Chapter 48
With his free hand, Daryl clapped Mitch’s elbow, then massaged the tense muscles in Mitch’s upper arm. “You know, a massage would work wonders on this arm.”
“The doctor said to take it easy,” Mitch said with a laugh. “I don’t want to ruin this shoulder.”
Daryl gave him a coy smile. “I’ll be gentle. If you’re interested…”
Of course Mitch was.
* * * *
Eight years later, Daryl couldn’t imagine not having Mitch in his life. When they met, Daryl was instantly attracted to the older state trooper—something about the way Mitch’s dark hair was already peppered with gray, or the ramrod way he held his shoulders back, or the way his jeans hung on his hips. Daryl couldn’t put his finger on it, but when he saw Mitch eyeing him from across the room, he knew he wasn’t going to let the man walk out of his life so easily.
Daryl was always outgoing, bordering on flamboyant at times. He was quick to laugh and makes friends easily. Mitch, on the other hand, was quiet and reserved. His bulky frame filled out his uniform nicely. With his trim beard and mustache, his carefully groomed hair, and the thick, curly hair covering his arms and legs and chest, he looked like a gruff teddy bear. The first thing Daryl thought when he saw the dark hair on Mitch’s arms was, I wonder what that looks like between his legs.
He knew he had to find out.
Their first date ended with Daryl inviting Mitch into the small apartment he shared with his friend Wanda. The sight of the large man stretched out on his flannel sheets was an invitation Daryl couldn’t resist. As he warmed a tube of massage oil between his hands, he said, “I can take a look at that shoulder for you now, if you want.”
“Is that all you want to look at?” Mitch countered.
Daryl heard the soft sigh of fabric and turned to find Mitch bare-chested, his shirt discarded on the floor, his fingers already loosening the belt on his jeans. In two steps, Daryl was beside him, hands delving into the carpet of hair darkening Mitch’s pecs.
“You like?” Mitch asked, a coy sparkle in his eyes.
“I love,” Daryl admitted. Spreading his legs, he straddled Mitch’s knees and ran both hands through the chest hair. He loved a manly man, and Mitch fit the bill exactly. He bent down to rub his clean-shaven chin across Mitch’s muscles, feeling the pert nipples scrape across his skin. “Are you this hairy all over?”
“Get me out of these jeans and I’ll let you find out,” Mitch teased.
He wrapped an arm around Daryl’s waist, a heavy, welcome weight. Daryl didn’t want to move too far away, so he slid off Mitch’s lap onto the bed beside the trooper. Mitch lay back, unzipped his jeans, and shucked both them and his briefs to his knees with a fluid, well-rehearsed move. A fat cock jutted to attention from a mat of curly, kinked hair. Daryl couldn’t keep his hands from plunging into the dense forest of pubes.
Pressing his face to Mitch’s crotch, he breathed in deep the heady, musky scent. “God, I love a man with hair,” he moaned.
Mitch’s cock twitched at Daryl’s words. A firm hand clasped his neck, holding him in place. “You could’ve fooled me,” Mitch teased. “You’re as about as hairless as a school boy.”
“My Native American roots,” Daryl said, rubbing his cheek over the soft down of Mitch’s pubes. “I only have to shave like once a week, if that. I have like three hairs on my chest.”
Mitch laughed.
“I’m serious.” Daryl grinned, his gaze roaming over the expanse of bare skin to meet Mitch’s. “I counted them. I get a haircut once a year whether I need one or not.”
“So you like bears,” Mitch said. It wasn’t quite a question, but Daryl could hear the hope in his voice.
“I like you,” Daryl corrected. “You know what I’d like? To bend you over and slick down all the hair around your asshole with my tongue.”
Mitch’s cock twitched again as if eager to get things started between them. “Then what?”
Raising his hand, Daryl trailed a finger from the head of Mitch’s dick down the underside of its length, over the fuzzy nuts, then down into the V of Mitch’s legs. He tickled hidden skin, feeling it press around his digit as he sought the tight, puckered hole at Mitch’s center. When he found it, he breeched it ever so slightly with the tip of his finger. “I want in there,” Daryl whispered.
He didn’t think Mitch would go for it. Guys built like him rarely liked to bottom, as Daryl had discovered. Men like Mitch were the take-charge kind, who wanted to dominate in the bedroom. That was why none of Daryl’s relationships ever seemed to work out. Hewanted to call the shots. Hewanted a big, hot, hairy bear of a man kneeling before him, succumbing to him, taking himin.