Page 25 of Fire Me Up (Front Range Motorcycle Collective #2)
Dylan
T wo months later.
“ Don’t tell me. You don’t know what to do in Vegas because you also never took vacations?” I sprawled across the king-sized bed, scrolling through texts from Lennox about meeting up later, while
“ What?” Gael asked, looking up at me. “No, not really.” Gael was doing something on his phone, angled just enough that I couldn’t see the screen. With any other guy, I would have been suspicious, but Gael was… Gael.
“ You’re really focused on that phone. You’re not adopting another cat, are you?” I asked.
“ What? No!” He frowned. “Wait, would the landlord let us have two cats? I wonder how Bacon would adjust.”
E ight weeks into officially being boyfriends, and he still found ways to make my stomach flip with anticipation and just a touch of dread. This trip to Las Vegas was Silas’s idea — a retreat for the whole FRMC crew on the five-year anniversary of the founding of the collective.
A nd to my surprise, a few random friends had been invited to join us, too, including my younger brother, who was now a regular, even though he still had never ridden a bike.
Gael’s sisters had come too; Liv because she was part of the FRMC, and Marisol, because she couldn’t resist a free hotel stay.
A nd even Gael had been persuaded to take a few days off. He was slowly getting better about work-life balance. And, of course, he’d brought Bacon along.
P art of me worried he was about to wake up and realize I wasn’t worth the trouble.
“ So, Vegas. Should we go see a show? Hit the casinos?”
“ Uh huh,” Gael said absently.
“ What are you doing over there?” I asked, eyeing him suspiciously as he grinned at his phone.
G ael looked up, his smile wickedly playful. “Nothing important.”
“ Bullshit.” I propped myself up on my elbows. “You’ve been glued to that thing since we got back from dinner.”
H e locked his screen and tossed the phone onto the bedside table, face down, with exaggerated innocence. “Just making plans.”
“ What kind of plans?” The question came out sharper than I intended, that old fear creeping in—the one that whispered paranoid thoughts in my head.
“ The good kind.” Gael crossed to the bed and planted a kiss on my forehead that somehow managed to be both reassuring and frustratingly vague. I reminded myself of how wholesome Gael was, of how easygoing he was.
O f how much he loved me.
B acon chose that moment to leap onto the bed, his chunky orange body landing with a soft thud before he stretched out across the pristine white duvet like he owned the place. He’d adjusted to hotel life with impressive ease, treating every new room like his personal kingdom.
“ He’s made himself right at home,” I said, scratching behind Bacon’s ears. The cat purred loudly, leaning into my touch with shameless enjoyment.
G ael grinned. “Helps that you bought him a cat tower. For the hotel room.”
I blushed, glancing over at the cat tower in the corner. “It’s only practical.”
“ Yes, a seven-foot cat tower is super practical. Especially when we arrived on motorcycles.”
“ If he likes it, we’ll figure out how to get it back home. If he doesn’t, we’ll donate it to a local shelter. Either way, he doesn’t scratch up the furniture. Saves money on damage deposits.”
“ Right,” Gael said, eyes sparkling. “Damage deposits. You’re not at all worried about Bacon being happy?”
“ He’s a cat, Gael. Why would I worry about him being happy?”
“ So… you’re petting him because…”
I looked down at my hand, which had somehow unconsciously made my way to Bacon’s special spot on the side of his neck.
“ Fine. I kind of like Bacon. Happy?”
G ael beamed. “You love him. Like you love me!” He leaned down and kissed me fiercely.
I swallowed hard. Eight weeks of being officially together, of waking up tangled in each other, of planning our future in Denver, and part of me still couldn’t believe it was real.
“ We should probably start getting ready,” I said, changing the subject before my emotions got the better of me. “Aiden’s already texted twice asking where we are.”
“ In a minute.” Gael moved to the closet, pulling out two pairs of shorts. “Which ones should I wear tonight?”
I sat up, expecting to see his usual basketball shorts or maybe the black ones that hugged his thighs. Instead, he held up a pair of jean shorts in one hand and, in the other, the tiniest, pinkest shorts I’d ever seen.
“ Where the fuck did those come from?”
G ael grinned, examined the ripped denim shorts, then held up the pink ones.
“Liv helped me shop. She said I should get some more colorful clothes to get into the Vegas Spirit.” He turned around, showing me his perfect firefighter ass, looking back over his shoulder with a knowing smile. “Was she right?”
“ Pink, definitely pink.”
G ael’s smile widened. He turned back to face me, setting the shorts down and stripping off his t-shirt in one fluid motion. His muscles rippled under golden skin as he reached for his belt buckle, maintaining eye contact the entire time.
“ You’re staring,” he said.
“ You’re stripping.”
“ Just changing for the club.” He slid his jeans down his legs, revealing black boxer briefs that clung to every perfect curve. He stepped out of the jeans and picked up the pink shorts, stepping into them and pulling them up over his thighs.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he fastened the shorts. They were even smaller than I’d imagined—tight across his thighs, hugging his ass, the hem barely covering the curve where perfect ass met thickly muscled thigh. He turned around, and I groaned at the sight.
“ Fuck, Gael.” I pushed myself off the bed, crossing to him in three quick strides. I slid my hands into the back pockets of those ridiculous shorts, pulling him against me. “You can’t wear these in public.”
“ Why not?” He pressed his hips forward, grinding against my obvious erection.
“ Because I’ll end up arrested for public indecency when I bend you over the nearest flat surface and fuck this adorable ass.” I squeezed his ass through the thin fabric, and he squirmed for me.
“ That’s the point.” Gael leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. “Wanted you thinking about fucking me all night.”
“ All night? Or immediately?” I spun him around and shoved him toward the bed, pushing him down face-first. Bacon made a grumpy sound and jumped off, finding a new perch on the cat tree. I tugged the tiny shorts down just enough to expose his ass. “Fuck, look at you.”
G ael pressed his ass back against me, his face turned to the side on the mattress as he arched his back and pushed his cute ass up into the air like a little slut. “Been thinking about this all day. Riding on the back of your motorcycle nearly did me in.”
I fumbled for the lube in my bag beside the bed, nearly knocking everything over in my haste. My phone buzzed again—Aiden, Cash, or Lennox wondering where we were—but I ignored it, focused entirely on the sight of Gael spread out before me.
“ Better prep you properly,” I said, slicking my fingers.
G ael laughed, the sound low and dirty. “Already did.”
O f course, he had. I slid a finger between his cheeks to confirm, finding him already slick and open. The thought of him prepping himself, stretching his hole while thinking of me, nearly made me come in my pants like a teenager.
I unzipped my jeans, pushing them down just enough to free my cock. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
I slicked myself quickly, then pressed the head of my cock against his entrance. He pushed back, taking me in one smooth motion that left us both gasping. The tight heat of him enveloped me, so delicious I had to pause to keep from coming immediately.
“ Move,” Gael demanded, rocking his hips. “Need you to fuck me, Dylan.”
I gripped his hips and gave him what he wanted, setting a pace that had the headboard knocking against the wall. Each thrust pulled sounds from him that I wanted to record and play back when I needed reminding that this incredible man wanted me—all of me, chaos and intensity included.
M y phone buzzed again on the nightstand, but I was beyond caring. All that mattered was Gael—the solid warmth of him beneath me, the way he pushed back to meet each thrust, the little catch in his breath when I hit just the right spot.
“ Touch yourself,” I commanded, leaning over to press my chest against his back. “Want to feel you come on my cock?”
G ael groaned, shifting his weight to reach beneath himself. I felt the exact moment his hand wrapped around his cock—his whole body tensing, his hole clenching around me in a way that made stars explode behind my eyelids.
“ Fuck, Dylan, I’m close,” he panted, his voice raw and desperate. “Oh god, I love your cock in me so much.”
“ Come for me,” I urged, increasing my pace, driving into him harder, deeper. “Let me feel you.”
H is body tensed beneath mine, a broken moan escaping him as he came. The rhythmic pulsing of his ass around my cock pulled me over the edge with him. I buried myself deep, emptying inside him with a groan that I muffled against his shoulder.
F or a long moment, we stayed like that, both catching our breath. I pressed soft kisses to the back of his neck, the curve of his shoulder, overwhelmed by the tenderness that always followed our most intense moments.
“ So,” Gael said when I finally pulled out, “pink shorts were a good choice?”
I laughed, falling onto the bed beside him. “Fuck yes.” I reached for my phone, wincing at the barrage of texts from our friends. “We should probably let them know we’re running late.”
G ael glanced at the mess we’d made of the bed, of ourselves, and grinned. “Worth it.”
I pulled him close for a kiss, soft and sweet after the frantic pace of our fucking. “Always worth it with you.”
A nd in that moment, with Gael’s body warm against mine and Bacon purring contentedly in his cat tree, I almost believed that this happiness could last—that I could have this, have him, without the other shoe dropping.