Wild Trail (Clean Slate Ranch #1)(43)

Mack narrowed his eyes. “Come in.”

The cabin was bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outside with a small sitting area in the front that had two armchairs and a small table, plus a tiny nook that had a mini-fridge, a microwave and a fancy coffee machine. The back half of the cabin was separated by curtains, and a quick peek showed two twin beds on opposite walls, and a door in the rear that had to lead to the bathroom. The whole thing was cozy, quaint, and kind of reminded Wes of a college dorm. The air had an odd mix of coffee and musk to it that he inhaled deeply.

“I like your place,” Wes said. He wasn’t much for small talk on a hookup, but he paid compliments where deserved. A flash of gold caught his eye. On a high shelf, he spotted a plastic Oscar statue replica, the kind they sold in tourist shops up and down Hollywood Boulevard. He pointed. “Souvenir?”

“Something like that.” Mack snapped the door’s dead bolt into place, and anticipation rolled down Wes’s spine. “Want something to drink? I’ve got beer and bottled water.”

Wes had never been a fan of beer. “Water would be great, thanks.”

Mack fetched two chilled bottles from the fridge. He even earned gentleman points by twisting the cap off Wes’s before handing it over. Wes took a sip of the cold liquid, not really thirsty, but having a prop helped until he’d felt out the situation.

“Can I ask a personal question?” Wes ventured.

“Ask away. Don’t promise I’ll answer, though.”

“It’s not that bad, but I’m curious. How old are you?”

Mack stroked his short beard with his free hand. “How old do you think I am?”

He wanted to play guessing games? Fine. Wes raised his eyebrow, adopting what Sophie called his Spock face. “Forty-two?”

“Brat.” Mack swiped at him, but Wes dodged the playful smack. “I just turned thirty-four.”

“Just turned, as in today?”

“Last week.”

“Ooh, happy belated birthday. Does the birthday boy want a treat?”

“In a little bit. How old are you?”

Wes took a step closer. “Don’t I get to make you guess?”

“If I judged by your behavior, I’d have to guess twelve.”

“Ouch.” He slid into Mack’s personal space, loving the way the man’s nostrils flared. Mack’s scent washed over him, the mixed odors so incredibly masculine and intoxicating that Wes got light-headed. “Guess that makes me jailbait. Want me to leave?”

“Jesus.” Mack took his chin between his thumb and forefinger, the gentle hold keeping Wes still. “How old are you really, boss?”

Boss. Everything about that name turned Wes’s crank hard. “Thirty-one. Plenty legal, daddy.”

Mack’s nostrils flared again. “What are you into?”

“I don’t fuck on the first date, but I’m game for anything else.”

“Since when are we dating?”

Wes waggled his eyebrows. “Being alone in that ghost town was kind of romantic.”

“You’re demented.”

“So I’ve been told. I’m also negative, in case you were wondering.”

“Wasn’t wondering, but same. You kiss?”

Who the fuck doesn’t like to kiss?

Wes rolled the tongue stud over his upper teeth. “Oh, I think you’ll find I’m a very oral guy.”

Mack swooped down, his mouth covering Wes’s before he could draw a proper breath. The man kissed like he walked, with urgency and a strength that made Wes’s knees buckle. Big arms wrapped around Wes’s waist and hauled him forward, against Mack’s chest, and Wes surrendered. Mack’s tongue licked at his lips, then delved into his mouth, filling Wes’s senses with the scent and taste of the man.

Their groins crashed together, and holy damn, Mack was packing. Wes curled his fingers in the hair on Mack’s chest, loving the wiry texture. Eager to feel that against his own bare skin. Hell, he wanted them both naked as soon as possible. Except something...

Wes reluctantly tore his mouth free of Mack’s. “Roommate?”

“Gave us two hours.”

“Lucky us.” Wes groped Mack’s erection through his jeans. “This all for me?”

“If you think you can handle it.”

“Oh, daddy, the boss can handle it.” Wes bit Mack’s chin, then slid to his knees. Undid his belt and buckle, worked the fly open. The weight of the belt took Mack’s jeans to the floor, and Wes wasn’t at all surprised to find regular old boxer shorts tenting out to greet him. Mack threaded his fingers into Wes’s hair, but didn’t direct him. Simply held on.

Wes nuzzled at the firm length behind that thin layer of cotton, Mack’s scent so much stronger now. He didn’t usually get so turned on by man musk, but something about Mack made his mouth water. It was instinctive, almost primal.

“Easier to suck it when it’s out in the open,” Mack said.

“Keep up the commentary, and I’ll take my tongue stud out.”

Mack’s only reply was fingers tightening in his hair. Maybe Wes was a bottom, but he could be toppy as hell sometimes. And he got the impression Mack liked a challenge.

Wes tugged the waistband down a few inches, freeing only the head of Mack’s cock. A fat head that leaked a bit of clear fluid. He flicked his tongue out for a taste, teasing Mack’s slit, which got him a sharp hiss from Mack, so he took the tip of his cock between his lips. Kissed the head, then rubbed his stud across it.