Page 14 of Preacher Man
And my house was just down the road.
It started as a flicker.An idea.A whisper.
Take him there.
Show him what it feels like to be wanted.
Let him feel safe, then make him beg to be ruined.
I bit the inside of my cheek and tried to talk myself down.Ethan wasn’t some hookup.He wasn’t just another pretty face.He was complicated and repressed and—God help me—he was turning me on more than anyone ever had.
Would it be so bad?
To just see what happened if I got him inside my house?
I hit the turn without fully deciding.The dirt road crunched under the tires as I drove us onto the path that led to my ranch house.My heart was hammering, sweat prickling at my temples.
“Where are we going?”Ethan called over the rumble of the engine.His voice was cautious.Curious.Maybe even a little hopeful.
I didn’t answer.
Because if I opened my mouth, I’d say something filthy.
Instead, I prayed to any God still listening that my hard-on would calm down before we got there.Nope.My dick was stubborn and insistent, practically a damn homing beacon for preacher flesh.And now, as we rolled to a stop under the shade of the old pecan tree beside the house, I realized I had a new problem.
How the hell was I supposed to get off the bike without Ethan seeing just how painfully turned on I was?
I shifted in my seat.That only made it worse.My cock was rock solid, straining against denim like it had a personal vendetta.I sat there for a second, trying to breathe, trying to will it down.
No luck.
Ethan moved behind me, shifting like he was about to climb off.“Where… are we?”
I sighed and swung one leg off the bike, staying turned away from him like a coward.“My place,” I mumbled.“Thought maybe we could stop for a bit.Cool off.Get a beer.”
Casual.Cool.Like I wasn’t half a second from losing my goddamn mind.
I kept my back to him, hands on my hips, staring at the dusty driveway like it held the secrets of the universe.Please, I begged silently, don’t look down.
But then I thought—fuck it.
He made me hard.Let him see it.
So I turned around.
Slow.Intentional.
And there he was, mid-dismount, one leg over the bike, arms still braced on the seat.He froze the second he saw me.
Ethan’s eyes dropped.
Locked on my crotch.
And damn if that didn’t make me harder.
I didn’t flinch.Didn’t hide.I just stood there, hips tilted slightly forward, cock outlined so clearly you could probably read the stitching on my briefs.
I let him stare.Let him feel that tension coil in the air like lightning.
