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Chapter 11

JAMES

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I exploded with hot need.

Everything I had blew out of me, all with one final hard thigh-slapping thrust. And, with a muffled cry into Dylan's shoulder, I tried to bury my moan of joy into the firm muscles of his back, as I emptied my cum into him.

We remained like that for a long moment, my forehead resting on Dylan's back, nothing but the sounds of our heavy breathing filling the room.

When I eventually raised my head, I noticed Dylan had turned to peer at me over his shoulder. “You good?” Dylan asked. And I could hear a hint of insecurity coloring his voice.

I quickly put a stop to all doubts in his mind, and dipped my head to kiss him. While Dylan twisted awkwardly at an angle so that I could capture his lips, putting everything I had into our passionate lock.

I moaned as I felt Dylan clench his butt hole a couple times, as though he were trying to milk every last drop of cum from my still deliciously sensitive cock head. I shivered, enjoying the thrill of it, before I finally released his lips and slid my dick out of his ass. “That was perfect,” I said as I caught my breath.

Righting myself, I shuffled a few steps back, giving Dylan the room to straighten himself up off the table. “What about you? Are you good?” I returned Dylan's question, as we both set about pulling up our pants, and fixing our clothes.

I felt a connection to this man, an electricity that began from the moment he’d turned up at the garage. The last thing I wanted was to scare Dylan away, especially after our mind-blowing fuck.

I wanted—needed—more from him. I’d taken Dylan for the first time, and I wasn't prepared for it to be the last.

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I’m a little sore,” he said with a chuckle as he tucked his shirt back into his jeans.

I decided to test the waters, trying to feel things out, moving towards him as though he were a wild animal about to bolt off.

But too my surprise, Dylan welcomed the arms I wrapped around him, and he fell into my embrace.

With his head nestled in the crook of my shoulder, we stood flush as Dylan nuzzled my neck. And it took me a second to remember that the flesh on my neck—that Dylan was pressing warm lips against—were my burn scars.

I stiffened, remembering that the scars were there all over again. My time with Dylan had managed to do something that I’d been struggling to do for a long while.

Being with Dylan made me forget that those scars were even there.