Page 15 of Hollis (The Moore Men #2)

Nine

Ford

S taring at my phone on the counter, where it’s taunting me, I bring the half-empty bottle of beer up to my mouth, finishing the rest of it in one go.

I’ve got work in the morning and should’ve stopped drinking a while ago, but a little liquid courage felt necessary for what I want to do—what I’ve wanted to do since the night before last, actually.

So, after I toss the empty bottle in the trash, I retrieve another from the fridge, twist off the cap, and take a long, slow pull, letting the cool, crisp beverage roll down my throat.

Setting it on the counter, I flatten my palms against the countertop, my gaze fixed on the phone in front of me as I muster up the courage to grab it and open the app I’ve avoided for the last forty-eight hours, and tell KnockinBoots , or Hollis, what I want.

If I feel like shit in the morning because of it, then so be it. Hopefully, it’ll be worth it.

I want to do this. But more than that, I think I need to do this. For clarity. And maybe a little rousing curiosity too. Ever since he sent that message the other night suggesting we send each other dirty pictures of ourselves, I swear my heart rate hasn’t settled.

Did I slightly panic and close out of the app in a hurry? Yes.

But in my defense, the station got called out to a warehouse fire not long after that, so I couldn’t have responded even if wanted to. There’s no valid excuse for the last day since my shift ended, other than plain old cowardice.

Hence the need for liquid courage.

Taking one more swig, I swipe the phone off the countertop and pull up the app before I talk myself out of it.

I don’t even give myself the opportunity to reread the last message sent before typing out one of my own.

I don’t have to… The words are burned into my mind.

They’ve been on a constant loop behind my eyes every time I close them.

FireInMyVeins: Deal.

As soon as I press send, I drop the phone like it burned me and guzzle some more beer.

My heart thunders against my ribs and my stomach twists into tiny knots that make me nauseous.

I can’t decide which outcome would be worse; Hollis responding or him ignoring the message all together.

Considering this isn’t the first time I’ve gone silent on the guy, the latter is probably just as likely.

Luckily, I don’t have to wait long to find out.

A moment later, the screen lights up with a new message.

The nausea and heart pounding kick into overdrive, and paired with the handful of beers running through my system, it causes my head to swim.

But like before, I don’t give myself a chance to overthink or talk myself out of it.

KnockinBoots: That so? *smirk emoji*

Not for the first time, I imagine what he’s doing when he messages me.

Is he wearing the smirk he so often gives me through text?

What’s he wearing? If he knew who I was, would he find me attractive?

I give those questions a voice for another minute longer before shoving them out of my mind and thumbing out a reply.

FireInMyVeins: If the offer still stands, then yes.

KnockinBoots: Oh, it absolutely still stands.

A flicker of heat shoots down my spine. I set the phone on the counter and take another swig off the bottle, my palms sweaty and my hands trembling.

This is silly, the visceral way my body is responding to him.

This is Hollis. A man I’ve known for years, a man who, up until recently, I’ve never thought twice about.

Sure, I’ve always thought he was an attractive guy, but never in a sexual way.

KnockinBoots: Kinda like knowing you’ve been thinking about this since the other night.

FireInMyVeins: Who says I’ve been thinking about it since then? Maybe it just crossed my mind, so I decided to respond.

KnockinBoots: HA! I don’t believe that for a second, baby. I want you to admit it. Admit how turned on you’ve been because of me and the things I’ve said. Admit it, or no deal.

Fuck. Why am I so damn nervous?

Well, probably because I have no idea what I’m doing.

This whole thing—flirting, enjoying having someone flirting with me—is something I haven’t experienced in way too long.

I’m out of practice and he’s effortless with it.

Not knowing what I’m doing, or what I should say, or how I should act terrifies me.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve prided myself on being the best I can be at everything I do.

When I decided to become a firefighter and join the academy, I lost countless hours of sleep studying my ass off, wanting to be the best damn cadet the academy has ever seen.

Then when I joined the force, I kept studying, kept asking questions, kept learning.

I don’t do well with the unknown, which is ironic, given my career is quite literally walking into the unknown with every call we respond to, but that feels different.

I know how to be a firefighter. I know how to put out even the worst of fires.

I don’t know how to do this , and what if I make a complete fool out of myself?

Say something that’s the opposite of sexy or flirty or smooth?

Finishing off the rest of my beer, I toss it in the trash and grab another, ignoring the part of my brain telling me I’m going to feel like shit in the morning. What do I really have to lose? If I say something embarrassing, who cares? It’s not like I’ll have to face him after this.

Okay, I will , but he won’t know it.

Fuck it.

FireInMyVeins: Okay, yes. The things you’ve said have turned me on. You’ve turned me on.

KnockinBoots: Good boy. *smirk emoji* Now, was that so hard?

Yes.

But also, good boy… What the hell?

Do I like that?

No, of course not. Although… rereading the message, I can’t exactly say I hate it either.

KnockinBoots: Have you touched your cock thinking about me?

Another bolt of arousal spreads through my groin like wildfire. My cheeks heat, and my heartbeat roars in my ears.

FireInMyVeins: Yes.

KnockinBoots: *hot face emoji* Describe it to me.

Describe it to him? God, this is awkward .

FireInMyVeins: I jacked off in the shower a couple times.

KnockinBoots: Come on… Try again. You can do better than that.

Nothing to lose, Ford. You’ve got nothing to lose, so just do it.

FireInMyVeins: Fine. As I stood under the faucet, letting the hot water slide down my back, I imagined your hands roaming over my body instead of the water.

I imagine your palms are probably calloused from years of hard work, giving a roughness to your touch.

And each time I stood in the shower with this thought in my mind, I realized how much I wanted it to be a reality.

KnockinBoots: What’d you do after realizing that?

FireInMyVeins: I wrapped my hand around my stiff cock and pumped myself from base to tip, letting my eyes close as my head rolled back onto my shoulders.

The fantasy played behind my eyelids—behind me, your breath hot against my neck as your hand came around and fisted my cock.

In my mind, you stroked me slowly at first, but it didn’t last. Your grip tightened, your fist flying up and down my cock with a desperation we’re both feeling.

With my head resting on your shoulder, you pressed your lips to my neck, nibbling on the flesh.

My hips would be thrusting into your tight, rough fist. Then I imagined you bringing your other hand up to the front of my throat, holding me and applying a little bit of pressure.

And at that point, lost it. Warmth spread through my veins and my balls tightened up.

My release barreled through me and my cock throbbed as hot, thick cum spurt out of me, dripping down the wall until it reached the bottom of the tub, the water washing it down the drain .

Hitting send, I drop the phone on the counter again and take a step back, my stomach clear in my throat as I thrust my fingers into my hair.

Holy shit. I can’t believe I sent all that.

My chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, heart pounding harder as a mix of adrenaline, nerves, and desire floods my system.

The buzzing of his response fills the otherwise silent kitchen, and I grab my phone without a second thought.

A blurred-out picture appears on the screen.

KnockinBoots: I knew you had it in you, baby. *smirk emoji* Look how turned on you have me already.

With a shaky hand and blood roaring in my ears, I tap the option to reveal the image.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess what it is, but knowing and seeing are two very different things.

The organ in my chest catapults against my ribs and a tingly ache settles deep in my balls as my eyes take in the raunchy picture.

My mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock.

Hollis’s hard cock. It’s long and thick, with a bead of pre-cum dripping from the tip and glistening against what looks to be blue LED lights illuminating the otherwise dark room he’s in.

He’s not circumcised, a thick layer of foreskin blanketing most of the crown.

And there’s a tattoo of a cowboy hat near the base.

When we first started talking, he hinted at having one, but I didn’t think he really did, but there it is… Wow. Fuck, my mouth waters. This is so wrong. I shouldn’t be looking at Hollis’s dick, and I really shouldn’t be imagining what he would taste like as I licked up his sticky arousal.

My heart leaps into my throat when another message comes through.

KnockinBoots: Your turn.

Right… my turn.