmed his erection.

Yes, please, more of that. “May I…” I held out my hand.

He nodded.

I moved until I was on my knees before him.

He held himself still.