by Kate Meader
“Bene, polpetto?”
Cade nodded, his head too heavy for his neck, feeling drugged on the man gazing at him and all the pleasure he was hand delivering. “What’s—pol—petto?”
Dante smiled, lazy and sexy. “It means meatball. It means I like you.” He licked Cade’s lips, then curled inside his mouth with tongue thrusts that matched the rhythm of his fingers. Another stroke over his prostate, and Cade whimpered and bit back a moan.
“The only person who’ll hear you is me,” Dante murmured, at the same time a threat and a promise. “Be as loud as you like.”
Was this guy some sort of mind reader? Cade had fallen back on his usual MO: censoring his behavior, constantly aware of his environment and who might see or hear him being gay.
Dante was still talking. “Swear, moan, shout my name. Whatever you need, because with me you can be honest. You’re safe here, no need to hide who you are, no need to suppress all those dirty needs and desires. Loud and proud, tesoro. Wanna hear it.”
No other words could have made Cade feel so protected.
“Need more.” Still nibbling and licking at Dante’s mouth, he moved a shaky hand down his torso and gripped the Italian’s rock-hard erection. “Need this.”
“Oh yeah?” Dante murmured. “Where do you need it?”
“Inside my mouth, then . . .” He hesitated, conscious that he’d never gone this far with a guy before. Had never wanted to.
“Yeah? Where else, Cade? Where else might this cock be welcome?”
“My ass. Deep. Need it so bad.”
Dante kissed him again, moaned into his mouth something else in Italian, and pulled back, withdrawing his fingers. “Okay. First, show me how good you can suck me.”
Cade crawled down, licking Dante’s chest, suckling his nipples, biting along his hipbone, nuzzling that perfect indented V that led to his groin. And when his mouth closed over Dante’s cock, Cade’s sense memory flooded with that nostalgia you get when you taste or smell something that reminds you of home. The salty pre-come coating his tongue tasted like paradise.
He ran his nails along the backs of Dante’s thick, muscled thighs, loving the reaction that induced a flex of Dante’s hips, a raspy Dio mio, a thrust farther into Cade’s mouth. So he did it again: long, teasing scrapes up his thighs, over his ass, that led to a soft press against his entrance. And every time Cade went there, Dante would let out an animalistic grunt that found a corresponding reply in Cade’s balls.
Cade loved Dante’s fingers inside him, but it wasn’t for everyone, so he was careful about assuming Dante needed that, too. Scraping, rubbing, and testing, he listened to Dante’s body, but every time he pressed further, he’d lose his focus on the dick-sucking part. He’d never had to think of logistics when it came to sex, like plays on the rink. All his previous encounters were quick, impersonal jerk-offs, the goal to come fast and move on.
Not with Dante. He loved getting to know this man’s turn-ons, quirks, what made his body thrum and his dick harder than a hockey stick. When Cade was better at this gay stuff, he’d figure out the coordination. For now, he’d just focus on sucking the guy’s brains out of his cock.
Just when he’d found the perfect rhythm, a strong hand cupped his jaw and gently separated mouth from dick.
“If you want me inside you—properly—then this needs to stop right here.” Dante panted that out, his glazed eyes showing how close he was. And Cade was close to blowing his stack as well. “On your stomach, Burnett.”
Christ, this is it. Would now be a good time to mention his distinct lack of experience with this part of the gay-sex playbook? Probably not, and anyway, he was all caught up in watching Dante roll a condom on and slather on a ton of lube. Good. High quantities would make this easier, because Cade had no doubt this was going to burn.
No. Sharing that detail would not help, especially as Dante was already twitchy about the ethical minefield they were tiptoeing through. Tell the guy he’d be breaking in an ass virgin, and Cade would be out on his ear before you could say arrivederci.
This time, with no cannoli.
He dropped to his stomach and pulled his knees up, so his ass was right there, begging for it. The sharp intake of breath from Dante was immensely gratifying. He rubbed lubed hands over Cade’s ass, kneading and squeezing, and shit, that felt so good. At least, until the kisses along the ladder of his spine escalated the sensation to another level. Weird how the combination of soft kisses and forceful massage worked to create this pitch-perfect response in Cade’s body.
And then Dante bit one of his ass cheeks.
Cade’s moan filled the room, then Dante filled him. Not slow, like he was testing Cade’s ability to take him, but a hard thrust that made Cade’s eyes water. Thank God they weren’t face to face, because if they were, Dante would be left in no doubt of Cade’s current status: new to anal.
“Fuck, you’re tight, polpetto.”
Cade released a breath, then waited for the worst—that drag out he knew was necessary to get to the good stuff. But it didn’t happen. Dante held himself still, like he’d achieved some sort of Zen inside Cade’s body. And with that wait, the pain subsided, and turned almost tolerable and—shit, that slide out really fucking hurt!
He bit down on the pillow and counted off in his head. By the time he got to three, Dante was thrusting again, only this time the burn was more tingle, and then the tingle was more an increasing warmth as Dante hit that spot. Oh yeah. Right there, baby. Unbelievably pleasurable sensation was spreading out along spokes to his balls and his cock, up his spine, and down his thighs. Even his feet had started to sizzle.
One of Dante’s hands, previously on Cade’s hips, coasted up the back of his neck, and there was the possessive grip Cade so loved. Feeling more confident and no longer content to just lie there, Cade pushed back on Dante’s cock, squeezing him every time he drove deep, holding him tight until Dante moaned as loud as Cade. He was clearly digging it, loving every viselike clamp Cade made. And Cade was loving it, too—until Dante pulled out.
About to start whining about why Dante had stopped, Cade suddenly found himself on his back with the perfect manhandled move that Cade craved when it came to Dante. Beast on the ice, Beast in the bedroom. Cade’s thighs instinctively spread wide, accommodating Dante as he resumed drilling him. Face to face, again and again.
“Fuck, yeah, borchia. Just like that. Harder.”
For a moment, Cade regretted reminding Dante he was the boss, but borchia also meant stud. And that’s what this guy was. His studly boss, and as far as Cade was concerned, the man could fuck him each and every night for as long as they lived.
As for Dante? He didn’t look like he was regretting a single thing. The pounding increased, their sweaty bodies rubbing and gliding with every punishing thrust.
“Touch yourself, Cade,” Dante said between long, consuming strokes. “Pump that beautiful cock of yours.”
One touch of his hand to his dick and Cade almost died with pleasure as the broad head leaked, warning of the release to come. He came, long thick spurts all over his abs and torso, and still Dante stroked balls deep, each slide producing another rattle until Cade’s dick felt nothing but twitches and aftershocks.
Within seconds, Dante’s jerky thrusts gave way to his own orgasm, hot and perfect inside Cade’s body even with the condom. Fueled by the clench of Cade’s inner muscles, Dante’s release seemed to last an eternity, and nothing beat watching his eyes burst into blue flames as he hit that peak.
Just like before, their mouths went crazy on each other, independent of all thought and action, everything distilled to this moment Cade would never forget. Exhausted—more mentally than physically—Cade lay beneath Dante, sweat-bonded to the Italian’s body. He closed his eyes, exhaling his way back to normal.
Though he wondered if he’d ever feel normal again—and he wasn’t just talking about how his ass had been gloriously used during the last twenty minutes.
Now for the
true test.
Ten seconds later, cool air hit Cade’s clammy skin and the mattress shifted—Dante was already leaving the bed. He guessed that said it all. Cade watched as that perfect ass walked away toward the bathroom. The man was in better shape than pretty much any other guy Cade had been with. The way those ass muscles bunched, the broadness of his shoulders tapering to those trim hips—Cade felt the stirrings of interest again.
Dante came back in, holding something. He sat on the bed. “Let me take care of you while the cloth is warm.”
“What?”
Dante gestured to the washcloth in his hand, then Cade’s stomach.
“Oh, right.” Dante wanted to clean him up. Was that routine? Did he know how new Cade was to this? His beautiful boss moved the warm, wet cloth over Cade’s body, each swipe prying open something inside him.
He wanted to ask Dante a million things, number one being: Was I any good?
But he didn’t want to get caught up in that kind of sentiment—or clue Dante in on how special this had been—so he asked roughly, “You want me to leave?”
“Why? Got some exclusive gay club you need to haunt?”
Nope. He’d found what he was looking for.
Without waiting for an answer, Dante turned off the bedside lamp and pulled back the covers. “Get in.”
And then he kissed him, nothing too intense, just a feather-light brush that tingled low in Cade’s gut and high in his chest. A barely there kiss that meant the world.
TEN
For a few seconds, Cade wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. His body felt lethargic. Weighted down.
Someone was lying half on top of him, legs entangled with Cade’s, a thick, matted forearm curled possessively across his chest. Another weight was pressed against his ass, and wow, how good did this feel? Waking up on a lazy Sunday morning with Dante Moretti wrapped around him like a teddy bear. A sexy, hairy, did-he-say-sexy teddy bear.
Just when Cade thought it couldn’t get any more perfect, Dante shifted against him as if he needed to be closer, though this was technically not possible unless . . . okay, it was possible, and Cade was up for that.
Probably. He clenched his muscles, checking in on the morning-after condition of his ass. It would be understandable if that area was a little reluctant to indulge in a vigorous workout so soon after the first time.
Ass replied with, Houston, we are a go!
He pushed back, rubbing against that part of Dante that clearly wanted to pay a visit to Casa Cade.
Dante’s mouth got in on the act with shiver-inducing kisses along the nape of Cade’s neck, followed by breathy moans in his ear. Cade moved Dante’s hand down to cover his own morning wood, and Dante took charge with leisurely strokes.
“Morning, polpetto.”
Polpetto. Cade never thought he’d enjoy being called a meatball, but Dante said it was because he liked him. He smiled into the pillow. This was the life.
Something buzzed—a phone—and Dante’s hand stopped doing what Dante’s hand was doing best.
“I should check that.”
“Do you have to?”
“It could be—”
“A hockey emergency?”
Dante smiled as he leaned over Cade to the opposite nightstand, sliding a kiss across Cade’s lips as he did so. “Hold on to your dick.” He picked up the phone, the smile quickly fading.
“So it is a hockey emergency?”
“No, it’s Harper. I’d forgotten that I’m supposed to be meeting her and Remy for brunch.” He didn’t sound too pleased about it.
“No problem; let me get my jeans on. I’m sure she won’t mind one more.” At Dante’s frown, Cade punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Uh, that’s a joke, Moretti.”
“She’s trying to set me up with someone.”
Record scratch. “Over brunch?”
“Yeah.” He was already texting. “She’s got it into her head that I’m lonely and need to meet people.”
“Are you? Lonely?”
“I wouldn’t say lonely.” He didn’t even look up from his phone. “But I’m new in this city, and meeting people isn’t a terrible idea. She’ll need to up her game, though, because this guy she brought to dinner at her place last week was an asshole.”
Dinner. Last week. Asshole.
Needing to ensure his voice didn’t emerge in an unmanly squeak, Cade counted to three before he spoke. “So, you’re dating?”
“No. I’m sitting and eating with men that Harper thinks I’d like.”
Which sounds a lot like fucking dating to me.
“She knows a lot of people. And . . .” Dante raised his gaze from his phone, a coolness in his eyes that hadn’t been present since Cade showed up at his door last night. “I’m open to dating.”
Unlike Cade, who was most definitely not. At least, not for real. His heart was beating so loud that surely Dante could hear it. Surely the whole world could hear it.
Dante frowned. “Does that bother you?”
“Yes.”
Dante put the phone back on the nightstand and faced Cade, leaning up on his elbow. “While I admire your honesty—it’s kind of hot, actually—I also have to tell you that what you think on this topic is of no consequence.”
That record scratch was now a record needle stab in his brain. But Dante was a straight shooter, and why should he be anything less in this situation? Well, good ol’ Cade Burnett could be just as forthright about his needs.
“If I asked you not to go to brunch with that guy and stay in bed with me, what would you say?”
Dante smiled. Several of Cade’s brain cells gave up the ghost. “I’d say that you’re going to have to persuade me.”
Cade curled a hand around Dante’s neck, watching for that flare of lust to ignite in his eyes. Come on, come on— There it is!
His mouth found Dante’s, warm and welcoming. If he could keep his interest, maybe the guy wouldn’t need the rest. A real, out-in-the-open relationship. Hell, the challenge to make this man his without him even realizing he was falling—Cade liked that. He liked it very much.
He drew back. “Persuaded?”
“Kind of had my heart set on eggs Benedict.”
“Oh you did, did you?” Cade pushed him flat, pinning Dante’s strong arms over his head. Their hips clashed, their cocks got reacquainted, and then they were kissing, frenzied pulls on each other’s lips, tongues mingling and tasting.
“How about I scramble your brain with the blow job of your life and then make French toast?”
As Cade slid down Dante’s body, he heard a rustily uttered groan of, “Deal.”
Dante had no idea what he was doing.
Ostensibly, he was watching a hockey game in his living room, but really he was watching Cade Burnett watching a hockey game in his living room. Every time anyone came close to scoring, the Texan shot to his feet. If it was an offensive play from the Boston Cougars, he’d look at Dante and say, “But that used to be your team, Dante!”
Of course, he was the same when the Spartans got into the attacking zone. He was just excited about hockey, and that excited Dante. Dante could watch this guy all day, all night, maybe all his days and all his—quit it. It’s just a crush.
They’d spent the entire morning in bed before Cade left to move some furniture for Violet. Dante hadn’t expected him to return for dinner—his mom’s world-famous chicken Milanese—and assumed he’d watch the game with his teammates at the Empty Net, a bar near the arena where all the players hung out. But it seemed that neither of them was ready to call it a day. Not when there was so much skin to be explored, so many kisses to be crafted, and so much pleasure to be wrung from each other’s bodies.
Or maybe Cade was in this for the food.
The first break came, the score still a goal-less draw. Cade now gave Dante his entire focus, flipping his gaze over his body with something like disapproval.
“What?” Dante looked down at his tee and jeans. “I can’t wear a
suit all day. And especially not on a Sunday at home.”
“No, I was just thinking that you’re sitting in that armchair and I’d prefer if you were on the sofa. With me.”
Dante’s heart skipped a beat. Cade had this look on his face, like the idea of not being able to touch Dante was his personal hell.
“How long do you think we’ll be able to watch this game if we’re within touching distance?”
Cade patted the cushion beside him. “Let’s give it a shot, shall we?”
By the time the next period started, Dante couldn’t focus on a single play. Cade couldn’t seem to relax, either, slipping sly looks his way, twitching his sexy mouth like he was building up to saying something.
“You’re thinking awfully loud over there, Burnett.”
“So no one at Boston is gay?”
“Not that I know of.”
He considered this. “But somewhere else?”
“Do you think I’m running a Gay Confessions club? Curious, questioning, confused? Let me touch your hockey-playing dick and make a determination.”
Cade smiled. “I think if anyone’s gonna know, it’s you.”
“Why? Does my tokenism as a managing executive who happens to be gay make me more approachable to my tribe? Bless me, Dante, for I like dick?”
“Well, I came to you.” Cade gave another smile, but this one trembled around the edges of his mouth.
Shit. Dante reached for him, cupping his jaw when he tried to turn away. “Sorry, I’m being a jerk. I know it’s tough for you, hiding who you are.” He rubbed a thumb along his lower lip. “I’ve been there and it’s the worst feeling in the world. I’m glad you told me, but would you have if I hadn’t spotted you at that club?”
Cade scrunched up his mouth and suddenly it hit Dante like a puck to his head:
“You were there for me. You wanted me to find you.”
Cade’s shoulders relaxed by a degree. “I’d never been there before. Some guy I know, this hookup I don’t hook up with anymore, was always trying to get me to go, but it seemed so risky. He said he’d seen you there a couple of times, so I thought I’d give it a shot.”
