Dirty Laundry: A Tucker Springs Novel #3

another huge chunk of it simply sat frozen in shock. What was he doing? What in the world was he thinking, letting a stranger—a big, muscle-bound stranger—finger-fuck him and spank him and tell him to make more noise, and in public ? This was insane. This was crazy .
    This was so freaking hot he nearly melted from it. For once in his life, even his anxiety was turned on.
    What Adam loved more than anything else, though, more than the shame of the exposure and the rough way Denver told him what to do, how giving control up to Denver took away all his anxiety, all his fear.
    No fear . When was the last time he hadn’t felt any fear? Any at all? He was afraid when he was asleep as well as awake—his dreams were nothing but anxiety nightmares. When he was awake, his life was ruled by illogical rituals and paranoid habits, some standard obsessive-compulsive disorder traits, some unique to Adam alone, every last one of them born out of fear: fear of the unknown, fear of the known, fear of the chaos that was life. He was wired on such powerful meds he had to use sleep medication to come down, and even with that he was still afraid. He was afraid of what he wanted. Afraid of what he needed.
    He’d lost Brad, the only boyfriend he’d ever had, to fear.
    Right now, in the laundromat with Denver, Adam felt no fear. None. None . The only emotion he knew outside of being turned on beyond his wildest dreams was being so overwhelmed with relief that he wanted to cry.
    Denver’s free hand ran down Adam’s back, finding his spine through his shirt. “Let go, Adam. I told you: you’re safe. Turn off your head and let go, because I’ve got you.”
    Adam drew in a slow, shaky breath. He held it for a moment.
    Exhaling so hard he went boneless, Adam let go.
    Everything was gone now, everything but sensation. People may have come into the laundromat; Adam wouldn’t have known. All he knew was Denver and what Denver told him to do. Make noise: Adam made noise, grunting and moaning and sighing and eventually babbling about how good Denver made him feel.
    “Relax,” Denver told him as a third finger entered him. It hurt, but Denver went slow, stretching him. Adam focused on the sensation, letting the pain turn into a burn, letting Denver take him wherever it was Denver wanted to go.
    A rustling sound drew Adam briefly out of his lust-coma: condom. Denver was putting on a condom. God, he hadn’t even thought of that. What if Denver hadn’t put on a condom? What if he’d just fucked Adam without it? What if Adam had gotten a horrible disease, all because he’d let some stranger—
    A hand on Adam’s lower back stilled his whirling thoughts. “Easy. You’re okay.” The hand massaged him gently. “You need to stop?”
    Stop? No, he didn’t want to stop. “No,” he said out loud, because Denver had gone quiet and clearly wouldn’t resume until Adam clarified. Realizing that made him feel a little easier, and he tried to glance over his shoulder, needing to see that condom to feel completely okay. There it was, wrinkled and shiny and half-covering Denver’s not insignificant cock.
    Adam felt the last of his nerves slide back into rest position.
    “Thanks.” He met Denver’s gaze. “For thinking of the condom.”
    Denver lifted an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t fuck without one. Not without a hell of a lot of promises and a round of tests.”
    Even better. “Good to hear,” Adam said, and turned around again. The fingers on his back began stroking again, and Adam shut his eyes and drifted back to euphoria, deeper this time than when he had left.
    When Denver finally thrust his cock inside, Adam sighed out loud, a long, stuttering exclamation as his cowboy claimed him. Thick as a post, Cowboy was, his penis as beefy as the rest of him. Adam focused on how it felt inside him, sliding inside his channel, nudging against his prostate though not quite stimulating it. Whimpering, he tried to thrust back, but Denver clamped a hand on his neck and held him in place, forcing Adam to take his cock at Denver’s pace.
    Adam found he liked that hand on his neck almost as much as he liked the fat cock inside him, so much so that when Denver took it away he cried out again, and when that didn’t give him what he wanted, he whispered, “Please.”
    The big hand returned, thumb stroking the edge of Adam’s hairline, fingernails ghosting over Adam’s skin. Then Denver pushed him down, pinning him to the table.
    Adam relaxed and let