Page 5 of Winning the Dad

My cock had never been this hard. Ever. Not even when I was younger. I didn’t hook up often anymore. Maybe it was my age—though fifty-one wasn’t that old—but it was just. Too. Much. Work. I couldn’t be bothered.

But this? This was as easy as breathing. Though that might be the wrong comparison, because with the way Jack was kissing me, I was quickly running out of air. I slapped a hand against that wall of a chest, and he broke off the kiss and took a step back. Major points for him.

“Too much?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Need to catch my breath. I’m asthmatic, and the smoke here doesn’t help.”

He scrunched his nose. “I hate that smell. It gets in your clothes, your hair, your skin. It’s disgusting.”

“Wanna take a shower? Get rid of the stench?” Shit, my mouth had a mind of its own. Showering was intimate, arguablyeven more than sex. Would Jack think it was weird? Would he be put off?

But Jack whipped his shirt over his head. “Excellent idea.”

I stared at his broad chest, covered in delectable fur. Holy shit.

This man kept surprising me. As a lawyer, I met all kinds of people from all walks of life, and I’d become good at reading people. But Jack? I couldn’t figure him out.

“Bathroom’s that way.” I pointed at the door.

“You mean it’s in the same spot as in my room, two floors below?”

I laughed sheepishly. “My brain is still recuperating after that kiss.”

Jack looked downright smug. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. You’re a great kisser.”

“Thank you. So are you.”

I managed to drag my eyes off his chest to undress and hang my clothes over the reading chair. Jack was doing the same, neatly placing his over the desk chair. “You’re tidy,” I said. “I like that in a man.”

Not that it mattered for a hookup, but making conversation couldn’t hurt.

“Years of running a bar will teach you that. Gotta stick to all the rules for the food inspection.”

Jack turned around.

Holy shit, the man was built like a god. Like freaking Zeus himself, minus the long hair he was usually depicted with. Jack’s hair was buzz-cut short, but it looked good on him, especially with his beard, which had some sexy silver sprinkled between the dark hairs. Other than that drool-worthy chest, he had biceps the size of my calves, thick thighs, and, best of all, a fatcock that stood at attention. His nose hinted at a Slavic heritage, making him even more masculine and sexy. As if he needed it.

“You’re very”—I swallowed—“hot.”

“More your type than Tim?”

Tim? Who the fuck was Tim? Oh, right, the twinky dealer. “Hell yeah. Ten years is about my max age gap. And I fear I’d break him in half with the kind of sex I like.”

“Mmm, you like it rough?”

“Yeah.”

What was this man doing here with me, discussing gay sex as if we were conversing about the weather? Okay, his son might be gay, but how was he so okay with this?

“If you want to shower…” He thumbed at the door. “It’s that-away.”

Right. I forced myself to walk into the bathroom, where I turned on the shower. This hotel had opted for spacious, luxurious stalls over bathtubs no one used, so we had a space big enough for two men. Even when one of them was Jack’s size.

“Water’s warm.” I stepped under the spray. I needed a moment to collect myself, to get in the right headspace.

“Do you want me to go?”