Special Delivery: Special Delivery, Book 1 (18 page)

Something else entered him too.

“What—?” He gasped as it went inside him.

“Beads.” Mitch pushed another one in.

They were getting bigger, and Sam would’ve sworn they were ringed with fire and half a mile wide. They weren’t balling up because Mitch slipped his finger between beads and straightened them. Sam could feel the things in his teeth. By the time Mitch pushed the last one in, Sam started to pant.

Mitch slapped his rump and told him to sit down and put on the underwear.

“You’re going to leave them
in
?” Sam cried. He sat down. At least he tried to. “Oh God.”

“Underwear.” Mitch spoke calmly, but Sam could hear the arousal in his voice. He
enjoyed
this.

Sam wasn’t sure. In the end Mitch had to help him, because every time he sat he squirmed.

“I think we need to put your cock ring on you.” Mitch helped Sam into his jeans. “You won’t make it five feet without it, I don’t think.”

This was how Sam ended up arching off the seat, hands on the dash and the window as Mitch wrestled the metal ring first onto his penis, and then, as Sam moaned, over his balls.

“Too tight?”

Sam shook his head.

“Good.”

Mitch put his hand in Sam’s underwear and fussed with something. Then he withdrew.

“What did you do?” Sam wriggled as something small and flat pressed to his perineum.

“Something for later.” Mitch grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

Chapter Twelve

The bar was busy now, but Sam barely noticed because he was so focused on the fact that if not for the cock ring, he’d have come in his pants two steps out of the truck. He felt as if his hips were undulating, and maybe they were, because every step he took sent the beads rolling around inside him, rubbing against his prostate, heightening awareness of his anal canal and quite possibly his colon. The beads and their sensations left him horny, and if he’d been alone, he would have jerked himself off. But if he got too hard, the cock ring tightened and eased his erection back down.

Mitch got him a drink, and Sam sipped it absently, too busy exploring the sensations inside him. As he leaned on the bar, pretending to listen to the bartender’s conversation with Mitch—which was once again about trucking and whether or not Mitch could set the owners up with some deliveries on the cheap—he swayed his hips slightly, keeping up his internal friction, and at the same time this movement inspired Mitch’s hands to slide up and down the sides of Sam’s body.

Sometimes, when Sam wiggled too much, Mitch pushed his pelvis into Sam, and Sam would arch with him enough to show he yielded, but not enough to move away. After awhile Mitch stroked him, first his hips, then the outside of his groin, and his stomach, and while never breaking stride in his conversation with the bartender, his hand slipped forward and traced the outline of Sam’s dick, stealing down occasionally to tease the unyielding metal of the cock ring. Sam let his head fall against Mitch’s chest, opening to him. When Mitch’s erection pressed against his jeans, he swam away on the sensation, thinking he would be quite content to stay this way forever.

“If the two of you ever decide to sell tickets, be sure to let me know, and I’ll be first in line.”

The voice was unfamiliar and came from Sam’s right—Sam turned in Mitch’s arms, blinking as he came out of his sensual trance. A balding middle-aged man smiled at him with an expression that was both friendly and carnal.

Sam frowned. “Tickets?”

“To your show.” The man’s eyes ran down Sam’s body to his groin, where Mitch fondled him.

Abruptly, the spell was over.

Embarrassment flooded Sam, blood flowing from his erection to his face. But even as he tried to retreat from the attention, a small voice inside him tried to stop him.
He’s not mocking you. He’s enjoying you.
Sam couldn’t decide, though, if this was good or bad.

Mitch hadn’t acknowledged the man when he’d spoken, but as Sam went from yielding to wary in his arms, he turned from the bartender to the stranger. “Can I help you?” His tone suggested he’d be helping the man out of his sight if he didn’t care for the next words that came out of his mouth.

The balding man held up his hands and gave Mitch a
no-harm-meant
smile. “Admiring the pair of you, that’s all.” He stuck out his hand. “Leon Baines. I haven’t seen either of you in here before. Are you new in town?”

“Mitch Tedsoe. We’re passing through.” He accepted Leon Baines’s hand and gave it a perfunctory shake before withdrawing.

Leon seemed ready to order Sam for lunch. “And the lovely young man? What’s your name, honey?”

“Sam.” He felt steadier now, but he was still unnerved by Leon’s blatant sexual attention.

“A pleasure to meet you, Sam.” When Sam didn’t offer his hand, Leon took it himself, lifting it carefully, sliding his fingers over Sam’s in lieu of the polite handshake he’d given Mitch. When Sam did not pull away from his touch, Leon all but purred. “Oh, but you are
delightful
, my dear.”

Sam glanced up over his shoulder at Mitch, who had resumed his conversation with the bartender. But Mitch wasn’t entirely focused on the man behind the bar. They would slide to the right occasionally, enough to take in what went on beside him. When he caught Sam watching him back, Mitch’s gaze shifted to Leon before moving to Sam, and then he raised an eyebrow. Sam held still, confused. Mitch’s mouth played at a smile before he bent down and whispered in Sam’s ear. “Play if you want to, Sunshine.” He returned his focus to the bartender.

Sam glanced at Leon, who leaned an elbow against the bar. Leon transferred Sam’s hand there as well, where he continued to make quiet love to it as he spoke. “So where are you from?”

“Iowa.” Sam kept his focus on his captive hand.

“A
farm boy
.”

Sam glared. “I’ve never even been on one. A farm, I mean,” he corrected quickly, realizing his mistake too late.

Leon was too wrapped up in his fantasy to pick up the accidental bait. “So wholesome and sweet. And
strong
, and lithe. Look at those beautiful muscles.” His fingers traced the outline of Sam’s biceps, looking at them as if he’d like to eat them, or at least lick them.

Sam was not exactly aroused by this, but he wasn’t appalled by it, either. Mostly he was surprised. No one had ever ogled him before—well, Mitch had, but somehow he was different. This was the way Darin looked at him, as if Sam were a piece of meat, but there was an appreciation in Leon’s gaze he didn’t quite know what to do with. Sam realized it was the attention he was attracted to, not the man. He didn’t know what that meant, and he turned in refuge to his drink, which to his dismay was empty.

The next thing Sam knew he had another drink. It was the same thing Mitch had gotten him, something fruity and sweet that went down way too easy.

“So where are you headed, Iowa boy?”

Leon moved closer now, and somehow Sam slipped sideways into Mitch. Mitch stroked Sam’s left hip, and Leon rubbed Sam’s right thigh with his knee. When Sam wiggled, the beads tickled his insides. He clung to his drink and tried to keep hold of himself.

“We’re just traveling.” Sam clutched at the bar when Leon’s knee nudged him again. “With Mitch. I’m traveling with Mitch. He’s a semi driver.”

“Lovely.” Leon didn’t sound as if he cared at all. He ran his hand over Sam’s hip. When Sam stared at him fuzzily, Leon angled toward Sam’s cock. Sam gasped, tensed, and at last Mitch noticed what was going on.

He wasn’t outraged as Sam expected. He only stared calmly at Leon, who stared back, his hand still poised over Sam’s fly. Mitch nodded at Sam’s groin. “This man bothering you?”

Leon gave Sam a look that somehow conveyed innocence and wickedness all at once.

Sam swallowed hard. “Um.”

Leon smiled up at Mitch. “I was about to ask if Sam wanted to come meet a few of my friends.”

Mitch ran his hand across Sam’s shoulders. “Well? Do you want to go?” When Sam tossed an
Are you high?
look at him, he laughed. “I think that’s a no.”

“The both of you come, then. You’ve talked business all night. My friends all own businesses. If you’re looking for merchandise to carry, you might find some at our table. I can put in a word for you.”

Mitch’s hand still stroked Sam’s shoulder. “It’s up to Sam.”

Sam stood on tiptoe to reach Mitch’s ear. “You did see he was pawing me?”

“I did. You seemed to enjoy it. Was I wrong?”

Even half drunk, Sam could hear the hesitation mixed in with the casualness of Mitch’s question. He remembered their discussion before, of his own insistence he wanted to try things a little kinky.

Mitch had let all this happen
on purpose
.

Sam glanced over at Leon, who winked. Sam bit his lip.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Mitch promised. “Nothing you don’t want. I’ll watch you the whole time, no matter where you are in the bar. I’ll keep you safe, Sam.”

Sam leaned into him. “Okay.”

They crossed the bar, Leon carrying Sam’s drink and Mitch leading Sam with his arm around his waist. Sam’s throat felt dry, though, and since Leon had his drink, he stole a sip from Mitch’s glass on the way. Sam glanced up at Mitch in surprise. “You’re drinking plain Pepsi.”

“Can’t keep an eye on you if I’m not sober enough to pay attention. Also, we’ll need to get going in no later than an hour, and I need to drive us across town.”

It was weird how this more than anything made Sam feel safe, and he smiled as Leon took them to a table and introduced them to the three men seated there. It was a curved booth, and everyone shoved over to let the newcomers sit down. Leon tried to maneuver Sam between his friend Craig and himself, but Sam held tight to Mitch, which landed Leon at the end of the semicircle.

Leon hadn’t been joking: his friends were all local businessmen, and Mitch chatted them up, asking who their carriers were and what they charged. To Sam’s relief, Craig, who sat beside him, looked bored.

“I hate it when they talk business,” he murmured to Sam.

Craig was younger than Leon, and a lot more handsome, and a lot less smarmy. He seemed attracted to Sam too, which Sam enjoyed.

Sam stirred his drink with its straw. “What do you want to talk about?”

Craig shrugged. “Anything else. TV. Movies. Music.”

Sam beamed. “What sort of music?”

“The usual. Pop, mostly. Some jazz. A little electronica. Have you heard the new Imogen Heap album? It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

Sam tilted his head to the side and regarded Craig with as much seriousness as his succession of fruity drinks would allow. “Who do you prefer: Kylie or Madonna?”

Craig winced. “How can you ask? It’s impossible to choose.” But he tapped his finger against his beer and considered the question. “Madonna. Oh, don’t give me that look,” he scolded when Sam made a face. “You’re a puppy. If you’d lived through Blond Ambition, you’d think differently.”

“Did you go to that concert?”

“No. I was ten. But I remember watching the show on HBO and wishing I could. I’ve caught every tour live since Drowned World, though.”

Sam sighed wistfully. “I love Kylie. I about died when I heard she was coming to the US, but I couldn’t get tickets.”

Craig’s smile was evil. “I went.”

Sam clamped a hand on his leg. “
Oh my God.
How was it? Amazing?”

Craig’s eyes danced, and he leaned in close to whisper, “Sweetheart, it was
magic
.”

“Tell me.” Sam clutched Craig’s thigh. “Tell me all about it,
please
.”

Craig did, detailing every song and sequin, speaking softly into Sam’s ear, and as the story wound on, his hands wandered over Sam. The toe of his shoe stroked Sam’s calf. All the while, Sam kept his hand on Craig’s thigh.

Craig leaned in and nipped Sam’s ear. Sam shuddered.

With a low laugh, Craig did it again. “Is your boyfriend going to beat me up for this?”

Sam glanced at Mitch, who remained deep in conversation, but when Sam turned toward him, Mitch put his hand over Sam’s, the one resting on his own thigh, and he squeezed.

After squeezing back, Sam returned his focus to Craig. “I—I think he likes to watch, actually.”

“So you’re a little kinky, are you? Very nice.” He sucked briefly on Sam’s earlobe. “You guys looking for a third?”

Sam had a sudden vision of Mitch holding him to his chest, watching while Craig kissed his way down his stomach. He sucked in a breath but found he couldn’t answer.

This didn’t seem to bother Craig. “You’re sweet. Sexy, but shy.” Beneath the table, Craig ran his hand over Sam’s knee and gently hooked Sam’s leg over his own. Sam dug his fingers into Craig as the other man’s fingers traveled up his thigh. “Play with me?”

Sam could only nod.

As if from a great distance away, he remembered there were other people at the table, and he sat up, opening his eyes to let them dart warily around the group. Mitch spoke to the two across from him, something about rates per pound, and they listened intently, but Leon watched Craig and Sam with interest. Mitch’s hand slid over Sam’s leg closest to him, and as Craig moved higher, Mitch did too. Sam squirmed, realizing what was coming, but even though he tried to stop it, his fondlers met in the middle over Sam’s swollen groin, and Sam’s hand served only to hold them there in emphasis.