Page 28 of Return to Telegraph Creek

“I reckon.”

“I’d sure love to taste it.”

Oscar pulled back and gave me a stern look.

“Now, Jimmy…”

“Or maybe you could climb up onto this stand I got here and”—I inhaled an unsteady breath, desperate all of a sudden—“fuck yourself on’t?”

Chapter Nine

A Frustrated Patient

The expression on Oscar’s face transformed into shock then amusement, before returning to severe.

“Stop it, now,” he said, but his breath hitched.“Miss June asked me not to make you exert yourself in any capacity, and I reckon I know what she meant.”

“Oscar, I feel fine.It barely hurts ’tall.”I protested, which was a falsehood, but the need to bury myself in Oscar was overriding any of the pain I still felt, which had diminished quite a bit—or else I’d got used to it.

“Jimmy,” he said, speaking to me like I was a child, which was an amusing turnaround for us.“I am more than willin’ to bring you off with my hand, but that’s all I can give you right now.You want it or not?”

I swallowed.

“Sure I do.”

“Well then, I’m gonna latch the door so nobody disturbs us.”

“All right.”

Oscar walked to the door and slid the latch shut as I gazed at where the long shirt sloped along his buttocks and ended at the midst of his slim thighs, wishing I could fuck him like that.I’d have to do it someday, when I was in tiptop shape and not a shadow of myself.

When he turned back, he must have seen the raw need in my gaze.

“Christ, you’re gettin’ me hard with the way you’re lookin’ at me.”

“Good.If not for this damn injury and Miss June’s interferin’, I’d be tuppin’ you by now.”

“Oh!”he said.“My, my, my… Pretty sure of yourself, ain’t you, mister?”

At Oscar’s use of that particular honorific, I was transported back to the first night in the hotel, when he’d been so argumentative and ornery, and I hadn’t even realized how much I’d wanted him.I’d had no reference point for those feelings, and I’d figured I was horny for anything since I’d lost my chance to rent a nice whore for an hour.But, looking back on it now, I know ’twas simply Oscar and the way he affected me, the way he’d done so from the moment I’d met him.

He sat beside me on the bed, with one leg crossed o’er the other, and kissed me sweetly before pushing the bedclothes down, exposing my randy cock in all its ruddy glory, rising out of the thatch of dark curls at my groin.Then he took something out of his shirt pocket and showed it to me.

“I got this from Trick.”

He took the top off the little bottle of oil and poured some into his hand, then replaced the cap and put it on the bedside table.He rubbed his hands together to warm them up then reached for me.

I watched with hooded eyes as he wrapped his long and delicate fingers, shiny with oil, around my cock and stroked me up and down, slowly at first, making me shudder and groan with the exquisite torture of it.

“Oscar,” I moaned.

“Now, Jimmy, you be a good boy for me and don’t come till I say.”

I gave him a narrow-eyed glare.“Now, hold on.I ain’t your good boy.You’remygood boy.”

He raised his eyebrows and gave my cock a long stroke in a corkscrew motion that made my lips part and a sound escape me.

“Oh, really?Why?Are you gonna be mynaughtyboy, then?”