Ryan Landers, the rugged cowboy with a pickup as dirty as his fantasies, meets his match when Zac Steele, the town’s bad boy with a penchant for getting his hands dirty, takes on the task of cleaning more than just the mud-caked Ford Ranger. This isn’t your everyday car wash; it’s a steamy encounter where the only thing hotter than the summer sun is the sizzling chemistry between these two.
The gravel crunches under the weight of Ryan’s truck as it pulls into the sunbaked lot, and the heat radiating off the asphalt seems to be nothing compared to the fire that’s about to ignite. Zac, with his bleach-stained tank top clinging to his chiseled torso, is already working up a sweat, the fabric caressing his damp skin as Ryan kills the engine.
“Soap and rinse,” Zac growls, his voice rough like gravel, as he drags a soapy sponge along the truck’s neglected surface. Ryan’s gaze is drawn to the rivulets of foam trailing down Zac’s tanned, muscular forearms, his body responding with an intensity that surprises him.
“Bottom edge’s dirty,” Ryan challenges, his voice a low rasp. Zac moves in closer, the scent of his raw, masculine sweat mingling with the sharp note of Old Spice. In a heartbeat, Zac’s hand is in Ryan’s hair, gripping tight, pulling him close with an urgency that steals Ryan’s breath away. Zac’s arousal is unmistakable, straining against the fabric of his pants, demanding attention. Ryan’s fingers fumble with Zac’s belt, desperate to unleash what’s been so impatiently waiting.
The cab of the truck is a sanctuary of sin, the air heavy with the musk of motor oil and the ghost of stale chewing tobacco. Ryan finds himself on his knees, the gearshift digging into his thigh as Zac claims his mouth with a savage intensity. Zac’s cock is a force of nature, pounding into Ryan’s willing mouth, each thrust a wordless demand for more. Ryan’s lips, his tongue, his throat work in a frantic dance, his own need growing with each passing second.
With a feral hunger, Zac spits into his hand, lubricating his fingers before he boldly invades Ryan’s most intimate place. There’s no room for tenderness here, only a raw, animalistic lust that drives them both forward. Zac enters him with a raw, unyielding force, each snap of his hips an echo of the desire that consumes them. The sound of their bodies colliding, the slap of skin on skin, is a filthy symphony that drowns out the world.
Ryan is lost in a sea of pleasure and pain, his fingers scraping against the hot paint of the truck as Zac drives into him, again and again. The crescendo builds, an unstoppable wave of ecstasy that crashes over them as Zac empties himself with a guttural roar, flooding Ryan with a searing heat that leaves them both spent and utterly satisfied.
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