Page 104 of The Lineman

“Your musky scent drives me crazy.”

“Oh, really? So no showering after the gym next time?”

“God, no. I want you reeking.”

“You’re a sick man, Mike Albert.”

“I’m putting lube on my finger.”

The sound of shifting sheets rustled over my speaker. “Fuck, yeah. Tease that hole.”

“I’m back there. It’s an awkward . . . oh . . . got it.”

“Are you in?”

“Yeah,” I moaned. “Oh, yeah. God, my cock just got rock hard.”

“Stroke it for me.”

“Fuck, I am.”

His breathing grew heavy. “What are you doing with that finger?”

“Sliding it in and out.”

“Shove it deeper. Feel it hit—”

“God damn it, El. I think I poked my prostate.”

He growled. “Do it again.”

“Oh, shit!”

“Stroke yourself.”

“I am. And . . .”

“And?”

“I’m adding another finger.”

“Oh yeah, baby. Spread it wide. That’s my hole.”

I was too dazed by the electricity shooting through my body to focus on him claiming my ass, but the idea of it added to the thrill.

“It’s in . . . fuck . . . they’re in. I can’t go as deep, but I’m . . . stretching . . . so good.”

“Mike, fuck, I want to be there, to feel you, to kiss you.”

“Kiss me, El. I want your tongue again. Fuck, I miss you so much.”

“Stroke yourself faster. I’m getting close.”

“I’m stretching back, trying to get my fingers deeper. Shit, I need a toy for this. Oh! Damn it, El! I’m—”

“Don’t you fucking come without me! Hold on.”

The rustling grew louder, punctuated by groans and grunts and the sliding of slicked-up skin against skin.

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