In The Absence Of Light (21 page)

Morgan shrugged. Between the darkness of the cab and the tilt of his head, I couldn’t tell if he was looking at the screen or out the passenger window.

I picked at the clear coat on the steering wheel. I really needed to get a cover for the thing. There was a hole in the seat next to my thigh I’d never noticed. At least there wasn’t a spring sticking out. Yet.

“You’re bored,” Morgan said.

Since lying was out of the question. “A little.”

Morgan’s shoulders fell. I was just about to apologize when he said, “Me too.”

The horse ran around on the screen. Characters talked. The dialog came over the speaker in chunks broken apart by white noise.

We stared out the windshield.

“So,” I said. “You want to do something else?”

“Yeah.”

“Got anything in mind?” Was there even anything open this time of night besides Toolies?

“Wanna make out?”

On the screen, a boy chased a horse.

Make out? I tried to remember the last time I’d done that and couldn’t. Which made me feel old. And damn it, I was not old.

“Sure,” I said.

Morgan was across the seat straddling my thighs before I could blink. He sank his hands in my hair and attacked my mouth. His hot wet tongue slid between my lips. Instantly hard, instantly desperate, I cupped his ass and rocked against him.

“Fucking hell.” I barely got a breath in to say the words before he was on my mouth again.

Morgan yanked on my shirt, freeing it from the waist of my pants. The heat of his touch slid inside my jeans.

“I want you.” He opened the button and then pulled down the zipper. “I want you, Grant. Right now.”

Yeah, yeah, I wanted him too. The fact we were inside a truck seemed insignificant.

I lifted my hips so Morgan could get my jeans down my thighs. My knee hit the steering wheel. I fumbled to find the lever to adjust it. With Morgan in front of me, it felt impossible. Then it was there, a button on the bottom side. I flipped it, and the steering wheel went up. It gave Morgan enough room to lean back.

His skillful hands released my cock.

I barked out a cry, and he drank it from my lips. With just a few pumps of his hand, the ache in my balls condensed.

Morgan dragged his teeth along my jaw to my ear. He bit down on the lobe. It wasn’t a gentle bite either, but an act of hungry desperation.

The urge to come was almost too much. I fought with his jeans, got them open. Commando, he was commando. Why the fuck was that so hot? I gripped his cock and precum painted my wrist as he thrust into the tunnel of my fist.

“Need more,” he whimpered. God that sound, that fucking sound. Helpless, hot, wanting, and yet in control.

I stroked faster.

“No, no, not that.” He pressed his body to mine, making it impossible for me to move my hand.

“Morgan…” Closer and my cock slid along the cleft of his ass.

“I want you to fuck me, Grant.”

“Ah, damn it. Damn it…” He had to go and say those words. Like that. As if I wasn’t already on the brink.

“No room.”

“Plenty of room.”

“No condoms.”  I sucked at his throat. The soap he’d used flavored his skin.

“Front… right… pocket.”

“Lubricant.”

“Left pocket.”

“You planned this?” I dug through Morgan’s pocket. Like I really cared if he did.

“Always prepared, Grant. Boy Scout code.”  He tweaked my nipples hard enough to make me drop the strip of condoms.

“Fuck.” I stuck my hand down the gap between the seat and the door.  My fingertips brushed the edge of the foil package.

Apparently I was moving too slow. Morgan got the small bottle of lubricant out of his pocket. While I was trying to snag the strip of condoms, there was a snick and burp.

I pinched one of the foil squares between my middle fingers and retrieved them. Morgan was already up on his knees with his hand behind his back. The wet sound of his fingers sliding in and out of his ass was way more interesting than the static ridden dialog from the movie we were supposed to be watching.

“There’s not enough room.”

The changing colors on the big screen highlighted him in red, blues, white, then yellows and greens. Like his beautiful glass sculptures, the bits of broken light danced. I could have jerked myself off to the sight of him.

“Gotta get your pants off.” I tugged, but with his legs spread wide, there was no way.

I tried to lift him up, and his ass hit the horn. It gave one sharp blare before he scooted forward and over my dick.

“This isn’t going to work.”

“Shut up, Grant.” Morgan leaned back, raised his legs, and bent his knees. His shins wound up pressed against my chest. This was never going to work. Then he planted one hand on the door and his elbow on the wheel. My cock slid along his oil-slicked cleft. The puckered skin of his hole rubbed the head. “You gotta help me here, Grant.”

I wasn’t even going to ask how he could possibly be comfortable rolled up like a spit ball. After all, this was a man who could suck his own cock.

I scooted lower in my seat, braced my feet against the floorboard, and got a hand under him. The infinitesimal space made it almost impossible to maneuver.

“Now, Grant.”

I found his entrance with my fingers and used them to line up my cock.

Morgan made a high-pitched keening sound. “Grant, for god’s sake.”

“I’m trying, trust me.” My attempts to angle were either too high or too low. Then I was right there—fucking hell he was tight. The heat of his body enveloped me. I lifted my hips, readjusting the angle, and sank to the hilt into his ass.

“Holy shit.” A tremor ran down my legs.

“Don’t you dare come, yet.”

Intense, why the hell was it so much more intense?

Morgan used his arms to lift his body, gaining a few inches then coming back down on me. That one stroke was all I needed. Who gave a fuck why it felt so good?

I locked a hand on Morgan’s shoulder, the other on his hip. Between the seat at my back and my feet on the floorboard, I was able to get enough leverage to pop my hips.

We found a rhythm, however awkward, and I pounded him as hard as I could. Morgan bounced on my lap with his head back and mouth open, singing that beautiful music he could make. I tightened my hold on his hips, yanking him down to meet me. Our bodies slapped together in a violent clash of flesh.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” My arms trembled with the effort to lift up higher. Morgan readjusted his arm on the steering wheel, taking on some of the weight. The horn blared again, but the hell if I cared. I was too far gone. Cock moving in and out of his body, never wanting to stop and so desperate to finish my heart clawed at my ribs.

“Want you to come,” I said.

“Not yet.” Morgan barked in pleasure again and again. His swollen cock curved toward his stomach. The head glistened in the poor light. The scent of musk and sex soaked the truck cab. Even with the windows down, fog clouded the edge of the windshield, closing in until only the center was clear.

“Harder.” The cords on Morgan’s neck stood out. “Harder, Grant, harder.”

“The truck was your bright idea.” A cramp pulled at my left calf; I extended my leg to ease it and came dangerously close to sliding out of him. I bent my knee back.

“Yesss—” Morgan grabbed me by my hair and pulled me forward. With one arm propping him off the steering wheel and the other on me, our bodies were crushed together so tight I could barely take a full breath.

His bangs slid away. The lack of light erased irrelevant details, leaving behind the raw, unrelenting desire. No man had ever looked at me that way. Not even in the throes of sex. Like the light, he watched something inside me, something no one else could see, and I didn’t know whether to be frightened or honored.

“Want you to come. Want you to fill me. Can you do that?”

I either would or die trying, that much I knew for sure.

I fucked him.

Sweat made my clothes stick to my skin. My jaw ached from clenching my teeth, the joints in my knees screamed, muscles knotted, and my pulse beat so hard black spots danced in front of my eyes.

But I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. The mask of bliss sweeping over Morgan’s face was worth anything.

I seriously began to wonder if I was going to live up to my vow. Then the sudden rush of electric euphoria swept over me. I threw back my head with a shout. Morgan’s body tightened around my pulsing cock. Wave after wave, beat after beat, Morgan flexed his ass.

I collapsed and was able to unfold enough to breathe.

Morgan pulled my hair. “Not yet, you don’t.” He moved to his knees. His stiff cock curved toward his stomach. “You’re gonna suck me?”

“Yeah.” Hell if I knew how.

Morgan raised up on his feet and perched his ass on the steering wheel. His back pressed to the roof, his arms on either side of my shoulders on the back of the seat, he created an arch with his body, giving me perfect access to his glorious cock. I slid forward on jellied legs and almost dumped myself into the floorboard. He caught me before the horn did much more than yelp.

The thick rich flavor of precum filled my mouth as I took him to the back of my throat. Morgan moaned. Like the musical cries he made, it was a sound unique to him. He pumped his hips, driving his dick into my mouth.

The angle made it difficult for me to get to his balls so I plunged two fingers in his hole.

He jumped, and his head smacked the roof. “More.” He twisted a handful of my hair. I gave him three, and he cried out. Morgan fucked my mouth while I did the same to his ass. The heat of cum slid down my fingers with the slick remnants of lubricant.

His gasps, his pleas, it added to the obscene squelch of my fingers moving in and out of his body.

I pulled to the tip, sucked hard, and he yanked my hair again. I took him deep, swallowing around him. It must have been exactly what he wanted because his breathing hitched.

“Almost, almost.”

For a moment, his cock went so deep I couldn’t breathe, then he backed out. I tightened my lips around his length and his thrust shortened, giving me half, but increasing the speed.

“Almost, Grant. God, your mouth, I love your mouth. I love your dick, too. And your fingers. Harder, harder, please…”

I twisted my arm at an uncomfortable angle, but it gave me enough room to shove my fingers all the way to my knuckles. I found his prostate.

“Oh, God, yesss—yessss….” Morgan bucked his hips. The back of his thighs hit the horn, and it chirped with every rapid thrust, then his wanton cries drowned everything out. Liquid heat shot over my tongue, salty, bitter, rich, and earthy, his cum filled my mouth, trickled down my throat. I swallowed as much as I could and kept sucking. Morgan rode out his orgasm long after he had nothing left to give. He rocked, he breathed, he pulled my hair.

I removed my fingers from his ass and looked for something to wipe them on. Then it dawned on me why I needed to clean them in the first place.

“Damn it.”

“What?”

The condoms sat on the seat next to me. “Jesus, Morgan I’m sorry, I…” I knew better. I fucking knew better. “I’m clean. I swear. I haven’t been with anyone since I got out of the hospital and they…”

“It’s okay.” He tilted my head back and took my mouth. I slipped him the flavor of his cum, and he moaned.

It was then I heard the strange popping sound. No, no, not popping.

Clapping?

I didn’t even want to look, but I did.

Cars in front of us, beside us, behind us had become perches for their passengers. No one in the parking lot watched the movie any more.

Someone whistled. Another person shouted. Then I’ll be damned if they didn’t start shouting for an encore.

Morgan gave me a crooked smile.

“No,” I said.

“But our fans are calling our name.”

I didn’t even take the time to pull up my jeans. I just dumped Morgan in the passenger seat and cranked up the truck. Just as I started to back out, I remembered the stupid speaker hooked on the door.

It landed on the ground with a thump. At least I managed to not run over it.

And damn Morgan, he was still laughing at me when I took a left back onto the main road.

********

I stayed over because after an encore, and an encore to the encore, there was no way I was going to walk, let alone drive.

But as exhausted as I was, I couldn’t fall asleep.

I lay there in the darkness with Morgan’s head on my shoulder, his exhales warming my cheek.

When I’d been in the business, I rarely slept if I was outside of my apartment. Even if I’d been going for days organizing a shipment. I put a couch in my office for those short lulls when I could catch an hour nap.

But no matter how hard I tried, how achy, how much my eyes burned, I couldn’t get them to close. My body remained on high alert until the package was safe and my client was happy.