Jurassic Heart (13 page)

At least he was gentle as he pushed in, letting the head pop through the ring of muscle and holding there while I grunted and adapted to his width. Then he pushed forward until his hips were flush against my ass cheeks. I thought I could feel him all the way up in my stomach. Jeez, the boy was packing.

Once I managed to stop clenching my jaw, Hunter grabbed hold of my hips, pulled his cock almost completely out of me, and slammed it back inside. I felt more than justified in the series of grunts and whimpers that escaped from my throat, especially once he found the right angle so the head of his cock nudged my prostate with each inward thrust.

I kneaded handfuls of soft down pillow with each hand and went about vocalizing a steady stream of filthy encouragement. Like much of our interaction so far, there was very little I would describe as “nice”; it was a long, hard, rough fuck, exactly what I’d expected and wanted from him.

After a few minutes of pure, blissful sex, I reached back and grabbed my cock, giving it a few hard tugs since Hunter didn’t seem to be willing to do it for me.

When the snapping rhythm of his hips increased and I felt myself being driven toward that inevitable climax, I increased the speed of my hand on my cock, willing myself not to get left behind if he came first. Hunter slapped the side of my ass a few times, and I wondered if I was going to let him get away with it. Spanking was fine, in context. But it felt good, so I decided to go let him carry on.

I did come first, with an “Oh,
fuck
,” clenching down hard on his dick to make it feel good for him. Since I was feeling considerate, I caught most of my cum in my hand instead of letting it spray out all over his sheets. They felt soft. Expensive. I hoped he was fucking grateful.

With a final grunt-slap combination, I could feel him come too; the little shudder and the tightening of his hands on my hips were confirmation enough. I wondered if he’d left bruises on my skin. If Boner saw them, I’d never live it down.

I could hear his heavy breaths for a few seconds until he carefully pulled out and rolled off the bed, back out to the bathroom. I shifted, hyperaware of the rapidly cooling cum pooled in the palm of my hand, my ass sore.

When Hunter walked back into the bedroom, still bare-ass naked, I stood and nodded toward myself. “I’m just going to go and clean up,” I muttered.

“Yeah. Of course.”

The bathroom was tiny, and that was coming from a guy who was clearly on the short side. There was a sink, toilet, and shower all crammed in together; I wasn’t sure how Hunter managed to fit in the shower or maneuvered himself around the sink in order to get to the toilet. I washed up quickly, dried my hands, and padded back to the bedroom to find my clothes.

Hunter was already in bed, the sheets pulled up to cover himself as far as his belly button. I rubbed my hands over my face and started to look for my boxers.

“Will you drop me back at the motel, please?” I said, avoiding his eyes.

“No,” he said lightly. “Just sleep here.”

“Don’t do this, Hunter,” I said on a sigh.

“Come to bed, Nick, and stop being such a fucking pussy.”

To prove I was no pussy, I climbed into the bed, appreciating that it was, in fact, more than a little comfortable. He pulled the covers over me and rearranged some pillows so I had two.

“Are we going to talk about our feelings now?” I said, bitching at him.

“Not unless you want to,” he said. He started combing his fingers through my hair, and I decided it was far too intimate. “Go on, ask me something. I know you must be dying to.”

“I’m not curious about anything when it comes to you.”

“Bitch,” he said, goosing me. “Okay, I’ll ask you something, then.”

“What makes you think I’ll answer?”

“Um… why dinosaurs?”

“Oh, low blow,” I said. “You can’t bring up my one and only kink and expect me not to say anything about it. But it’s a long story. Probably best kept for another day.”

“Okay,” he said lightly.

I waited for long moments to see if he’d ask me something else. When he didn’t, I decided to go to sleep. Then something pricked at the back of my mind.

“So, what mix of people gave you this”―I paused to run my hand over his chest―“rather stunning complexion?” Since he had no tan lines, not anywhere, I assumed it wasn’t the result of a good suntan.

Hunter threw his head back and laughed. “Now, that’s another long story,” he said, teasing me. “With a name like Nick Eisenberg, your own ancestry isn’t hard to guess.”

“Mm. We’re Austrian Jewish.”

“Like I said, not hard to guess,” he said with a little smile. “My mother is French and my father is First Nations.”

“Do you speak French?”

“
Bien sûr.
”

“Fluently?”

“
Oui, monsieur. Et je pense que tu es très beau
.”

My high school French allowed me to translate the “beautiful” bit, and I hid the fact that I was flattered. Playing dumb, I allowed him to continue.

“My dad’s family is Blackfoot. My great-grandfather, he used to talk of his father, and apparently he lived in Montana. No one’s quite sure when we moved up here, but it’s all old Blackfoot territory that straddles the US/Canadian border. So technically I think I’m Indian, but it’s all just semantics.”

“You consider yourself to be Blackfoot.”

“Right.” He smiled, apparently pleased I got it.

“I like it,” I said.

“Wait, there’s something about me that you actually like?”

“Don’t get too excited, Joseph,” I said around a wide yawn. “It’s only your complexion. There are still plenty of things I don’t like.” But for the life of me, I couldn’t bring one to mind. I hoped he wouldn’t ask for examples.

Hunter smiled against my skin, and he didn’t say anything else, apparently content for me to have the last word tonight. There was nothing stopping me from staying with him and sleeping.

So I did.

I
WOKE
up to a First Nations/French arm around my waist and the warm weight of another person behind me. The first thought that ran through my mind was
oh fuck
, shortly followed by another round of
oh fuck
.

“Good morning,” Hunter murmured from over my shoulder.

“No. Go away. I hate you,” I said, trying to shift him away.

He laughed, a warm, rumbly sound at my back, and I hated that I liked it. Still, I couldn’t argue with the fact that my words were at least a little bit contradictory; after all, I’d let him fuck me the night before, then stayed in his bed, apparently naked. It wasn’t how one traditionally communicated hatred toward another person.

“Do you want breakfast?”

“What time is it?”

“A little after seven thirty.”

I really did pull away then, wincing at the time and the situation and the sunlight. “I should get back. I have to get to work soon.”

He nodded as I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, quickly locating my jeans and my phone from within them. It took a moment to turn it on again and a moment more to get a signal. Then I fired off a quick message to Boner.

Have you left yet?

While I waited for his reply, Hunter got out of bed, pulled on boxers, and padded through to the kitchen. Then the smell of coffee started to waft through. I inhaled deeply and silently begged he’d offer me a cup.

“Coffee?”

“Please,” I said and thanked whichever god was listening. My phone chimed with a message.

Not yet. Want me to wait for you?

Yes. Please. Thanks, B.

No worries. You can tell me everything on the way to the dig.

I knew he wasn’t joking.

After dressing in a strange order, putting whatever item of clothing on in the order I found it, I finger combed my hair and went in search of that coffee.

“Would you mind dropping me back at the motel?” I asked, hating that I needed him for this.

“Sure,” he said easily. “I’ll go put clothes on. There are travel mugs in that cupboard if you wanna put the coffee in there? I take mine black, one sugar.”

I nodded and tried not to stare as he walked back to the bedroom. I failed. His skin was so smooth, such a gorgeous rich color. And those muscles! If he wanted to give up on environmental protection, Hunter could go into underwear modeling without any problem at all.

After shaking myself out of my fantasy (of Hunter in a jockstrap, well oiled, flexing those muscles and pouting at a camera), I found the travel mugs and poured the coffee, then added sugar to his and milk to mine. It was nice stuff, fresh, not the instant crap we kept in the motel room.

“Ready?” Hunter said, returning in a much more respectable knitted sweater and cutoff jeans over a pair of flip-flops. I nodded and passed him his mug.

I was mostly quiet on the drive through town and sat back, content to listen to the radio and drink my exemplary coffee. Hunter put his shades on because it was bright, denying me any chance to read his expression.

When we pulled up outside the motel, he turned to me and lifted the sunglasses onto his head. “Are you normally this quiet in the morning or is it weird between us?” he asked.

I shrugged. “A bit of both?”

He huffed a laugh. “Okay. I’d like to see you again. Despite the fact that you’re wrong all the time and you argue with me, I quite like hanging out with you.”

“It was fun,” I said. “I’m not sure, though. We’re going to butt up against each other no matter what we do….”

“It doesn’t matter to me. I can get over it if you can.”

I nodded. “Okay. I’m gonna think about it.”

“Okay,” he echoed, and I passed him back the now-empty travel mug.

“Thanks,” I said again.

“Nick?” he called and I turned back. “I’ll see you later. At the dig.”

I laughed, despite trying not to, and slammed the door shut. Unfortunately, his window was open, allowing the sound of his own laughter to follow me out of the car. He drove off quickly, and I headed back into the motel.

As I had expected, Boner was sitting on the bed when I walked in, looking for all the world like the cat who got the cream. He was eating a huge bacon sandwich from the diner down the street. I would have been pissed at him for not getting me one, but I’d had Hunter’s coffee and he hadn’t.

“Tell me
everything
,” he said as I shut the door behind me.

“I need to shower.”

“That’s okay,” he said, following me into the bathroom with his sandwich and sitting down on the closed toilet lid while I started to undress. “I can listen from in here.”

I turned the water on and thankfully, it heated up quickly as I tossed my clothes into the growing pile of dirty stuff by the door. We needed to go to the Laundromat again. My glasses steamed up, and I passed them to Boner, who set them on the back of the toilet and gave me a look.

I waited until I was under the water before speaking.

“I went home with Hunter Joseph.”

“Ha!” he crowed. “I
knew
there was something going on between you two.”

“There wasn’t until about eleven last night,” I said. “He offered to take me out to dinner, which we split, by the way, so that doesn’t count as a date. Then we went back to this RV he’s got parked on the edge of town and….”

“And you fucked like horny little bunny rabbits all night long?”

“Something like that,” I muttered and lathered up my hair with shampoo.

“Nick Eisenberg. You old dog.”

“Pass me my toothbrush, please?”

He did, and I scrubbed the coffee taste away while rinsing my hair. Boner was quiet, and when I chanced a look at him, he was still devouring his monster sandwich. Content that while Boner had meat in his mouth, he wasn’t likely to bother me, I scrubbed myself over, making sure anything icky wasn’t still stuck to my skin.

We were running super late, so I grabbed clean clothes and dressed quickly, not wanting our late arrival to the dig to be obvious. Then again, Boner wasn’t exactly known for his subtlety, so I guessed it wouldn’t be long until the gossip mill started to turn.

He seemed to be in a good mood as we drove up to the dig, humming along to the radio with the windows down and the breeze playing with the ends of his dreads.

“So, how big is his cock?” Boner asked.

“You know I’m not going to answer that.” I was tired, not that I was going to admit it.

“I bet he’s fairly chunky,” he continued. “Big, broad guy like that should have a chunky dick.”

“You’re a skinny little runt, though, and look at you.”

“I know,” he said with a smirk.

When we arrived on-site, I decided to have an office day. River wouldn’t mind; she was always bugging me to spend more time organizing shit and less time out in the mud. Since I wasn’t excavating anything in particular, I could do it without feeling too guilty, and it would mean I didn’t have to work next to Boner all day, listening to his undoubtedly lewd commentary.

I was feeling rather smug about my plan until I sat down on one of the lab stools and was reminded that yes, Hunter was quite generously proportioned.

River passed me a pile of paperwork, a mug of coffee, and another pile of unopened mail.

“Do I dare go through this?” I asked her with a grim smile. She responded by throwing me a pair of latex gloves and a face mask. “Thanks.”

“In case of anthrax.”

“You’re a doll. What would I do without you?”

“Die?”

I snorted, reminded of why we called them the Goth Twins. River had streaked her hair with turquoise recently and intricately braided it in a twist of black and blue. She turned to the rows of little glass tubes and trays with a smile on her dark-red lips.

Later in the day, Hunter turned up at the dig, as promised. Since I’d threatened to get a restraining order taken out against him unless he stayed away, he’d kept a respectable distance. However, having sex with him had apparently changed the boundaries of both our relationship and his proximity to my site. I had wondered if he would
come all the way up to the trailer; the light knock on the door
announced he’d decided to cross that invisible line.