Reckless (Pier 70, 1)

by Nicole Edwards

  “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.

  Wasn’t happening.

  Not tonight, anyway.

  Tomorrow morning, when he came back to work, maybe he’d be in a better mood. If not, Hudson would just have to deal with it.

  Hudson watched Teague continue to unravel in front of him. He’d sensed the volcano slowly building inside the man for some time now, and he’d been waiting for that moment when Teague erupted. It had been part of the reason Hudson
had interfered when no one else had bothered to jump in. Watching Teague wail on that guy in the parking lot… Hudson hadn’t wanted to see Teague go to jail tonight.

  That was why he’d interfered.

  Or so he told himself.

  “See you in the mornin’,” Teague grumbled, not meeting Hudson’s eyes.

  He hated when Teague did that. It was hard enough for Hudson to communicate, but when Teague refused to look at him, it was impossible. Although Hudson could hear just fine, there was no way he could communicate anything to Teague in return.

  But he knew when to leave well enough alone. As pissed as he was that Teague was taking out his anger on the tools, kicking them around like a recalcitrant child throwing a tantrum, he knew not to push the man.

  What he really wanted to do was back Teague up against the nearest wall, crowd him with his body, and feast on his mouth until the fight drained right out of him. But he couldn’t do that. They worked together, sometimes closely since Hudson was often needing help when the marina’s small boat repair shop got overloaded. The last thing Hudson wanted to do was make things more uncomfortable between them.

  “Sometimes I wish you could talk,” Teague muttered as he walked away. “That way I’d know what the fuck you were thinkin’.”

  No, little boy, you don’t, Hudson thought. The things that he thought about where Teague was concerned… Those were better left locked right there in Hudson’s head where they belonged.

  “Night,” Teague called out but didn’t bother looking back.

  Hudson didn’t even offer a wave as he watched him disappear through the side door and out into the night.

  For the longest time, Hudson had wanted to get his hands on Teague, to thrust his fingers in that spikey blond hair and devour Teague’s smart mouth with his own. Sure, the fantasies had gone much, much further beyond that, to the point Hudson’s body would hum from arousal so strong, so powerful, he could hardly contain it.

  But he knew better than to do something about it. Teague was too young, too immature. He was a player; he enjoyed going out to the clubs, spending the night with different men, and that was the opposite of what interested Hudson.

  Admittedly, Hudson had difficulty establishing relationships with people because it wasn’t easy to do when he couldn’t speak, couldn’t communicate how he felt. His inability to talk seemed to intimidate most people, and he’d spent most of his life alone.

  He’d gotten used to being alone.

  So, as always, he would pretend that Teague didn’t affect him the way that he did, and he’d find a way to deal with the hard-on pressing insistently against the zipper of his cargo shorts. Maybe if he dealt with that, he’d have a better chance of dealing with Teague tomorrow.

  Because he got the feeling this wasn’t over yet.

  Sixteen

  Wednesday night

  “Hey, boy,” Michael Strickland greeted when Cam walked in his father’s front door.

  “What’s up, Pop?” Cam replied, smiling as his father dropped the footrest on his favorite recliner, placed his newspaper on the table, and sat up straight. “Doesn’t look like you cooked for me.”

  Cam’s father’s lips quirked beneath his thick white mustache. His wire-rimmed glasses slid down his nose, and he pulled them off, folding them and laying them on the table beside him.

  “Didn’t know you were comin’,” Michael told him, hands resting on the armrests.

  “Yeah, well…” Cam hadn’t exactly known, either, but here he was. “How ’bout pizza?”

  Michael reached for the phone. “Same as usual?”

  Cam nodded, then flopped down on the worn sofa that faced the flat-panel LCD television hanging on the wall, stretching one leg out on the sofa. There was a baseball game on, but the sound was muted.

  This would work.

  He watched as the pitcher circled the mound, spinning the ball in his hand as he prepared for the inning. His father’s voice sounded from beside him as he rattled off their pizza order, then hung up.

  “What brings you by?”

  “Just wanted to chill.”

  It wasn’t unusual for Cam to show up at his father’s house unannounced. They were close, usually spending one or two days a month out on the water, several more hanging at the house to watch TV or work on one of the old cars his dad was attempting to restore.

  “Things good at the marina?”

  Cam nodded, clasping his hands together and resting them on his stomach. “Busy.”

  “Not a bad thing, huh?”

  “Not at all.”

  “How’re the boys?”

  “Keepin’ it lively,” Cam told him, turning his head to look at his father. “You know how they are.”

  Cam’s father was close to Roan, Dare, and Teague, and he wasn’t merely interested because of the fact he’d invested money in the marina years ago. Roan had been practically family since they were kids, spending as much time at Cam’s parents’ as Cam had at Roan’s. They’d been inseparable. And then shortly after Cam had graduated from high school, he’d met Dare when he’d worked at the Inks Lake Marina. They’d worked side by side and had become quick friends. Before he knew it, the three of them were hanging out often, and as he had with Roan, Cam’s father had welcomed Dare into their lives easily.

  It was the way Michael Strickland was. Ever since Cam’s mother had died unexpectedly, Michael had made a point to show Cam and Cam’s sister how much he loved them each and every day. According to Michael, life was short; not a second should be wasted.

  And through the years, they’d developed a close relationship filled with mutual respect and love. Michael would even stop by the office just to chat with Roan or Dare or even Teague when Cam wasn’t there. Rumor was, Dare was helping Michael to learn sign language so he could communicate with Hudson more effectively as well.

  In turn, they’d all forged a bond with him as well.

  “How’s Teague? Still ornery?”

  Cam smiled, turning his head back to face the television. “Not sure he knows how not to be ornery.”

  “I heard there was an altercation down at the marina last weekend.”

  Cam glanced at his dad again. “How’d you hear about that?”

  “Dare. I stopped in to chat yesterday but you weren’t there.”

  Heat infused Cam’s face and he turned away again.

  For a moment, neither of them said anything, and Cam had to wonder whether Dare had told Cam’s father that he was out on a date. Gannon had called at the last minute and offered to take Cam to dinner, insisting they go to a restaurant rather than eat in. Cam had reluctantly agreed, meeting Gannon halfway at a small café.

  “Did you have fun?” Michael probed, his gruff tone filled with amusement.

  Well, that answered that question.

  Cam choked on a laugh. “Yeah.”

  “Dare said he thinks this one’s serious.”

  Cam shrugged. Serious or not, he wasn’t going to explain the details of his relationship with Gannon to his father. Not yet, anyway. Hell, he wasn’t even sure how things were going. The last thing he wanted to do was get his father’s hopes up.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Michael noted.

  “I didn’t say that,” he argued.

  “Didn’t have to.”

  Cam didn’t look at his father, not sure he wanted to see the concerned look on his face. He pretended to be interested in the television, but that was easier said than done when there was a commercial on.

  “Tell me this, Cam.”

  Cam turned his head again, meeting his father’s dark blue gaze, waiting.

  “Is he good enough for you?”

  Cam couldn’t help but smile, turning back to face the TV.

  Although they’d had their differences over the years—what parent and child hadn’t?—Cam knew that he was lucky to have such a supportive old man. Cam’s mother—rest her soul—had been just as understanding, possibly more so up until the day she’d un
expectedly died.

  Cam fought the memories, not wanting to be overwhelmed by them. He missed his mother every single day, wished she were there for him to talk to.

  “He’s good enough,” Cam confirmed.

  “When do I get to meet him?”

  Another smile curved his lips as he kept his eyes on the baseball game. “Don’t know.”

  “Cam…”

  Aww, hell. He knew that tone, knew his father was going to say something that would make him want to cry. That’s the way it worked. Whenever it came to relationships, his father had his own view on things. It wasn’t that Cam didn’t understand it. He did. It was just too hard to listen to.

  “Dad—”

  “Nuh-uh,” Michael interrupted. “You listen to me, boy.”

  Respect for his father had him turning his head once again, staring over at the man who’d spent his entire life taking care of his family, working his ass off, risking his life for the town he loved.

  “Don’t let one minute pass you by,” his father said, tone soft but firm. “You never know what tomorrow’ll bring.”

  No, he didn’t. None of them did.

  And that was the reason Cam usually kept himself distanced from relationships. He wouldn’t survive falling in love with someone only to have them ripped out of his life unexpectedly. He’d watched his own father suffer for years, devastated by his loss. As far as Cam was concerned, his father was the strongest man he knew. His father had survived. How, Cam wasn’t exactly sure. But Cam didn’t think he could do it.

  And with Gannon, Cam feared he was already falling. Much harder, much faster than he’d planned. The idea that one day Gannon might not be in his life, might not be there for Cam to talk to, to tell him how he felt… It scared the ever loving shit out of him.

  As much as he wanted to get closer, he was petrified he’d be submerged into the darkness, having to live out the rest of his days alone.

  And he damn sure wasn’t equipped to do that.

  A knock on the door had Cam bouncing up from the couch.

  Saved by the pizza guy.

  Gannon lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling.