1
JAMESON
“You know I love the shit out of you, right?” Bobby’s perpetual smile brightens as he glances at me from behind the wheel of our truck.
“You’d better,” I grumble.
“There’s still time to back out.”
“Nah.” Of course, there’s time to back out, but we’ve come this far together and I can’t bear to crush him like that. Bobby stops at the crosswalk, letting Sutton cross Main Street, pushing her navy blue stroller. Bobby watches her, waving back and returning her smile, but at the corner of his eyes I can see that wistful longing. I see it, because I feel it too.
Sugar Creek seems to be experiencing a population boom, and it’s not yuppies relocating to the sticks. No, baby fever hit our town in a big way. First, Willow, the bakery owner. Then my sister-in-law, Sutton, and my brother Dean announced they were expecting.
That wasn’t a huge surprise, but Spencer and Phoebe? That one caught me off guard. My boss brought little bundles of pastel blue and pink M&Ms for everyone at the bar. Grumpy-ass Spencer has been a veritable ray of sunshine lately. I’m not used to him bouncing around and smiling at everyone. It sets me on edge, even if I am thrilled for him.
It’s just difficult, watching all the people I grew up with start their families when Bobby and I can’t because neither of us happens to have a uterus. We’ve looked into adoption and applied for so many babies that it makes my head spin, but the back seat of our truck is still empty.
Surrogacy wasn’t my first choice. Or my second, third, or fourth. Bobby and I aren’t a traditional couple. Not by a long shot. People take one look at us and assume we’re gay. They figure boobs scare us and pussy grosses us out. People are idiots, but trying to explain polyamory to the general population of Sugar Creek is a task too daunting, even for Bobby and his endless patience.
Explaining bisexuality while in a committed male/male relationship is just as hopeless. And since Bobby and I never found a woman to add to our family, it doesn’t seem worthwhile to even try. I can’t imagine the grannies at bingo really grasping the concept, so it’s just easier to hide behind their assumptions and live our lives.
Bobby parks in the gravel lot just up the road from the Sugar Creek Bakery. He picks a spot in the back, where it’s completely empty and the trees lean out, shielding the cab of the truck from view unless someone walked right up to it. “Bobby…” I warn half-heartedly.
His smile morphs from his usual sweet, boyish expression into a devious smirk. “Yes, Jameson?” His voice is almost innocent, but he can’t keep that rumbling purr at bay. He reaches over, rubbing my dick, squeezing it through the thick denim of my jeans.
My abs contract, forcing a moan out of me. “We’re going to be late…” I trail off, quickly losing any will I had to fight him on this.
“Nah, we’re twenty minutes early.”
“That’s all you need, huh? Twenty minutes?” I scoff as he unsnaps the front of my jeans.
Bobby’s eyes, heavy with lust, shine. “For this? Absolutely.” His fingers sneak under the waistband of my boxers, teasing along my length. I give in, lifting my hips and shoving my clothes out of the way. Bobby smirks, his hand stroking my dick without the inconvenient fabric in his way.
“You know I’m going to smack your ass for this,” I grumble.
“Oh, I’m very much counting on it.” His mischievous smile, paired with those dimples, would be enough to stop traffic. Not that I’d let anyone else see it. That particular expression is perfectly crafted to make me harder than steel, and he reserves it just for me.
Bobby reaches over my hips to the side of my seat, hitting the recline button. I let out a pained laugh, tangling my fingers in his sand-colored hair as his lips close around the head of my dick. “Jesus, Bobby. You’re going to be the death of me.” He hums happily, swallowing me down.
I drop my head to the back of the seat. “That feels so good,” I growl, stroking my fingertips along his back. I do my best to keep my eyes open, just in case someone decides to park next to us, but he keeps taking me down his throat, humming around my cock like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. It’s impossible to resist.He’simpossible to resist.
My pulse throbs in my veins. I can hear it in my ears, feel it against his tongue. “Fuck,” I growl. “You’re way too good at this.”
He places his hand over the one I have buried in his hair, pushing down on it in the least subtle hint I’ve ever seen. He’s a switch, but when he’s in the mood to get roughed up, he’s really clear about what he wants.
“You want it hard?” I chuckle. Bobby nods, but doesn’t release my dick. Tightening my grip in his hair, I pull him up, lifting his face to look at me. His eyes are shining with glee, the little gold flecks sparking in his emerald irises. God, I love him. “Then ask me nice,” I demand.
“Please?” He asks, his expression coy.
“For you, baby…” I wink at him and push his head down again. He takes me in his mouth, sucking hard but letting me control the pace. “Anything.”
I use him, both my hands twisting in his hair for leverage. The harder I fuck his mouth, the louder he moans. His tongue flicks at the tip of my cock, sending little shocks of lightning through my nervous system.
“Goddamn, that’s so good, Bobby…” I run a hand down his spine, stroking his back, relishing the way his muscles move under the thin t-shirt. He moans at the show of affection, his mouth vibrating around my cock. “Ah, fuuuck.” My voice goes gravelly, and lights pop behind my eyes, forcing them shut.
After spending half a decade with him, I know what this is about, and it’s not because he’s horny. At least, it’s notjustbecause he’s horny. For Bobby, sex is intimacy. I can say I love him until I’m blue in the face, but when he’s feeling vulnerable, he needs to have it proven to him. And he usually wants it proven hard.
Heat, raw and crackling, grips my spine. I push him down, feeling the way his throat constricts around me. Bobby swallows, deeper and deeper, until his lips are stretched around the base of my cock and his moans turn to a feral growl.