Page 128 of The Bartender Special

“Okay?” Jack asked, immediately stilling.

Benny nodded, his hair tickling Jack’s chin.

“Yes. God, yes. You—You don’t have to stop. Trust me.”

And Jack realized he did.

Trust Benny.

Want Benny.

Need Benny.

So, he listened to the man.

Jack pulled back and pushed back in, deeper. He found a steady rhythm that made him grunt, moving with Benny’s body as he reacted. Knowing when to push harder, understanding when to hold back.

Until every sound Benny made, every time his hands scrambled for purchase on the sheets, went straight to Jack's ego.

And other places.

Jack adjusted his angle, lowering himself so he could feel Benny panting against his cheek.

“That's it,” Jack said against Benny's ear. His back arched, bringing them even closer.

There it was.

“Let me hear you, Benny,” he ground out. “Come on, baby.”

And Jesus, did Benny deliver.

The sounds he made were loud and unfiltered and so far from the quiet, anxious guy who had shown up at the bar a few weeks ago. So loud and effective that Jack felt something fierce and possessive surge in his chest.

This.

This was what Benny should have had the first time.

Someone who gave a shit about whether he was enjoying himself.

Jack wanted to make sure it lasted as long as possible.

He pulled out, earning a gasp from Benny, and turned the man over. Pulling him to his knees, he gave Benny a new angle to take him in at.

Then Jack thrust back inside.

This time, Jack wrapped his hand around Benny’s once-again hard dick.

“Jack—”

“Don’t worry—Don’t worry, I got you,” he assured him. Jack started stroking in time with his thrusts, feeling his own control start to slip.

Benny’s eyes closed, his dick pulsing in Jack’s hand.

Fucking beautiful.

“Jack,” Benny managed again, voice wrecked. “Jack, I’m⁠—”

“Come on, baby,” Jack said, his hand tightening its grip, his rhythm picking up in tandem. His words came out as harsh and raw as he’d ever heard them before. “Let me—Let me hear my name.”