Robbie beams across the table. I smile back, shyly but my eyes full of meaning.
Robbie is one hundred percent right, the answer is right here before me. It’s just a question of how I know that this is what Kaleb wants too…
Chapter 14
Kaleb
The locker room smells like sweat, shower gel, and body spray. It’s quite the potent combination, but a sign that some of the town’s most rugged men have passed through for a workout. Overhead fluorescents buzz faintly. Most of the guys have already cleared out—Saturday afternoon crowd thinning fast—but Trask and I are still here, peeling off soaked T-shirts and shorts after the kind of workout that leaves your legs shaking and your lungs burning.
I’m normally more of a weights only kinda guy but the occasional high intensity cardio session is a requirement for good health. Or so I’m told by Dr. Moses, the friendly old town doctor.
Anyway…
I drop my gym bag on the bench, strip the rest of the way down. Towel slung low on my hips for the walk to the showers. Trask’s doing the same beside me—broad shoulders, thick arms, the same easy confidence he’s had since we were teenagers spotting each other on bench press.
He glances over, smirking. “You gonna tell me about the friend or what?”
I snort, grabbing my shower kit. “Robbie?”
“Yeah,Robbie.” Trask says his name like he’s tasting it. “Pocket rocket with the attitude. He single?”
I laugh—low, rough—and head toward the showers. “Yeah. Single. And yeah, pocket rocket is about right. He’s got more energy than a toddler on sugar and zero filter. Taron says he’s been single for a while… says guys can’t keep up.”
Trask follows, towel over his shoulder, grin turning wicked. “Sounds like my kind of trouble.”
I shake my head, still laughing. “You’re hopeless.”
“Realistic,” Trask corrects. “Been a minute since I met a boy who could match my bullshit. And he’s friends with your boy? That’s practically fate. Tell me where I’m telling lies here.”
I chuckle. Trask is a class act and a brilliant friend, all told. But he does love to find a boy to flirt with. And something tells me that Robbie might be more than willing to go blow for blow with him in those stakes.
I step under the first open showerhead, twist the knob. Hot water hits like a hammer—perfect after the workout. Steam rises fast. I close my eyes, let it pound against my shoulders, washing away the ache in my quads and the tightness in my traps.
But my mind doesn’t stay on the burn.
It drifts to Taron.
To the way he looked curled against me on the rug, bottle in his mouth, eyes heavy and trusting. To the way he felt underme in his B&B room… soft curves, breathy little moans, calling me Daddy while I drove into him hard and deep until we both shattered.
My cock twitches. Thickens.Fast.
I glance down.Shit. Not now.
But the image won’t leave: him on his knees in front of me, lips stretched around me, eyes glassy and eager. The way he swallowed every inch like he was starving for it. The way he begged when I finally slid inside him… tight, accommodating, perfect.
I groan low in my throat, hand braced on the tile. Water streams down my back, over my ass, down my thighs. I’m half-hard now, heavy and aching. If he were here…
If he were here I’d have him backed against the wall, legs wrapped around my waist, my mouth on his while I fucked him slow and filthy under the spray. His nails digging into my shoulders. His sweet voice gasping “Daddy, please” every time I bottomed out.
Fuck.
I’m fully hard now—thick, throbbing, veins standing out. Water runs over the head, teasing. I grit my teeth. Not the time. Not the place.
Trask’s voice cuts through from the next cubicle over.
“Yo! You gonna tell me more about Robbie or what? Age? Job? Kinks? Gimme something, man!”
I bark a laugh despite myself. “Jesus, Trask.Patience.”