Page 100 of Parting Shot

He was a vision.

I gathered him close and held him tight until he went boneless in my arms. I couldn’t move that much, my dress pants only pushed to my knees, but enough so he could lift up and have my cock slide from his slick, wet hole.

Fluid ran out of him and onto me, and since there was no bathroom, no way to clean up before we had to get out of the car, I sacrificed my undershirt to the cause and wiped us both off.

“Duncan,” he began, and I saw that my sweet man needed me.

Rolling forward and taking his face in my hands, I kissed his forehead and his eyebrows, nose, eyes, cheeks, and then took his mouth, inhaling him, kissing him until he had to pull away to breathe.

“You’re not getting away from me,” he panted.

“Don’t want to. I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”

I didn’t know his eyes could get that big.

“We’re in this together.”

“I thought we were in it before?” I teased him.

“I will punch you in the stomach really hard,” he warned me.

I could not contain my chuckle.

He glowered at me, but only for a moment, and then his smile was radiant before he was all over me.

“You realize we have to get out of the car that smells like sweat and jizz, right?”

“Try to get me to care,” he said with a deep sigh of contentment.

We moved apart, each of us surveying the state our passion had left us in. My pants couldn’t be salvaged, my dress shirt had buttons missing, and I had semen sticking to my abdomen.

“This is such a bad idea,” I assured him after retaking my seat.

“What?” He had flopped into his, sprawled out, looking completely debauched.

“Us getting out of the car.”

“No,” he said, scrambling forward, closing the short distance between us and climbing back into my lap. “We’re going to see this through. We’re going to do our jobs here and then go back to Chicago, because I really want to take you home.”

“Why?”

“I’m ready for my life to start.”

He had a way of knowing the right thing to say.

TWELVE

The instructions were: drive up to the main gate of the resort, get out, and punch a code into the box. Once the code was transmitted to the front desk, a car would be dispatched with security personnel. The guest would have their passport or other ID ready to show when they were asked for it, and then they would be wanded with handheld metal detectors. All electronic devices—including cell phones, tablets, and the like—would be left in a secured, climate-controlled locker near the front gate. Each guest would place items in the locker and get one key, and security would have the other key, much like a safe-deposit box at the bank. The building where the lockers were housed had twenty-four-hour video surveillance, as well as its own security guards, to ensure the safekeeping of all surrendered technology. Once all steps were completed, a Jeep would show up to drive the guest the rest of the way, a mile and a half, to the main building.

Sitting there beside Aaron in the back of the nicest tricked-out, custom-leather-seat Jeep I had ever been in, I was able to take a breath.

“I hope you enjoy your visit here with us at Buona Sera,” the driver said, smiling into the rearview mirror.

I opened my mouth to answer him, just to exchange pleasantries, but Aaron squeezed my knee and spoke instead. “Thank you so much.”

I turned to look at him, and he gave the slightest shake of his head.

Not sure what was going on, I stayed quiet anyway, enjoying Aaron leaning against me, the last moments of it being just us before we were onstage.