Special Delivery: Special Delivery, Book 1 (23 page)

Sam stilled, then melted, sliding his hands up until he found Mitch’s shoulders. He hung on as Mitch opened his mouth over Sam’s, and Sam answered the kiss with the same intensity of passion. Every thought, all his fear, and most of his brain cells fled at the touch of Mitch Tedsoe’s tongue against his own. He made soft sounds in the back of his throat, and he kneaded at Mitch’s shirt, digging for his skin. He pressed his body into Mitch’s, feeling his heat, his strength, but his softness too. It was headier than anything Sam had ever known. Sam gave himself over to this wonderful new moment, marveling at himself, at how he seemed to know the right blend of aggression and submission, fueling the kiss, reveling in the way Mitch’s hands stroked the sides of his face and the taste of his mouth.

When they broke apart, it was Mitch who pulled away, nuzzling Sam a bit until he let him go, and after one last squeeze of Sam’s hand, Mitch parted the curtain and headed toward the bathroom. When he came back out, he was quiet, which suited Sam fine because he didn’t know what to say.

They stopped that night in Durango, making a sort of camp in a parking lot near a warehouse Mitch knew the owner of, and after a picnic of microwave meals and snacks from the cupboard, Mitch settled in with a Bohemia and Sam with a bottle of mineral water. Lying twined together on the brand-new sheets, they broke in the porn.

They started, at Mitch’s suggestion, with the truckers.

It was disappointing. The production was low budget, and they wasted too much time on bad plot. The sex was good but kind of stupid, as it mostly had a truck in the background. The truckers didn’t look like any of the truckers Sam had seen at all. It was just some guy fucking another guy in front of a fender, or getting a blowjob or doing really gross kissing that should have been hot, but all Sam could think of was the kiss after the pass, and these didn’t compare. The only thing exciting about the movie was the way Mitch’s hand skimmed over his hip.

“I clearly don’t know how to pick porn.” Sam craned his head back to look at Mitch. “Let’s watch yours.”

Mitch brushed a kiss across Sam’s forehead and disentangled himself to comply with Sam’s request.

Twink Kink
was a lot better. It started with a young man with a slight build, smooth chest and dark hair walking alone through a neighborhood at night. Two men appeared out of nowhere, kidnapped him and took him to their sexual dungeon, where they stripped him naked and had their way with him, which after a few moments of protest, he completely enjoyed.

Sam did too. Not just because it was hot, but because their play mirrored what was on the screen. When the kidnappers ran their hands over the boy’s body, Mitch’s hands roved over Sam’s chest and beneath his shirt to stroke his skin. When they attached nipple clamps to the boy—well, first, Sam flinched, and then he gasped as Mitch took first one of Sam’s nipples and then the other between his fingers. When they tied the captive’s hands above his head, Sam lifted his own without prompting and let Mitch pin them.

Soon he was naked and writhing in Mitch’s arms, gasping and arching and crying out along with his counterpart on the screen. When the twink’s torturers untied his hands and sent him to the floor, holding their engorged dicks before his mouth, Sam slid down Mitch’s body and fought with the fastenings of his jeans.

In the end he managed to get them off and took Mitch in his mouth, not looking up so he could shut his eyes and imagine he was the twink in the video with two strangers forcing him to act on his own lust. He nursed on Mitch until he tugged at Sam’s hair. Then he shifted to Mitch’s balls, sucking one, then the other, and then took both into his mouth before pushing gently on Mitch’s thighs and sliding down to his perineum. Then, riding along with the gasps of the boy on the screen, Sam went all the way down.

He’d never had his mouth on anyone here. He told himself not to be nervous or paranoid of germs. Still, he gave Mitch’s anus one quick swipe with the sheets as a sort of consolation before pressing his thumbs along the edge of Mitch’s opening. Bending his head, Sam pushed his tongue into Mitch’s heat.

Mitch’s reaction was heady. Even that small touch sent him shuddering and reaching for Sam’s head. With a fistful of Sam’s hair in his hand, Mitch pushed Sam’s face right into his pucker. It felt good to have Mitch be the one panting and shaking after Sam had practically melted down the side of the mountain. Sam forgot his hesitation and gave over, laving first in a circle, then poking, then circling again before pulling Mitch’s cheeks apart with his thumbs and inserted his tongue.
Warm.
It was hot and soft, and Mitch trembled around Sam’s tongue, pushing it out, but when Sam spread him, it opened for him. All the while Sam worked, Mitch clutched at him and made frightening, beautiful sounds. Sam lost himself in poking and licking and pressing, until suddenly Mitch shouted and seized, and then he pulled Sam back up, through his legs, over his stomach and toward his face.

He kissed Sam roughly, his hands trembling as he thrust his tongue into Sam’s mouth with more force than Sam could prepare for. Then he withdrew and turned Sam over, pinning him to his sticky chest with one arm, his other hand reaching down to stroke Sam’s dick. Up on the video screen, the twink was tied to a bench, and he grunted and gasped around two cocks, one in his mouth and one in his very red ass.

Mitch put Sam’s hand on his own still-swollen dick, urging him into a masturbating rhythm before letting go and running his hand between them. As Sam continued to stroke himself and watch his counterpart get fucked on the screen, Mitch slipped a semen-slick finger inside him.

“
Oh.
” Sam lifted his legs and spread them when Mitch reclaimed control of his cock with one hand as the other moved inside of Sam.

He masturbated Sam slowly, a sort of punishment that went along with the torture the kidnappers gave the twink on the screen. They stopped fucking him and started flogging him, swatting him first with a paddle and then a crop. Sam thought the twink should be screaming, but he only moaned, clearly having a gay old horny time. He was eager, too, as they untied him and mounted him on one of the attackers who’d positioned himself on the floor. As Sam watched, the other man came up from behind him, and then—

“Oh God.” Sam’s chest heaved as he realized what was about to happen. “They’re both—
both—at once?
”

“Would you want that, Sunshine?” Mitch twisted a finger inside of him. “Would you take two dicks at once?”

Sam shuddered.
No, no, no. It would hurt.
But he watched the agonized rapture on the twink’s face onscreen and remembered how it felt to have Craig before him and Mitch behind him, and he shivered. “Yes.”

The next thing Sam knew, he was on the floor, on his knees, cold lube sliding into his ass. He felt the dildo pushing at his entrance.

Lust flipped immediately over to fear. “Mitch, I—”

Mitch squeezed his hip in reassurance. “Not tonight. But something close.”

The dildo drove into Sam, and he moaned. When Mitch pushed him down so he sat on his own legs in a fetal position, he went, turning his cheek to rest on the floor as Mitch took first one arm and then the other and tucked them beside Sam’s feet.
Like the spreader.
Sam gasped as Mitch forced his legs apart, shoved two fingers in alongside the dildo and began to fuck him.

It wasn’t a double fucking, but it was quite a lot, and it was different, and it was lewd and hot and very slutty. Sam made a symphony of incoherent noises before coming violently against the steel floor. He lay panting and twitching as Mitch gave him a few last pumps, withdrew, and gathered Sam in his arms, drawing him toward the bed.

The television was off, the cab was dark and the night was silent around them as Mitch held Sam in his arms, cradling him to his chest, placing soft kisses on Sam’s eyebrows. After awhile he stilled, and then, with almost no warning, Mitch went to sleep.

Sam watched him in the shadows. He thought of all that had happened that day, of how he had woke hung over in Denver, driven into the mountains, panicked on the pass and was now here, sated and safe in Mitch’s arms. He felt so far from home, as if he were on another planet, except when he looked at Mitch’s face. When he saw Mitch, he knew he was home.

His feelings swelled inside him, a joy and sorrow at once, a terror more intense than any mountain pass. Sam shut his eyes and placed a tender kiss in the center of Mitch’s chest.

Chapter Sixteen

Mitch, Sam was starting to realize, always woke early. He stirred at five, and by five thirty he’d dressed, eaten, made coffee in a pot Sam hadn’t even known he’d had, and was trying to get the Internet on his laptop.

“Stay in bed,” he told Sam when he sat up.

Sam fell onto his pillow. “Checking your mail?”

“Looking for jobs. Trying to, anyway.” He grimaced and shut the laptop. “Can’t get a signal, though. No free or pay Wi-Fi. Only bad thing about the mountains.”

Sam pointed at the front of the cab. “Get me my phone.” He took it from Mitch, poked around a bit then handed it to him. “Slower than dial-up with no 3G, but it’s Internet.”

“How do I use it?” Mitch asked, mystified, and Sam crawled to the floor, dragging the blanket with him as he leaned against Mitch and showed him.

Mitch was pleased. “Thanks, Sunshine.” He ruffled Sam’s hair and looped his arm around his shoulders, gently pinning him in place while he used the phone to surf.

Sam watched, groggy but comfortable. “Where are we going today?”

“That’s what I’m trying to suss out.” He rubbed his thumb along Sam’s naked shoulder absently as he waited for a page to load. “I thought somebody might have a load for Phoenix, but there’s nothing.” He frowned. “Just loads to Vegas.”

“Oh?” Sam perked up.

Mitch continued to frown. “I’ll find one somewhere else. If I take a load to Phoenix, I
know
I can get something to L.A. right off.”

After several minutes of searching, Mitch swore. There was nothing to Phoenix. Only Vegas.

“We can make it quick, I guess.” He rubbed his jaw. “It might be okay.”

Sam tipped his head at Mitch. “Why don’t you want to go to Vegas?”

Mitch pursed his lips. “Bad memories.”

That wasn’t all, Sam could tell. This was the same look he got when Sam said the wrong thing, or when they got too kinky. This was what always tied Mitch up inside. Suddenly, Sam knew. “It’s him, isn’t it? The guy you keep talking about. He’s in Vegas.”

Mitch pressed his lips tighter together. “Don’t worry about it.”

Sam tried not to. He slipped out of Mitch’s hold and climbed to his knees, taking the sheet with him until he was at the bathroom, where he gave up and dropped it. He used the toilet, splashed water on his face, pausing to glance in the small mirror posted over the mini sink. He needed to shave—he actually had a tiny bit of beard. He stroked the whiskers, wondering if he had time to deal with them. He touched his chest too, rubbing at the few wiry hairs there, thinking of the smooth-skinned boy in the video.

He thought of the nameless, faceless man in Vegas who kept getting in his way.

Sam ran wet fingers through his hair, doing his best to tame the mess, and went out into the cab. He hesitated a moment, retrieved his sheet and went back to the bed, where he tried to gather enough courage to speak.

Eventually he did, and he headed back up to the front of the cab to deliver his announcement. “I want to go to Vegas.”

Mitch glanced up at him, wary. “Why?”

Sam lifted his chin. “I want to meet him. This guy.”

Mitch’s expression didn’t just shutter, it went cold. “No.”

“Then tell me about him. Tell me what went so wrong. Tell me, so I don’t do it too.”

“You will
never
be like Randy.”

A name
. Sam latched on to it, a precious bit of treasure. “Tell me about him. Tell me about your past, Mitch. Tell me, please.”

“No.” Mitch rubbed at his cheeks. “Don’t do this, Sam. Leave things be.”

I can’t.
He keeps getting in the way.
Or something did. Sam had to know. He had to understand.

But what would he find out?

Sam rose, taking his sheet with him, heading for the coffeepot, not because he wanted some but because he had to move. “I shouldn’t have brought this up. It was a stupid idea.”

He yelped when Mitch grabbed him, and the air went out of him as he came down into Mitch’s lap. Mitch took his face in one hand, holding it in place as he regarded Sam with a stilted expression. He ran his thumb over Sam’s cheekbone, but he didn’t say anything.

Sam tried to turn away, but Mitch held him fast. “I’m sorry—” He stopped talking as Mitch kissed him. He melted immediately, opening for him, sliding his hand up his arm. But as quickly as it had begun, the kiss was over.

“I’ll take you.” Mitch stroked the side of Sam’s face in a tender gesture that made Sam jump. He lowered his hand, chastised. “Try and keep an open mind, okay?”

Sam pulled back. “Open mind? About what?”

“Just generally open.”

Sam pushed down a queasy sensation in his belly. “You’re freaking me out, Mitch.”

Mitch tweaked Sam’s nose. “Good.” He handed Sam his phone and climbed to his feet. “So. I’ll call the place here in Durango that has a load, and we’ll see what we see.”