His Old Kentucky Home by Brynn Paulin Page A

him, and even better sensation than anything else, but he knew the best was still coming. His hips shifted into the thrusts of Cord’s fingers then thankfully, Cord’s wide cock was there, the head piercing Sully’s tight ring of muscles. He drove in, filling his submissive. It could have taken a second or hours to get here; Sully didn’t know. All he knew was the perfect oneness with his mate, and that he was home, truly home, no matter where he was, as long as he was with Cord.
    Any scrap of coherent thought soon faded as Cord’s hands clamped onto Sully’s hips and started a steady rhythm that sawed over Sully’s prostate. His groin smacked into Sully’s well-spanked ass. Sensations overwhelmed Sully. He couldn’t differentiate pleasure from pain, Cord from himself, screams from silence, orgasm from the sub-space he found at Cord’s hands. He felt as if he were riding an almost-constant wave of near-release. He flung his hand out to the side, grasping the footboard to anchor himself to reality. His cries mingled with Cord’s grunts as they rocked together, two parts of one whole.
    Leaning over Sully, Cord cupped the back of Sully’s head and kissed him. Small sounds of extreme pleasure escaped Cord as he plowed in and out of his submissive’s ass, his chest gliding up and down Sully’s back with each drive. Pressed between the mattress and his lover, Sully had no choice but to surrender to the demanding cock plundering his ass. He couldn’t have moved if he wanted to. And he didn’t want to. This was where he was meant to be. He was the vessel of Cord’s happiness.
    As if hearing Sully’s thoughts, Cord growled and wrapped his arms under his lover, one forearm under Sully’s upper chest while the other was under his belly. He shoved his hips forward hard two more times before his guttural cry signaled his release. A new heat flooded Sully, and he dropped his forehead to the mattress, panting and smiling with utter happiness.
    Cord sprawled across him for several long moments as they caught their breath, his mouth pressing constant kisses down Sully’s neck and across his shoulders.
    “You’re amazing,” he praised. “Perfect.”
    Sully sighed, the sound almost a hum as his contentment tried to burst forth. “Thank you, Sir,” he murmured. His eyelids felt so heavy. Why was he so tired?
    When Cord withdrew then stood moments later, Sully slid bonelessly down the side of the bed to the floor. Chuckling, Cord lifted him into his arms and placed him in the middle of the bed, on his side. Sully closed his eyes and curled his legs toward his chest, still feeling the world throbbing around him as he floated. Vaguely, he heard water turn on. It ran for a few minutes then the sound disappeared.
    Gentle hands straightened his legs and removed the one boot, his socks and the jeans still around his ankles. His T-shirt, still bunched under his arms, followed. Then a cool cloth ran over his skin from his neck to his feet, cleaning away the traces of their sex. He heard the slap of the wet toweling as it was tossed into the bathroom. Cord turned him to his belly then another washcloth cleansed his backside, avoiding his rear. A second slap of wet fabric on tile followed.
    Sully hissed when Cord laid a third cloth across his buttocks. He left it there, cooling the skin as he massaged Sully’s limbs to loosened the muscles that had tightened, been strained or been stretched in odd positions during their play. He was always meticulous with Sully, his aftercare as important to the play as the sex itself—the level of it adjusting based on the intensity of their activity. It was one of the reasons Sully trusted him so much.
    When Cord finally settled in beside him, pulling Sully carefully into his arms, Sully snuggled close to him. Their legs twined as he listened to Cord’s heartbeat and Cord rubbed circles on Sully’s back.
    “Are you okay?” Cord asked him. “That was a little rough.”
    Sully chuckled.