The 51st Thursday Read Online Free PDF Page B

stand. He needed more. He took the soap back and as Shelby raised his leg, Deacon cupped his ass, massaging him with the bar until he was slick. He gasped in surprise when Deacon eased a finger inside him. His mouth grew tight against Deacon's. "Easy, baby, you're tight, Christ, I could come just thinking about how tight you are."
    Deacon stroked him slowly, sliding his finger in just a little deeper with each stroke while he humped him. Shelby's cock seemed to grow longer as he rocked against him, the slick, soapy friction making him pant. "Slide your finger inside me, Thursday, yeah, just like that, yeah, baby, that feels nice, now a second." He hissed when Shelby pressed a second finger inside him, ramming into him with short, frenzied strokes that had him sweating.
    Shelby's mouth found a tender spot on his neck, and then he felt the sharp sting of teeth. Shelby's arm grew tight around Deacon's back, pulling him closer. He drove his fingers deep inside him, forcing Deacon to his rhythm, taking control. "I like the feel of your balls slapping mine. I've never felt anything like this."
    "Shelby..." Deacon couldn't think of anything to say to that. He buried his face in his neck fighting the need to come, but the friction against his belly and in his ass had him spinning past the point. "Fuck me, baby, god, just like that." He wrapped his arms around Thursday's shoulders, letting him take control. Teeth grazed his neck again, soft lips touched his cheek, long supple fingers rammed into him deeper, flexing inside him.
    "Deacon..." he breathed against his ear, his breath hot, his cock rigid against his belly. It was all Deacon needed to send him over the edge. Shelby pumped against him, heat slathering his skin as he bit him, crying out against his neck. Deacon couldn't stop the roar that echoed off the concrete walls as he added his own scalding heat to the mix. "Shit, Deacon, shit."
    Deacon agreed silently just as the hot water ran out.
     
     

 

     

     
    Chapter Four
    "How old are you?" Shelby sat on Deacon's bed, his back against the brick wall and a sheet wrapped around his body. Deacon lay on his stomach, his back bare, his breathing slow and even.
    "I'll be forty in December. How old are you?" There was sleep in his voice and his eyes when he angled his head to look up at him.
    "Thirty-three. I'll be thirty-four in February. I thought you were younger until you mentioned Desert Storm. I was in middle school during that."
    "Sorry to disappoint you." Deacon rolled onto his side and lay his head on his arm. "How much younger?"
    "Thirty-five, maybe, I don't know. What's it like being a father? Do your kids know...?"
    "That I like men?" He smiled then, his eyes soft in the dim light. "God, I hope not. I don't want them knowing I like women either, or sex or beer. I try to keep my sordid little life to myself when it comes to them. And anyone else I'm not currently fucking."
    "So you really are bisexual?"
    "Pretty much. I lean toward men, though, if I have to be honest. Mostly because I don't want any strings. I don't want more children, I don't want the white picket fence, I want to run my bar, ride my motorcycle, and sleep with whoever is willing. I bet that sounds wrong to you."
    "Sounds nice actually. I've never really been free to be who I want to be. Too many expectations. First, football. I had to be the best. My dad paid trainers to make me the best, starting from the time I was old enough to hold the damned ball. I went to private schools with big football programs, then to his alma mater. I went to law school because it was expected of me, I married the girl they wanted me to marry. We moved to Mobile to expand his firm, and he made Holly and me partners. The only flaw in that was the infertility. At least that's what she chose to tell them. She didn't like sex. Or me. Sometimes I wonder if the baby was mine. We bought a house in West Mobile. We just closed on it when she was killed. After that I just went