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A peek at PUSHIN’ BUTTONS coming June 10!
“Nah, we all know Archer wears briefs. It’s Hugh who goes commando.” Jack’s simple statement hooked Riggs square in the gut.
The first time Hugh had joined Riggs on a threesome, Riggs had nearly come when Hugh had slid his zipper down to reveal a trim patch of brown hair and his half-hard cock. No fabric barrier—just Hugh.
Behind Riggs, the door banged open, and footsteps sounded on the tile floor. “Speak of the devil,” Jack said.
Every hair on Riggs’s body stood on end.
“Mornin’, boys.” Hugh’s gruff tone didn’t invite response.
Riggs stared at his friend’s back as he poured himself a mug of coffee. Hugh held himself stiffly. Maybe all wasn’t paradise in Bungalow 9 after all.
When Hugh took a seat, it was at the far end of the table. He didn’t care that he looked surly to the others. It was one of the things Riggs loved about him—Hugh was his own man.
While Riggs was known on the ranch to never back away from a challenge or fight, he had no desire to let others get a glimpse of his inner turmoil.