I tilted my chin toward the door on the left.
He turned and opened it. I followed him inside.
The sole window faced the back of the building with curtains drawn. A bed sat against the far wall, stripped to the mattress.
I closed the door behind us. Farrow turned toward me.
I caught him by the front of his shirt and pushed him back against the wall beside the door. His back hit the plaster. He didn’t make a sound.
I placed my hand over his mouth.
It wasn’t caution. It was territorial. He understood, and the tension in his jaw eased under my palm. It was the only consent we needed.
Farrow’s pulse under my fingers ran faster than mine. He exhaled through his nose, hot breath moving across my hand.
I worked his belt open one-handed. He reached for mine. Neither of us undressed. I opened his jeans just enough—buckle, button, and zipper. He was hard, and I tugged the underwear down, exposing him.
He arched his hips and made a soft sound against my palm. I wrapped my fingers around his cock and stroked him .
Farrow was beautiful.
He was giving himself to me after he’d just told me he had chosen no one else since we met.
I pulled my hand off his mouth and turned his body to face the wall. Our combined heat negated the cold.
Farrow braced against the plaster with both hands. The skin on his neck was hot. He smelled like cherry cola and under that, the faint scent of gun oil he used to clean his sidearm.
I had condoms in my back pocket. They were standard equipment I carried, like a tourniquet and a backup magazine.The foil tearing was loud against the silence. Farrow grunted and reflexively spread his legs.
I sheathed my cock, spread lube on it from another small packet and didn’t waste time. The first thrust found its mark. Farrow took it the way I knew he would take it—silently, with his body quickly adjusting.
There was one short, caught breath. He was tight and hot, and he pushed his weight back into me. He wanted his share of my body.
The pace was fast. Farrow pressed his forehead against a braced arm. The line of his shoulders shifted under my chest with every thrust. I reached around and stroked his cock in the same rhythm.
A tremor passed through his body.
“Fuck, Dane,” he muttered. His first intelligible words.
I changed my angle, and the sounds told me he wanted it. I pulled almost out and made him wait. He pushed his hips back as far as they would go, and then I plunged deep once more.
I sped up the rhythm and reached out to place a hand over his mouth again. I was going to take him over, and I didn’t want to disturb the house.
His cock leaked precum over my hand. He shuddered.
Farrow came first, shooting against the wall. I watched the corded muscles of his neck as he grunted into my hand and pushed his hips hard back against me. His entire body locked, released, and locked again. I rode it out.
After two more thrusts, I came. I pressed my face against the back of his neck to muffle any sound.
I held still inside him through the aftershocks, and then I pulled my hand away from his mouth.
He took one deep breath and turned around.
I checked my watch. It had been five minutes, maybe six.
“This complicates the work,” I said.
Farrow was tucking his shirt in. “Babe, the work has been complicated since you walked into that bar three and a half weeks ago.”