But for tonight, this would be enough for both of them.

“Gannon.” Cam’s strangled groan matched the tortured expression on his face.

Gannon never took his eyes off Cam’s face as Cam used his mouth, fucking him slow and steady.

“Fuck,” Cam bellowed. “So good. Never wanna stop.”

Reaching for Cam’s shaft, Gannon applied pressure, stroking him in time with his mouth, sucking him hard while using his other hand to knead Cam’s heavy balls. He focused all of his attention on Cam’s impending climax, pushing him higher and higher using only his mouth and his hands.

Cam released Gannon’s jaw, lifting his shirt higher against his stomach, one hand still fisted in Gannon’s hair as he watched the action between his legs. Gannon dropped his eyes to Cam’s torso, admiring his beautiful body. The smooth ridges of Cam’s abs flexed as he jerked his hips forward. The impressive muscles that arrowed down, forming a V, contracted and released with every move. It was so fucking sexy watching Cam come undone. Gannon was eager to do it again and again.

Another rumble escaped Cam’s throat. “Gonna come in your mouth.”

That was right where Gannon wanted him.

Eyes locked on Cam’s, he felt the moment Cam reached that pivotal point. Cam’s hips began to thrust harder; his hand pulled at Gannon’s hair, sending shards of pleasure-pain darting down Gannon’s spine.

Gannon’s dick was like a steel rod, hard enough to pound nails, but he didn’t reach for it, didn’t take his attention off Cam for one single second.

“Gannon,” Cam cried out. “Oh, fuck. Gannon, gonna … come.”

Cam’s dick pulsed against Gannon’s tongue. Closing his mouth around the thick shaft, Gannon sucked him, milking every last drop from him until Cam leaned back against the wall, eyes closed.

Launching to his feet, Gannon plastered his mouth to Cam’s, wanting him to taste himself, needing Cam to know that he was the one to control Cam’s pleasure regardless of how it seemed from the outside.

Cam kissed him back fervently, his hands wrapping around Gannon’s neck as he whimpered against Gannon’s mouth. It was the sweetest thing to see Cam come apart like that. And he looked forward to the day he made Cam come undone while Gannon claimed him in the most primal, basic way possible.

Until then, this was enough.

It would have to be.

Fifteen

Teague Carter was so fucking pissed he couldn’t see straight. His blood roared in his ears, a red haze obstructing his vision as he paced, trying to work off some of that pent up anger.

It wasn’t helping.

Not only had that homophobic, redneck prick pushed him to the breaking point, but then Hudson had fucking stuck his nose where it didn’t belong.

“Goddamn asshole,” Teague bit out, kicking a box of tools that was sitting in the middle of the floor. Metal clanging against metal echoed in the room before silence took over once again.

The sound of squeaky hinges had Teague spinning around only to find Hudson leaning against the open doorway of the small boat shop office, staring back at him. Lulu came trotting out of the office, licking Teague’s hand in an effort to get his attention.

Teague had thought he was alone, but he should’ve known Hudson would be lurking in the shadows. The man worked day and night, all the time, sometimes sleeping in the small office inside the boat repair shop rather than going home. Teague had caught him there more than once, his long, lean body passed out on the couch, feet hanging off the ends…

Not helping, Carter.

The last damn thing Teague wanted to do was to think about Hudson. Not like that, anyway.

“What the fuck do you want?” Teague snapped, knowing Hudson wouldn’t say anything.

He never said anything. Ever.

Granted, that was partly because he was mute, but whatever. In the last year, ever since the man had started working at Pier 70, the guys had gotten pretty damn good with sign language, communicating with Hudson easily, but for some reason, Hudson chose not to talk to Teague. Not that Teague would’ve understood much of what he had to say, but he knew enough ASL at this point to get through the workday. As for a casual conversation, no, he probably wouldn’t be able to keep up.

Since they didn’t have casual conversations, it didn’t fucking matter, did it?

“I can’t believe you fucking broke up that fight,” Teague said, addressing Hudson directly. “It was none of your goddamn business.”

As he stood roughly fifteen feet away from him, Hudson’s emerald-green eyes trailed every move he made, and Teague did his best not to admire the thick muscles of Hudson’s biceps as they bulged beneath the white T-shirt he wore when he crossed his arms over his chest.

Hell, Teague had been trying not to admire a lot of things about Hudson as of late, and tonight’s encounter should’ve made it even easier.

Fucking pissed, remember?

“Why’d you do it?” he asked Hudson, staring back at him, making sure to maintain eye contact.

The only answer he got was a shrug from those broad shoulders. Teague did notice a muscle flex in Hudson’s rigid jaw, those green eyes locked on him. Something about the way Hudson watched him… It made Teague feel like prey being hunted.

And for whatever fucked up, masochistic reason, Teague fucking loved that shit. Something about Hudson—big, brooding Hudson Ballard—made his dick hard, made him want things he knew he could never have with a man like him.

They had nothing in common other than they were both pretty damn good with a boat motor and enjoyed the hell out of being on the water. Past that … Hudson was at least six years older than Teague, somewhere around thirty-one, he didn’t talk, didn’t go out, and he worked too damn much. And Teague usually liked his men shorter, not quite so intimidating. He didn’t mind that he had to look up at Hudson, that was actually quite sexy when he really thought about it, but Hudson made Teague feel… God, what was the word? Weak? Fragile?

Submissive?

Yeah, maybe.

Not that it mattered. None of it mattered.

“Well, you should learn to mind your own goddamn business,” Teague ground out, turning away from Hudson and praying like hell the man didn’t see the interest he was trying desperately to hide.

Hell, he’d been working double time for the past year fighting his attraction to Hudson. He didn’t think the other man had a clue, but there were a few times he’d seen Hudson watching him. Only Teague could never read his expression clearly enough to know what he was thinking.

Balling his hands into fists, Teague fought the anger that surged through him. It wasn’t only because of the prick who’d thought Teague had been interested in his fiancée or the fact that Hudson had practically tackled him in an effort to pull Teague off the guy. No, this had been building for months, ever since…

Nope. Not going there tonight.

Kicking another box, he growled, trying to fight the red haze that threatened to consume him. He was gearing up to kick something else when a callused hand wrapped around his bicep and spun him around. He turned to find Hudson behind him, staring down at him with a snarl curling his lip. And because he was a fucking idiot, the first damn thing he thought was how fucking hot Hudson was when he was pissed. The second thought was how he wanted to know if Hudson’s lips were as soft as they looked, if the dark stubble that lined Hudson’s angular jaw would leave marks on him if he did kiss him.

And the third thing Teague thought was how he wanted to punch the fucker in the mouth.

Hudson shook his head, clearly reading Teague’s intention on his face.

“Then leave me alone.”

Hudson glanced down at the tools now scattered on the floor, then back up at Teague, cocking one dark eyebrow as though to tell Teague he needed to clean the shit up.