Whatever the Cost Read Free

pulls out, stripping off the rubber and squeezing up his dick. He comes hot and messy over the pert swell of his lover’s bottom, painting it milky white. The viscous fluid drips down the tan muscle, through his crack, as Tucker keeps tugging, keeps coming.
    Tingling and sated, he does what he deems the logical thing and reaches around William, finding his long prick fully hard and jutting up between his legs. It sends another thrill through him, the proof that William got off on getting fucked.
    “You don’t have to,” William tells him, sounding like he’s trying to catch his breath and hold it together.
    “Shut up,” Tucker growls, wrapping the sensitive flesh in a tight fist and pumping. William’s hips stutter as he pushes frantically into Tucker’s hand, chasing the provided, much-needed relief. Glancing at William’s face, Tucker sees his long, sweeping eyelashes flutter closed, his mouth going soft, his lips parting. Sinking the points of his teeth into William’s shoulder, Tucker bites him, then sucks at the shallow dents. Hissing and groaning, William draws his hips back, then ruts forward. “Come, damn it. Fucking come.”
    His head falling forward, turning his face slightly away from Tucker almost timidly, William cries out low and long. Every muscle in his body goes tense and he exhales a shaky breath as he spurts, jetting semen over Tucker’s fingers, the bed and his own abdomen. With one last fervent push of his hips, William trembles and relaxes, going boneless. But he’s careful not to lean back against Tucker, keeping his weight on his own knees.
    Once Tucker has released him, and they’ve shared a long, serene moment, enjoying the afterglow, William says, “I’m gonna jump in the shower, if that’s okay. You don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to. I can show myself out. It’s your call.”
    Too bewildered to reply, Tucker lies down on the bed, stretching out as William gathers up his clothes and disappears with them into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, he re-emerges. Tucker hasn’t moved. William, clothed, clean and fresh, is immaculate once more. Self-consciousness creeps into the edges of Tucker’s tranquility. Naked, dirty and tangled in the bed sheet, he asks, “Can I see you again?”
    “Of course. Whenever you want, I’m yours. Just call Della. She’ll set it up.”
    “She, um, said she would wire your fee from my account directly. Is that okay?”
    Giving his client a sweet, deferential smile, William nods and murmurs, “Yeah, that’s okay.”
    “I had a great time. Hell of a lot better than I thought I would. Thank you.”
    “No problem. Call me,” William smiles, backing toward the door and slipping his phone from his pocket to call the office and check in with Della. The electronic payment is typical. It means William doesn’t have to deal with the money at all apart from getting paid. But he does want to let her know the job has been completed before he takes off for home.
    “I will,” Tucker agrees. “Next time I’m in town.”
    “Good.”
    As soon as the door closes with a soft click, Tucker rolls over, burying his face in a pillow and releasing a yell full of the last remnants of his pent-up anxiousness into it, needing to be purged of it as much as he needed to be purged of his spunk.
    “Oh my
god
,” he bellows into the down. “That was fucking
awesome
!” Rolling again and letting his arms fall widely outward, he bursts into carefree, weightless laughter. “I need to get my ass to L.A. more often. Yeehaw.”

Chapter 2
Domestic Bliss
     
    “Hi honey, I’m home!” The door slams and keys jingle as they drop into the porcelain dish sitting atop the narrow table in the foyer. The house is neat and tidy as always – the furnishings sparse but elegant with dark colors and clean lines. It almost borders on being sterile, perhaps in allusion to the fact that it’s not nor will it ever truly be home to the inhabitants. It's merely a