Special Delivery: Special Delivery, Book 1 (4 page)

Mitch stood on the other side of it. “Howdy, Sunshine.” He grabbed Sam’s belt loop and pulled him forward.

Sam drew the door shut behind him. “Hi—” he said, but then he couldn’t say anything else because his mouth was occupied.

Only briefly, though—Mitch bit lightly on his lower lip, ran his tongue across it and nibbled his way along Sam’s chin to his throat, but it was enough to render Sam speechless and propel him the rest of the way into the other man’s arms.
It’s really happening.
He felt like an idiot, but he was a giddy idiot. Apparently an easy idiot. When Mitch’s hand ran down his thigh and skirted his ass, Sam groaned and pushed back, encouraging bolder groping.

“You change your mind?” Mitch murmured at Sam’s throat as his other hand slid between them to cup Sam’s groin. “You want to give the neighbors a show instead?”

I want you to fuck me on Main Street,
Sam wanted to say, ready to strip off his clothes himself. “No. In the trailer, like you said.” He shut his eyes and tilted his head to the side as Mitch trailed his tongue along a muscle in his neck. “
Oh God.
”

“Yeah, but can you walk, Sunshine? I think if I let go, you’re gonna fall off the edge. Do I need to carry you?”

“Jesus, that would be so hot,” Sam murmured, not quite aware he said the words out loud until the world tilted crazily as he was slung up over Mitch’s shoulder. He had just enough time to register the beautiful sight of the trucker’s ass before everything shifted as Mitch scaled the railing and dropped them both to the ground.

He had one moment of uncertainty as Mitch deposited him into the trailer. Mitch had tucked the ramp away, and Sam sat, ass smarting from impact, on the cold metal floor of the half-empty truck. He was acutely aware of the darkness and the closeness of the space, of the smell of cardboard and metal, and of cold.
What am I doing? I’m going to have sex with a strange man in the back of a semi?
Then Mitch planted his hands on either side of Sam and looked up at him with wicked hunger.

Yes. Yes, I am.

Mitch pushed himself up and into the truck and slid Sam farther inside it in one motion. God, he was
so
strong. Sam had been going to the gym or lifting at home since he was sixteen, but he had nothing,
nothing
on Mitch. Maybe it was girly of him, but he loved the sense of being so overpowered by another man but of being safe at the same time.

Relatively.

He shut his eyes and let out a half-sigh, half-moan as the weight of Mitch’s body pressed against his own. He felt the rigid outline of the other man’s cock, and he wished there wasn’t so much material between them.

There won’t be for long.

When Mitch withdrew, the loss was an ache. He turned his face toward Mitch as he nibbled his way across Sam’s cheek. Sam tried to recapture his mouth, and he succeeded long enough to suck the other man’s upper lip and run his tongue across his teeth. He thrilled at the shudder that went through Mitch, but when he let go to plunge deeper, Mitch drew back, rising above Sam.

He fumbled at Sam’s jeans, but at his pocket, not his fly. “Something’s poking me, and it ain’t cock.”

“Oh—that’s probably my phone.” Still breathless, Sam fumbled between them, shifting his hips and unintentionally—but not un-enjoyably—rubbing his erection against Mitch’s. He pulled the phone out, flashed it in a quick
See?
gesture, and tossed it—carefully—aside before returning to Mitch’s embrace.

Mitch enfolded him eagerly. “If I’d known I was meeting you, I’d have signed on to pick up a load of mattresses.”

Sam arched his body, a move which gave Mitch better access and pressed their dicks even tighter to one another. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He clutched at Mitch’s shoulders as the trucker sucked his collarbone. “Oh
Jesus
. Oh
God
.”

“This your first time, Sunshine?” Mitch’s fingers slid inside Sam’s waistband.

“In the back of a semitrailer? Yes.” Sam’s breath caught, and his stomach went concave as Mitch played against his abdomen. “And with a total stranger.”

“Hey, I told you my name.” Mitch teased the flesh of Sam’s hip as his mouth trailed toward his ear. “You gonna let me fuck you?”

Sam wanted to point out he’d been the one to bring the condoms and lube, but hearing
let me fuck you
out loud made his brain short-circuit again. Also, speaking of condoms—he flexed his hands, lifted his head with some effort and tried to glance around. “Shit.” When Mitch’s hand brushed his cock in the increasingly crowded space inside his jeans, he gasped and fought for coherence. “Wait—
oh God
—lost the condoms.”

“Relax. You dropped them on the dock, but I picked them up after I took us over the railing.” He removed his hand from Sam’s jeans, but only to facilitate his undoing of Sam’s fly. “Let me fuck you, Sam.”

Sam would have been hard-pressed to answer such a plea under any circumstances, but when Mitch pulled Sam’s aching dick out of his underwear as he asked, it pretty much guaranteed Sam could only gurgle his reply. In the end he thrust his hips eagerly into Mitch’s hand. It was apparently enough for Mitch, who stopped talking and started working his way down Sam’s body. He left briefly and returned with darkness in his wake as the doors to the trailer swung shut to a crack behind them, allowing a single shaft of light to guide Mitch back to Sam.

The last bits of insecurity about what he had committed himself to fled Sam when Mitch’s mouth closed around him. Darin’s blowjobs, infrequent and inexpert as they were, would be intolerable after this. Mitch sucked him deep, his tongue snaking around Sam’s shaft before he opened his throat and took him all the way in, until he burrowed his nose in Sam’s pubic hair. Sam cried out and clutched at his head, his own exploding as Mitch moved up and down along the length of Sam’s dick. Sam’s hips jerked tentatively, trying to match the other man’s rhythm, but just when he thought he’d found it, Mitch released him and sucked on his balls instead.

Sam opened his eyes and lifted his head in time to watch a testicle slide from Mitch’s mouth. Mitch was cast in shadow, and Sam couldn’t see the details, so when the hot, wet tongue ran up the length of him, Sam gasped and groaned as it pressed insistently into his slit. Then Mitch swallowed him, taking him once more to the root. Sam lay back and fucked the other man’s mouth.

He came with almost no warning, feeling as if he were emptying the entire contents of his body into Mitch. He trembled in some sort of post-orgasmic convulsion, and he was grateful for it because he was sure it was the only movement he was ever going to be able to make again. He was completely, utterly spent.

They weren’t even close to done.

When Mitch turned him over, Sam went rag doll, content to be positioned in whatever way Mitch wanted him. This ended up being on his knees, his jeans and underwear bunched beneath to cushion him against the cold, hard floor. When Mitch bent him forward over a box, Sam was still at full mast, hot and humming from release. His ass was bare and prickling from the cold.

With no warning at all, it was gripped by two large, rough hands. Sam shut his eyes and eased into the box, shivering in delight at how exposed he was—then his eyes opened wide as something soft and wet slide over his entrance.

Tongue.
That soft and wet was Mitch’s
tongue
.

He gave into the moan that came from the bottom of his balls as Mitch went at Sam’s ass with vigor.
Inside.
His tongue was
inside
. He’d read about this. He’d watched it in teasing bits of free clips online. He’d
dreamed
of this. Now it was happening. He was being rimmed by a hot, sexy stranger in the back of a semitrailer. He moaned louder and spread his knees farther apart as he lifted off the floor, trying desperately to press his ass tighter to Mitch’s face, to take him deeper and deeper inside.

He was gasping when Mitch finally stopped, but only seconds later Mitch replaced his tongue with a fat index finger slicked with lube.

“You are one sexy piece of ass.” With one hand Mitch pulled Sam open wider, and his finger made its first foray inside. “You gonna moan like that when it’s my cock inside you?” He added a second finger, and Sam grunted, pressing back to meet its thrust. Mitch laughed, the sound low and dangerous and sexy as fuck. “Oh yeah, honey. You are a
hot
little fuck.” He added a third finger as he whispered into Sam’s ear, “How rough do you want it, Sunshine? Hard and fast, or slow and easy?”

Sam wanted it hard enough to send him into the next county. But he remembered the time Darin had torn him, and how fucking much it hurt, and the memory was enough to bring him back to earth. He pushed off the box enough to reach behind him and fumble with the front of Mitch’s fly, pausing occasionally to lose himself in the way Mitch rubbed insistently against his prostate. He kept up his exploration until he had Mitch’s dick in his hand, measuring it carefully and with some relief. Though Mitch was almost alarmingly long, he wasn’t half as thick as Darin.

“Start slow,” Sam instructed. “But—if you can, later—”

Mitch twisted his fingers inside of Sam’s ass, making him gasp.

“Pound the shit out of you?” Mitch finished for him. Sam grunted as Mitch’s fingers curled then withdrew, and Sam fell forward, trembling, onto his box.

Despite the cold, Sam sweated as he listened to the crinkle of foil. When he felt the first nudge of Mitch entering him, he opened himself as much as he could. It was different than his awkward forays with Darin, and not just because it was a different penis. Mitch was slow and deliberate where Darin was brutal and thrusting. He waited without being told until Sam was able to relax his sphincter, but once he was past that barrier, he slid still slower and slower, measuring his advance against Sam’s gasps and grunts and his eventual push for more.

He was so careful Sam forgot himself, forgot everything in the world except for taking this cock deep inside his body. Mitch seemed to have turned into some sort of garden hose, he was so damned long, and Sam had visions of Mitch slithering into his belly. But after what seemed like an hour, Mitch’s hips pressed to Sam’s bare cheeks, and he was inside.

It was amazing. Sam was stuffed full, but not uncomfortably so, nor painfully. He shut his eyes and sank into the sensation, uncaring of the chill air, untroubled by the pressure on his knees.
So good.
The world was so good with Mitch inside of him—he didn’t know if it was Mitch himself or just someone who actually knew how to fuck, or what. He’d never felt this way, ever, and he never wanted it to end. The whole world melted away, and in that moment he didn’t care about his aunt, or school, or being a loser, or anything at all. He’d steal a thousand condoms, a trailer full of lube to be this full, this good, even for five minutes. It was wonderful. It was amazing. It was
perfect
.

Then Mitch began to move, and perfect gave way to a sensation which could not be described with mere words.

Slippery. Hot. Wet.
And
tight
, oh God, so tight. Sam bent himself farther over the box, opening his mouth and biting the cardboard as the shudder of Mitch’s movement resonated in the back of his teeth. The best was when his penis slid over Sam’s prostate. It sent electricity through his veins and pumped liquid nitrogen into his system over and over again. His own dick was rock-hard, and he was moaning too, soft, breathy gasps each time Mitch moved inside him.

“How you doin’, Sunshine?” Mitch’s question was a guttural growl, and he punctuated it with a squeeze of Sam’s ass. “You ready for something with a little more kick?”

When Sam grunted and nodded his assent, Mitch pulled back, and Sam readied himself for a more aggressive assault.

Instead, Mitch withdrew entirely and didn’t immediately return. Sam recovered enough to glance over his shoulder as Mitch peeled off his button-down and balled the shirt into a makeshift pillow before bending down and nudging it at Sam’s knees. “Up.” He slid his palm gently over Sam’s bare ass. “I don’t want you to remember this by thinking how badly it fucked over your knees.”

The gesture touched Sam, making him feel soft inside as he lifted one knee and then the other, letting Mitch prop him onto the shirt to his satisfaction.
So much better than a pizza box.
When Mitch finished his preparations and took Sam into his arms, Sam closed his eyes and leaned against Mitch’s chest, mouth open as Mitch pushed inside of him once more, and then, on an impulse that seemed to come from the bottom of his soul, he turned his face toward Mitch and captured his lips. He felt Mitch’s surprise, and the saucy trucker became almost shy, his tongue darting out tentatively to taste Sam’s own. When Sam would have deepened the kiss, Mitch broke away, trailing open-mouthed to Sam’s ear, where he nuzzled along the edge before biting lightly at the lobe.

“I’m gonna fuck you now. You ready?”

“Yes.” Sam clutched at him wherever he could find purchase. “Oh God—fuck me, Mitch.”

“Hard, Sunshine?”

Sam shivered. “Yeah.”

Mitch brushed his lips against Sam’s cheek. “Then bend over, baby, and hold on.”

It was a slow re-entry, but once Mitch pushed deep, slow was over. He pulled back, almost exiting, and then he pounded Sam, slamming Sam into the box and forcing the air from his body. The trailer filled with the
slap, slap, slap
of flesh on flesh, a sound both jarring and soothing to Sam at once.