Page 16

HARRY

“What am I doing?” I asked myself, standing in the shower, breathless and squeezing the last drops of cum from my thick, soap-slicked dick.

Ever since Dean had returned to town my libido was out of control. Fuck, I hadn’t masturbated this much since I was a teenager.

In the shower.

In my bed.

In the kitchen.

God, I even jerked off on the couch the night before while watching two male penguins spoon each other on National Geographic.

It wasn’t until I dressed and went downstairs that I sniffed the air and realized—“Oh shit, this whole house smells like jizz.” Which normally wouldn’t have been an issue except—“Oh fuck, Madeline’s coming over for dinner tonight!”

I yanked open the bathroom cupboards in search of a house deodorizer, a scented candle, anything that might mask the smell of excessive masturbation. Nothing. I opened all the doors and windows hoping a breeze might blow the stink of solo sex away, but there wasn’t a puff of wind in the air. I grabbed a newspaper and fanned the room, but it only seemed to spread the waft of wanking. I’d read once that serial killers masturbate up to seven times a day, and I panicked even more. “Jesus Christ, she’s going to think I’m Jeffrey Dahmer.”

I needed to buy something to take the smell away.

I also needed to buy—“Dinner! Shit! I’ve got nothing to cook for dinner.” I remembered Pascal’s new range of freshly baked pies. And Bud’s Blooms was next door. I called Gage and asked him to take care of the store. Only when I hung up did I notice the three missed calls on my phone, all from a number I didn’t know. I must have been too busy whacking off to hear the phone ring.

I ignored it, grabbed the keys to the truck, and left the house.

* * *

The moment I stepped into Pascal’s Patisserie , I felt a strange energy in the air. Customers seated at tables inside the café gossiped excitedly as Lonnie Larson, Benji’s mom, came rushing up to me, tucking her notepad and pen into the pocket of her waitress’s apron.

“Harry! Have you heard the news? Oh, you must have, you’ll no doubt be the one they need to cordon off the streets and help set up the stage.”

I shook my head, confused. “Cordon off the streets? Set up the stage? Lonnie, what on earth are you talking about?”

“You don’t know? There’s going to be a big rock concert, right here in Mulligan’s Mill. You know Dean Reeves, Andy’s son? He’s a big rock star now and he’s going to hold a concert in the park. They’re calling it ‘Dean’s Homecoming Concert.’”

The shock of the news made me physically queasy. “He’s doing what? When?”

“This Friday night. Apparently, tickets are almost sold out already. His fans will be pouring in from all over the country.”

“He can’t.”

Lonnie looked confused. “What do you mean, he can’t? Isn’t this what he does? Sing songs? Record albums? Perform concerts?”

“Yes, but… not here. He came here to get away from all that, not to bring it with him.”

“I guess he changed his mind. Now, what can I get you?”

Hurriedly I ordered a chicken and leek pie, then—based on recommendations from Bud himself who clearly knew the difference between a marigolden-girl and a real marigold—scooped up no less than four bunches of the most aromatic flowers I could find, before racing home, packing the food in the fridge and sitting the flowers in a sink full of water to keep them alive before returning to my truck and charging over to Andy’s.

When I pulled up out front, I saw that Andy’s truck was gone. He must have been out on a job, and I was thankful for that at least.

I ran to the front door and knocked on it loudly.

There was no answer.

I knocked again, even harder, and when there was no response, I raced around the side of the house, across the back yard and up to the door of Dean’s studio shed.

“Dean? Are you there?” I rapped my knuckles frantically on the door.

Dean pulled it open while I was still knocking.

He was standing there, wearing nothing but a towel he held around his slim waist, his firm young body shiny and wet.

“Harry?” he said. “Everything okay?”

“No. What’s this I hear about a concert? Are you seriously going to put on a concert… here… in Mulligan’s Mill?”

“Astrid called you, huh?”

“No.” I remembered the missed calls. “Maybe. Someone tried calling me.”

“That was Astrid. The concert’s her idea, and she’s moving full steam ahead with it. She’s already had the permits cleared through Sheriff Gates, then she was going to call you to go through the logistics. The AV production team arrives tomorrow. They want to start building the stage in the park first thing in the morning.”

“But… but… I thought you came here to take a break from all that. What happened to lying low? What happened to getting away from all the chaos and craziness of LA.? Not to mention, you have a stalker to worry about.”

He didn’t answer, at least not straight away. Instead, he reached forward, grabbed the front of my T-shirt, and pulled me into his studio, shutting the door behind me.

He sat me on his bed, then plonked himself beside me, still holding the ends of the towel at his waist. Shit, he hadn’t even tied it around him properly.

Not that it was time to think about Dean wearing nothing but a towel…

Still dripping wet from the shower…

His blond hair dangling in his eyes and his taut muscles gleaming.

No, now wasn’t the time for any of that.

The stalker! All I could think about at that moment was Dean’s stalker.

“He’s the main reason Astrid wants to hold the concert,” Dean explained. “She says it’s a chance to flush this creep out.”

“She wants to use you as bait to find your stalker?!”

He nodded nervously. “She’s hiring a bunch of private security guards to make sure—”

“No. I won’t allow it,” I stated in a stern, clear voice.

Dean’s lips curled into a smile. “You won’t allow it?”

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No! Not at all. You just sound so fucking gallant right now.”

“That’s because I don’t want anything to happen to you. This psycho could turn up with a knife or a gun, has Astrid thought about that? What happens then?”

“Hopefully that won’t happen. But if it does…” Gingerly he laid a hand on my thigh. “Then hopefully you’ll be there… to protect me.”

In a single moment, my body seemed to forget how to breathe.

I froze, my eyes locked on his, my every muscle motionless. For a second or two I was even certain my heart had actually stopped beating. Then he gave my thigh a gentle squeeze, and my heart made up for lost time by breaking into a drumroll.

I tried to remember how my voice worked.

“I… I…”

I didn’t do such a great job at it.

It didn’t matter anyway, because before I could stop myself, I found something better to do with my mouth than speak.

Without another moment’s hesitation, I planted my lips on Dean’s.

I was fully expecting him to push me away.

But I didn’t care.

I was done caring.

I wanted to kiss him—I had to kiss him—as urgently and passionately as I could, before this would surely end with me apologizing profusely and him shouting at me to get out, telling me he never wanted to see me again.

But one, two, three seconds passed, and the kiss was still happening.

Not only was it still happening, but Dean was kissing me back!

His tongue pushed passed my lips into my mouth.

His breath was hot and shuddering, escaping his flaring nostrils and warming my upper lip.

His fingers dug into my muscled thigh, as though he wanted to claw my jeans off then and there.

I was in shock.

I was confused.

I took his jaw in my hand and pulled him out of the kiss, my eyes wide and staring into his baby blues as I uttered, “What’s happening right now?”

“You tell me,” he whispered back. “Didn’t you kiss me ? Why did you kiss me?”

“Because… I couldn’t hold back a second longer. I’ve wanted to kiss you for years.”

He smiled. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for years. Couldn’t you tell? Wasn’t it obvious? Harry, you’re the hammer of my heart. You always have been. I just never thought you’d feel the same way.”

I laughed and let out a long, quivering sigh of relief. “I never thought you’d feel the same way either. But I guess you do.”

He laughed too. “I know I do.”

We pressed our lips together once again.

This time our hands got busy as well.

The hand he had on my thigh slid between my legs. His other hand reached for the back of my head, holding me in position so there was no way of pulling out of that kiss until he let me.

Meanwhile, I placed one hand on his bare back, my large hand sprawling across his muscles, fingers spreadeagled, feeling the rise and fall of his breath that trembled throughout his whole body. With my other hand, I dared to touch his towel, to let my hand rest against his thigh and slowly inch my way toward his crotch.

He groaned through our kiss and breathed into my mouth, “I want you to touch me. I want you to take me. I want you inside me so bad.”

My heartbeat quickened and air moved rapidly in and out through my nose.

He pressed my face harder against his, pushed his tongue farther down my throat like he wanted to choke me, devour me, consume me whole.

And I wanted him to.

It was permission enough for me to slide my hand beneath the towel, my rough fingers gliding over the smooth skin of his thigh until—

He gave a loud guttural groan as I found his hot hard cock.

I took it in my grip, squeezing it hard and he broke away from our kiss, threw his head back and cried out, “Oh fuck! Harry!”

Before I knew it, he had flung himself onto his back on the bed.

The towel was nothing but a tangled hindrance now.

I grabbed a corner of it and yanked it off him, hurling it across the room.

As it flapped to the floor, I stared down at the completely hard, naked, beautiful body splayed on the bed before me.

Dean ran his hands through his messy blond hair and gazed at me, grinning from ear to ear, nervous yet thrilled, his chest heaving, his legs spread wide, his perfect young cock long and hard and resting against his quivering abs, reaching all the way up to his navel.

“God, your gorgeous,” I breathed.

I wanted to touch him, I wanted to take him, just like he begged me to. But first, I just wanted to stare, to drink him in, to tell myself over and over again— no Harry, you’re not dreaming. This is actually happening. This is finally happening.

I stood from the bed.

I took the hem of my T-shirt in my hands and lifted it over my head, tossing it to the floor.

I pulled off my boots and socks, not losing eye contact with Dean for a single second as his cock flinched and slapped against his stomach, veins straining.

His fingers twirled through his hair.

His teeth bit down on his bottom lip.

He let the tiniest of groans of approval slip from his throat as I unbuckled my belt and whipped it off.

I opened the top button of my jeans, then pulled the zipper down over my bulge so fast I was amazed it didn’t catch on the cotton of my swollen jockey shorts.

With a shimmy of my hips I slid my jeans down to my ankles and kicked them off.

Dean laughed.

“What’s so funny?” I chuckled back.

His hands settled behind his head. “You and those dance moves of yours. They’re kinda hot.”

“They are?” I flashed a grin.

“Oh yeah. I’d love to see you up on a podium one of these days, dancing your heart out to a song.”

I dropped to my knees between his legs and said, “The only songs that get me moving are yours.”

He looked down the length of his body, past his rock-hard cock, eyes fixed on mine, breath tremulous again. “Is that true?”

“Um, actually, no. I don’t dance at all. I was just trying to be sexy.”

Dean bellowed with laughter, then said, “You don’t need to try. You are sexy. Harry, you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever met in my life.”

“I am? But I… I’m nobody. I’m just Harry.”

His smile faded, and in a faint, nervous voice he asked, “Will you be my Harry?”

A gush of air left my lungs.

I sucked in another, nodding, squatting down on my haunches and answering him by taking the base of his throbbing cock in one hand.

I pointed it upward, then positioned myself over it and breathed, “Yes. Oh, yes.”

I eyed the head of his handsome young cock. It bloomed brightly before me, blushing a beautiful bright pink, bulbous and proud and pushing crystals of pre-cum from its slit.

I opened my mouth wide, closed my eyes, and took him in.

He was warm and wet and oh-so sweet.

The mattress bounced a little as he threw his head back on it, while I began to take in more than just the crown of his cock. I tilted my head left and right, working my way down his shaft as I caressed the veined contours of his dick with my tongue. At the same time, I squeezed the base of his cock even harder in my grip, then began to twist my fist as I slid it halfway up the length of his mast to meet my mouth.

I sucked hard.

He groaned.

He spread his legs wider, and with my free hand I ran my fingers up his silky inner thighs until my index finger found his ass.

His groans turned to a series of grunts as my finger—then fingers —penetrated him, exploring his hot yearning passage, feeling his ass muscles loosen, tighten, loosen once more.

“Oh fuck,” he uttered, as though surrendering to me was his only option.

I sucked on his cock harder, faster.

My fingers delved deeper and deeper inside his ass.

His back arched.

His hips pushed themselves upward and with one hand he reached down and gripped my hair, forcing my head all the way down his cock.

His crown was full and throbbing against the back of my throat, almost gagging me.

I quickened my pace, sucking more furiously.

His loud, moan-filled panting fell in time with the motion of my mouth riding his cock, then turned to the hottest, most helpless whimpers I’d ever heard, as though he was almost begging for mercy.

“Uh… Uh… Oh God… I gotta come… please let me come!”

In response I sucked harder, faster, and soon his searing hot seed was surging into my mouth.

“Fuck!” he cried out, squeezing my hair as tight as he could and wrapping his legs around my shoulders. “Oh Harry! Jesus! Oh fuck! ”

His body jolted.

Every muscle seemed to convulse as his cum gushed into my mouth in waves, and all I could do was swallow.

I drank that boy down like I’d just stumbled across a desert oasis.

I gulped.

He whimpered.

I moaned.

He groaned. “Harry! Harry! Oh Harry!”

I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.

His body bucked on the bed once more as I squeezed the last of his cum out of him, washing it down my throat before sliding his strapping young dick out of my mouth and grinning with delight.

“Good?” I muttered, wiping my mouth with a back of my hand and smearing some stray cum into my beard.

He didn’t answer. He only said, “Take your fucking jocks off. I want you. I want you inside me. I need you inside me. Now!”

He stroked his dick, refusing to let his erection wane. Impressively, his cock remained as thick and hard as ever. He let it smack against his abs, giving his muscled gut a light spritzing of post-cum. God I hoped there was more where that came from.

As if he read my mind, he winked and said, “Don’t worry, there’s more where that came from.”

My heart fluttered and I licked my lips.

Quickly I stood, squaring off my shoulders, flexing my chest and letting the enormous bulge in my jockey shorts push against the fabric.

“Fuck,” whispered Dean. “What have you got in there, an anaconda?”

I didn’t say a word. I simply slid both my thumbs under the waistband and pushed my jocks down to my ankles, unleashing my slab of stiff, pulsing meat, roped with veins and already oozing pre-cum.

Dean’s eyes widened, whether in excitement or fear I couldn’t tell.

I kneeled on the bed.

I took his legs and hoisted them onto my hairy, boulder-like shoulders.

I was about to spit onto my palm before I remembered with a smile—“Peaches.”

I hurried into his bathroom to find his lube sitting on the counter.

“There are condoms in there too,” Dean called from the bed, before adding, “If any will fit.”

I chuckled, found the condoms, slid one onto my aching dick, then returned with the lube.

I resumed my previous position, kneeling between his legs, his ankles resting on my shoulders.

I slicked my dick with the lube and the scent of peaches filled the room.

I wet my fingers and slid them back into his ass, and suddenly Dean smelled like peaches too.

I set the bottle on his nightstand, took my cock in one hand, and pressed the palm of my other hand against his chest.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

He nodded silently.

“Just breathe easy. In and out.” His chest rose and fell under my palm. “In and out. In and—”

He cried out as I nudged the head of my cock inside him.

I stopped, he held his breath, and as he exhaled, I said, “And out.”

I pushed myself all the way inside him. “Dean? You okay?”

The veins on both sides of his neck bulged.

His eyes blinked frantically.

Then, with a calm and steady breath he nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.” A smile spread across his lips. “I’m better than good. I’m great.”

Slowly, carefully, I eased my cock out of him, not quite all the way. Then gently I pushed my way inside him again.

His passage had relaxed a little more, and I felt less resistance this time.

I slid inside him again and again.

He scrunched the sheets in his fists, but I could feel the tension slowly leaving his body as he welcomed my cock, over and over.

I increased my rhythm, my thrusts growing faster.

With one hand he grabbed his own stiff cock in his fist and began stroking it roughly. “Take me,” he uttered. “Fuck me. Harder!”

I repositioned myself on my knees. I lifted his ass higher and began pounding him, my desire for him hungry and untamed now.

I wanted him to feel the heat of my cum as I filled the condom.

I wanted him to come all over his chest and stomach, I wanted to see how far he could shoot his load.

I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

The thought of it made me grunt with delight and pump his firm young body even harder. He groaned louder, a signal that he was about to come again.

My chest swelled.

My balls were ready to explode.

And then, with a guttural noise that sounded like it came from a dangerous animal, I cried out, “Fuck! I’m coming! I’m…”

Dean released the sheets, and one hand shot toward my nipple, twisting it hard.

It was more than enough to tip me over the edge.

“God! Fuck!” I roared.

I threw my head back, and with that I felt the rush of cum fill the head of the condom.

In the same moment, Dean cried out again.

I glanced down to see him unleash his second wave of semen, the white fluid splashing up his chest, spattering over his neck, and spooling onto his chin and lips.

Watching the impressive trajectory made even more cum gush from my dick into the condom.

Tremors rocked my body and I shuddered uncontrollably.

I took Dean’s narrow hips in my hands and thrust myself inside one last time, my pelvis locking against his ass cheeks as the last of my seed left my body, hot and swirling in the head of the condom.

Our panting and gasps began to ease as his body melted against the bed and I gently retreated from his passage, one final wince pinching up his face as I slowly pulled out.

My large hairy chest still heaving, I collapsed onto the bed beside him.

I gazed adoringly over his cum-covered body as I rolled the condom halfway up my still hard cock and slid it off. I fully intended for my cum to spill out of it, watching it ooze over my gut and mat my thick stomach fur. I swirled my fingers through it, then reached over and stroked Dean’s chest with my shiny fingers, mixing our seed together.

“That feels good.” He smiled, then leaned his face close and kissed me.

When he pulled back, his fingers joined mine in mixing our semen, then he lifted his fingers to his lips and licked them clean.

With our cum on his lips he kissed me again and I could taste the cocktail of our lovemaking, at once sweet and salty.

We kissed for what felt like an eternity of bliss, before laying our heads on the bed and staring into each other’s eyes.

“My beautiful boy,” I whispered, touching my fingers to his cheek.

“My handsome Harry.” He smiled back at me, stroking my beard with his thumb.