Bad Attitude

by K.A. Mitchell

  “In my truck, yeah.” Jamie leaned back against the painted cinder blocks covering the elevator shaft. He’d picked up another skewer somewhere along the way, splintering it into a toothpick. He tucked the fragment back into the corner of his mouth. “Why? What did you have in mind?”

  Gavin leaned in and pulled the bamboo stick free. But before he answered with the hard kiss he’d intended, the challenge in Jamie’s eyes stopped Gavin mid-lunge. The bored arch of brows over half-rolled eyes suggested Jamie was expecting that response. That he already knew how the whole thing would play out.

  Gavin was nothing special. Even wanting to lose himself in feeling something as honest as pure sex for a few minutes was only another layer of faking it through tonight—every fucking night of his life.

  He leaned in and tasted Jamie’s mouth with slow, soft pressure, the way Gavin had wanted to when that wide full mouth came into focus the night on the boat. After a quick inhalation, Jamie kissed him back.

  A slick, warm slide then the pressure of Jamie’s tongue sent a shock down Gavin’s spine. Rooting him here, making this something real. Jamie licked inside, and Gavin cradled Jamie’s head, thumbs across his cheeks before locking around his neck to drag him deeper into the kiss that filled Gavin’s head, squeezing out everything but this new smell and taste, the electric tingles where their skin touched, the sticky and sweet pulse in his cock and balls.

  Jamie’s tongue thrust solid and sure and knowing along Gavin’s, nothing like the frantic or hesitant ventures from a random waiter or discreet guest. It was the same cocky assurance Gavin had seen in Jamie as he held his own in the room full of power brokers, popping expensive hors d’oeuvres into his throat like he owned the place.

  Jamie’s hand latched around Gavin’s wrists and pulled him off. “So, we going to hold hands next or should we move this along before someone turns into a pumpkin.”

  Chapter Five

  Gavin forced a matching mocking smile to his face. “Just making sure your engine was ignited.”

  “I’ve got a full tank.”

  Gavin peered around the cinderblocks to check for traffic before palming Jamie’s crotch. He’d expected thick and solid, but… He ran his hand up the length before whispering in Jamie’s ear, “Kind of nice to find you not fully proportional.”

  Jamie grabbed Gavin’s hips and slammed them together. “You’re about to have some other expectations exceeded.”

  Gavin turned and reached for the storage closet door again.

  Jamie leaned a hand on it, crowding against Gavin’s ass. “Isn’t risking an audience part of the fun, part of what gets you off?” Jamie’s free hand slid around Gavin’s cummerbund and down onto his fly. “Does it make the whole boring pile of crap easier to put up with?”

  Jamie unzipped Gavin’s fly, pulled his aching dick free. A shudder ran through him as Jamie’s fingers wrapped tight and gave the barest touch of friction under the head. “Your cock’s out for anyone to see.”

  Those hands weren’t small at all as they stroked, milking precome to the tip until it tingled and burned at the slit. A rough thumb spread it, dipped for more. With a quick jerk on Gavin’s arm, Jamie spun Gavin to pin his back flat against the door.

  Jamie brought his thumb up between them. “Yeah, that gets you pumping, all right.” He smeared Gavin’s lips, shoving the thick, calloused digit into Gavin’s mouth.

  Gavin wanted to force the bitter salt intrusion out with his tongue, give one of his laughs and get Jamie smiling with a Thanks to some interesting accidents and curiosity I already know how I taste, I wanted to know about you, but the look in Jamie’s eyes made Gavin hollow his cheeks and suck instead. He swirled his tongue over Jamie’s skin as he thrust his thumb back over Gavin’s lips and in again.

  “This risky enough that you don’t need the high too? Knowing that any of your daddy’s rich friends could come by, see you getting your dick sucked. Does it make you feel important? Or is it a bad-boy thing?”

  Jamie released him, brought the thumb to his own mouth and licked.

  “I can see it makes you feel pretty damned good.” Gavin nodded at the tent in Jamie’s trousers.

  “I always do.” Jamie stepped in and kissed him, held Gavin’s head for a long possessive lick inside his mouth, as if he wanted to chase that bit of come, draw it back.

  Gavin had a lot more of it waiting. God, he’d had enough of waiting. He slammed his hips forward, because any friction on the spike of need between his legs was worth it, even what he could get from the brushed virgin wool covering Jamie’s cock.

  Jamie held on to Gavin’s face and swiveled out of reach of his mouth and hips. “I could have you here, fancy pants around your ankles and my cock up your ass, the mayor and my boss right on the other side of that wall.” Jamie tipped his head back. “But I don’t need that to feel like somebody.”

  Gavin stopped straining to get closer. The throb of denied want in his balls suggested this wasn’t going to end in smiles and departing nods of appreciation for a little relief from a dull evening. “I never said you did.”

  Jamie had this wrong. It wasn’t about risk or acting out some bad-boy role. Gavin simply wanted to get off.

  Gavin licked his lips and glanced down at the solid cock still hidden by fine tailoring. “But your suggestion isn’t without merit.” He gave Jamie the smile that had always managed to smooth things over, a touch of charm, mischief and acquiescence.

  Jamie leaned in, and all those aches turned sweet again. Jamie’s calluses offered exquisite friction as he stroked Gavin’s dick, those full lips coming closer, blue eyes hooded with want, need.

  Then Jamie stepped back and grabbed a roll of paper towels from a nearby rack to wipe his hands on. “Guess what? I’m not your party favor, Gavin, and this whole mess has already cost me enough. I’m not wasting the grand I spent on this suit.”

  He walked off down the hall, wadding up the paper towel and sending it slamming back into the elevator wall near Gavin’s head.

  Jamie had his suspicions about the identity behind the blocked number that had popped up on his phone four times over the past three days. It wasn’t the only reminder. Every day a new obscene addition had been made to the picture of Jamie and the Montgomerys someone had clipped from the paper and stuck on the bulletin board next to the locker room.

  The Wednesday after the party, the ignored caller left a voicemail. Jamie could handle the little prince just fine on his own, but it never hurt to have reinforcements. That’s what he told himself when he waited to listen to it until after he’d pushed back a plate cleaned of a good chicken parm. Taking out his phone, he shot a glare over at the smug lucky bastard across the kitchen table from him.

  “Urgent business?” Quinn asked.

  “Gives me something to do when I need that nicotine hit after dinner. Which was great, by the way, kid, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Like there was some national chair shortage, Eli plopped down on Quinn’s lap. “Thanks for offering to clean up.” He waved at the stacked mess occupying every counter.

  “I—”

  “Said you needed something to do to get you over the cigarette-after-dinner craving.” Eli leaned forward, no doubt rubbing his ass against Quinn’s crotch. “Do you still crave one after sex?”

  He hadn’t had sex with anyone but himself since he’d quit, but no way was he admitting that in a house where more laying went on than during Fleet Week in the harbor.

  “Like he’d have a way of knowing,” his ex-friend Quinn said.

  “Just because I haven’t hung up my balls in exchange for wedded bliss—”

  “His balls are right where they belong,” Eli interrupted.

  “He’s jealous,” Quinn suggested.

  “Well, he damned well should be.” Eli leaned back and wrapped his arms around Quinn’s neck.

  “He is in the room. Oh.” Jamie rocked back in his chair, tipping it on two legs. “Is this going to be one of those things?”
<
br />   “Sounds kinky.” Eli sat up. “One of what things?”

  “Couple things.” Jamie waved his phone at them. “Like where you start trying to fix me up with people.”

  Eli snorted a laugh.

  “Would that keep your hairy red ass from mooching meals twice a week?” Quinn tipped his head at Jamie until Eli did something under the table that made Quinn jump and hiss.

  Good. Jamie hoped whatever the kid had done still hurt. “Like hell your balls are your own.” He sneered.

  Quinn tried the whole steely gaze, but Jamie flipped him off anyway.

  “And what are you laughing at, brat?” Jamie looked at Eli.

  “No offense, but you really don’t strike me as boyfriend material.”

  “What? I’ve had boyfriends.” Jamie hadn’t thought of Colton, hadn’t had the dream for years, except the night Dad died. Now, twice in one month. He could see the grinning bastard as clearly as if eighteen years ago was yesterday. Yeah? How ’bout you blow me when I beat your ass down the other side?

  “Name one—not just someone you fucked more than once,” Quinn demanded.

  Jamie considered, rubbing his jaw. “Does it count if we had a meal between fucks?”

  “See.” Eli was laughing again. “That’s what I mean. And really, Jamie, I get it. You’re not a domestic type.”

  No, he wasn’t. God knew he didn’t need a lap full of snuggling club rat.

  Eli winked, like he was reading Jamie’s mind. “It’s not all bad. So, whose message were you checking?”

  “I wouldn’t know, because the two of you started giving me shit the minute I took out my phone.”

  “Check it now,” Eli suggested.

  Jamie held the phone to his ear to play back the voicemail. “What about that ride you promised me?” Gavin’s voice was seductive, teasing.

  “Christ, Montgomery, have some self-respect,” Jamie muttered.

  The voice changed, took on a self-conscious waver. “I know it’s utterly unimportant to you, but you did save my life, and I can’t seem to accept that you somehow despise me. I apologize for my presumptions at the party.” There was a light cough. “Perhaps I could make it up to you.”

  Jamie glanced at the phone for a second, like he could read the expressions on Gavin’s face through the screen that asked him if he wanted to save or delete. Which was the real man? Almost embarrassed, shy and apologetic, or the teasing come-on? Like Jamie cared enough to find out. His thumb hovered over delete when he felt his friends’ stares.

  “Gavin Montgomery?” Eli said.

  “Yeah.” Jamie saved the message and put the phone in his pocket.

  “You call each other?”

  “You were right here when I told you about that party. Hell, you and your boy Kellan played fairy godmother over me for a week.”

  “Thought that was only some show the old man was putting on,” Quinn said.

  “It was.” Jamie polished off the rest of his beer.

  “So why is he still calling you?” Eli asked.

  “What do you care?” Maybe Jamie could finally score one off the kid.

  “Because he’s fucking gorgeous. And he’s lived here for like ever and I’ve never met a single person who’s done him and—oh my God, did you? What’s he like?”

  He kisses like a wet dream and smells like sex outdoors on a bed of leather. Jamie smirked. “Do I look like a gossipy queen?”

  “Tell me you didn’t blow him off,” Eli begged.

  “I didn’t blow him.”

  “Yeah, yeah, badass top, whatever.” Eli waved that away. “But c’mon. He’s like gay royalty. Like a prince or something. You know his dad gave a huge check to marriage equality in Maryland even though the archbishop went to his house to try to talk him out of it?”

  “So?”

  “So?” Eli brushed his bangs out of his face. “Isn’t that cool?”

  Jamie supposed it was. When he’d finally told his parents a couple of years back, they’d seemed to be expecting it. All his dad had done was pull him aside and say, “For God’s sake, don’t parade it in front of your mother.” As if he’d made a habit of dragging random men home for the past twenty years.

  “You know one thing,” Quinn said. “I bet they have a cook. You could scrounge some meals there for a change.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Jamie. He’s just being Quinn. We love having you come over. And at least you get out of having to clean up.” Eli gave Quinn an exaggerated, smacking kiss and slid off his lap.

  “I’ll give you a hand,” Quinn offered.

  “Nah. I’m sure you’ve got papers to correct, or at least to bitch and moan about, ’cause summers off and six-hour days is such a fucking burden.” They could both leave him alone right about now.

  Quinn smacked Jamie’s back as he followed Eli from the kitchen. Despite the distraction of the mountain of dishes, Jamie slipped through the back door and into the yard. Taking a deep breath of humid air, he pulled out his emergency smoke. All the quitting plans said hanging on to it was a mistake, but knowing it was there made things easier sometimes. He ran it under his nose and put it between his lips.

  Montgomery wasn’t the pathetic one. Jamie was, moping in Quinn’s yard, again. Social life squeezed down to bowling league, sponging meals off friends and dreaming about a lover who’d been dead for almost twenty years. Jamie couldn’t blame all that on Dad’s death or quitting smoking. Or losing another bar-hopping buddy when Bobby and Terry decided to go the been-friends-so-long-we-might-as-well-be-lovers route.

  None of that could explain jerking awake to the sound of Colton’s neck snapping, the squashed melon sound of his skull on the rocks. Why couldn’t he get that other dream, the one where Colton leered and said, “Whatcha gonna give me for saving your ass on that jump, Donny?”

  The dreams couldn’t be because of that rescue. Montgomery and his party buddy sure as hell weren’t the first lives Jamie had saved. Fishing two wasted rich boys out of the bay wasn’t anything like Colton risking his neck to free Jamie’s fucked-up chute so he could get to his reserve—then breaking his own damn neck screwing around on some jungle ruin a few weeks later. That had nothing to do with his dad or smoking or his friends running to jump into monogamy as if they couldn’t wait to have their balls cut off.

  Jamie took the unlit cigarette and stared at it. Not gonna live forever anyway, Colton’s voice echoed in his head.

  “Don’t want to go out like Dad, though.” Jamie’s fingers shifted to snap it, crush it, let the sweet little leaves drift around Quinn’s yard, but instead he tucked it back into his boot and went inside to do KP.

  As he lifted up the heavy baking dish to slide it into the sink, he found a note. Not in Quinn’s tight cursive, but in uneven block letters. Call him back. Getting laid would help you relax better than a cigarette.

  Jamie wasn’t about to start taking orders from Quinn’s brat, but the orders coming from Jamie’s aching balls were a little harder to ignore. The note had him wondering for an instant. What would Gavin Prescott Montgomery be like out of his expensive clothes and riding on Jamie’s cock? He bet the guy loved getting pounded with his ankles as earrings. That way, Jamie could dive back into that sweet sexy mouth, that kiss so hungry it was as if Jamie was feeding him air.

  On the drive home, he put his phone on speaker and tapped the button to dial Montgomery back.

  “I’m glad you called.” Over the rumble of the truck it was hard to hear the nuances to tell him which version of the man Jamie was getting.

  “Yeah. Well. You were getting a little pathetic.” Jamie waited for a click to tell him he’d finally gone too far.

  “Where are you? I can barely hear you.”

  “In my truck.”

  “It’s loud.”

  “It’s— What did you want?” Jamie asked.

  “I wanted to apologize. And invite you to a party. A fun party. Nothing like what you suffered through before.”

  “Did I look like I
was suffering?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fuck you, Montgomery, you’re the one I left hanging.”

  “Gavin.” The way he spoke his name cut through the background noise and tinny echo, though it wasn’t loud. More intense.

  “Whatever.”

  “And don’t tell me I was the only one interested because there was plenty of evidence on your side.”

  “Plenty’s right.”

  “So.” Gavin took a deep breath. “What time should I pick you up Friday?”

  “For what?” As far as Jamie could remember, the only thing they’d agreed on was the size of Jamie’s dick.

  “The party.”

  “What kind of party?”

  “The fun kind. The clothes-optional kind. The kind where you get lucky.”

  “With you?” That would work for Jamie.

  “Maybe. If you’re not such an asshole.”

  “What if I already have plans?”

  “Washing your hair? Organizing your sock drawer?”

  “Excuse me?” Jamie didn’t need to invent an excuse, and no one had ever accused him of not being direct.

  “You like to talk big, but you’re afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Listen, Gavin…” Jamie weighted the name, drawing the syllables out into separate words, “…just because I don’t want to get roped into another round of you playing bad boy—”

  “I never said you had to play with me. It’s not a one-on-one kind of party.”

  There’d been a few semipublic adventures in his life, but while rules were usually something he ignored as much as possible, the one about avoiding arrest on public indecency had seemed like one to keep in mind. But at a private party… Jamie pictured a room filled with guys, no risk of raids, free from lame pick-up lines or wondering how to extricate himself in the morning.

  “So what are you afraid of?” Under Gavin’s challenge, Jamie heard Colton’s Not gonna live forever anyway.

  “The only thing that scares me around you is the potential for a drive-by manscaping.”