Dreamspinner Press Year Eight Greatest Hits

by Brandon Witt

  “Let it be said, let it be done.” I grinned. “Now get your ass out of my chair.”

  I felt a sudden prickling sensation between my shoulder blades, and before Drew even drawled “Well, look who’s here?” in greeting, I knew he was there. When I turned, Jordan was standing in my doorway, face impassive, looking damn near edible. Faded whitewashed jeans clung to his long legs like a second skin, and a faded pale blue Abercrombie and Fitch T-shirt clung to the rest. Jordan in a suit and tie was impressive, but he did casual very, very well.

  “Jordan,” I said.

  He seemed to ignore my greeting completely as he said icily to Drew, “Rodriguez.”

  “Channing.”

  Cold voice met colder voice, and my head whipped back and forth between the two of them. Confusion didn’t begin to describe it. Drew didn’t seem perplexed at all, which led me to wonder if they’d had some sort of confrontation I didn’t know about.

  I made big, scary eyes at Drew. Get out, they said. He ignored me.

  “You come for an update on your case?” he asked, leaning back in my chair again.

  “Which I can handle,” I said, making menacing eyes again.

  “Mac, weren’t you going to finish that report for the Blakes?” Drew asked innocently. “I’d be more than happy—”

  I gave up on subtle. “Get lost.”

  I closed the door on his laughter after he finally ambled his way out. I gestured toward one of the chairs in front of my desk. “Have a seat.”

  Jordan nodded and passed in front of me to take the chair I indicated. My eyes shot to his perfectly formed ass in those faded jeans like a googly-eyed yo-yo on a string, and I warned myself to be professional. The man shouldn’t be allowed to wear jeans. Before he could catch me ogling him like a horny teenager, I looked down at the manila folder Jennie had thrust at me earlier and unclenched my sweaty palm enough to read the label. Channing, Jordan.

  Damn. She was good.

  “What can I help you with?” I asked, taking a seat in my chair.

  “What’s up with you and Drew?”

  “What?”

  “You and Drew. Your business partner.”

  “I know who Drew is,” I said, confused. “I’m just not sure what you’re asking me.”

  “Forget it.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I’m not here about the case.”

  My breathing was doing this strange herky-jerky dance in my ears. “Why are you here, then?”

  “I’ve thought about what happened between us. A lot. Shit, listen to me going on, and I don’t know if it’s even crossed your mind.”

  Only every time I close my eyes. “A bit,” I said noncommittally.

  “Well, it’s crossed my mind a lot more than that.” He let out a huff of self-deprecating laughter that made my stomach flip. “And I’ve come to a conclusion.”

  “Yeah?” My voice was huskier than usual, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. If his conclusion involved anything about a repeat performance, the only question in my mind would be who could lock the door faster.

  “Yeah.” When he looked back up, his voice seemed different somehow. Different than he’d ever used with me. Unsure. Sorry? Piteous? I knew then that I wasn’t going to like what he was going to say. “There can be no relationship between us, Mac. It just wouldn’t… work.”

  My ears questioned me. You’re the ones who aren’t working properly, I argued with my ears. No, that’s what he said, they insisted. I sat there for a moment, sorting through the feelings coursing through my body. Disappointment. Anger, yeah. But not a drop of surprise. That fact made my shoulders slump briefly in acceptance. I was not, in fact, surprised at all.

  The proper thing to do would be to discuss how he wanted to close out the investigation. Thank him for his honesty and encourage him to call me if he needed anything. I was considering beaning him with the folder. I’ve never been overly mature.

  “Let me get this straight. No pun intended, of course. You came here to tell me that kissing me was a mistake? Is that about the whole of it?”

  He flushed. “Not a flattering depiction, to be sure.”

  “Not as unflattering as I wanted to be, Channing.”

  “We just don’t make sense, you and I. I can’t wrap my mind around changing something that’s been so completely unquestionable my whole life. I’ve thought about it, and obsessed over it, and it’s a bridge I just can’t cross. I just… can’t.” When he looked up at me through his lashes, those half-moon eyes filled with misery and something else I couldn’t define. I wanted to hate him. No, I wanted to despise him. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite up to the task. God. I told you relationships were a shit-fest.

  I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back in my chair. “I understand,” I finally said.

  He snorted. “No, you don’t. Your mouth is saying ‘I understand’ while your body language is saying ‘fuck off.’”

  “I meant English. I understand English, Jordan. You don’t have to keep repeating yourself. It was one kiss. It meant nothing.”

  He looked a bit taken aback. “So you’re… cool?”

  No. “Perfect,” I said coolly. “As for your case, I should be prepared to give you my final report within the week. I’ll be able to deliver the report via mail.”

  “All right. Okay.” He wiped his hands on his jeans, betraying his confusion. “Well, I suppose I should just go.”

  “Yes.” When I met his eyes, I knew he would remember. “You should.”

  He flushed and stood. “You’re angry.”

  “Bingo. Give that man a prize.”

  He stood there, watching me work in silence. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking up. He had done his dirty deed. Now he could go. Was I supposed to assuage his conscience as well?

  He came around the desk, next to my chair. I looked up, mouth agape at his brazenness as he propped himself up on my desk, hoisting himself onto the edge. Clearly Jordan wanted to hash this out. Dig up that dead horse and bring your stick so we can beat him to death again.

  “It’s not like you just know these things.” He shook his head. “I guess I’m just not as sure as you were. Newsflash: I’m not like you.”

  “That’s certainly what you seem to be telling yourself daily,” I murmured, shuffling through several of my files.

  He slammed a hand on my desk and made my eyes go wide. Apparently he wasn’t kidding about worrying over the decision. I let the manila folder drift to the desk in silence.

  “All right, you have my attention.”

  “Please stop treating this as a joke,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m trying to sort through something here, and whether you and I get together or not, you should be helping me with it. As my friend.”

  I was his friend, damn him. In the beginning, I had lusted after his hot body, yeah. Who wouldn’t? But somewhere along the line, I had grown to like him as something else.

  I sighed. “There’s no crime in being bi, Jordan. You’ve known there was something between us for a while now. If you had devoted as much energy towards it as you did fighting it, we’d be in bed right now.”

  “This weird chemistry thing? Yes. Yes, I did!” he exploded. “But what am I supposed to do with that? I’ve never—”

  “It’s not weird chemistry,” I said hotly. “I am not weird, and neither is being attracted to men.”

  “Could you stop twisting my words for like two seconds? I mean, how would I know?” We sat there for a moment, silent, before he probed further. “How did you know?”

  I sighed. “I just knew. I knew that, even though I could appreciate the beauty of both male and female, there was something extra there for the male. It wasn’t just an appreciation of beauty; it was like my sexuality came alive. Being with a man awakened my senses, made me feel differently. I never questioned it. It just was. I was. All hard, flat lines and musculature, long legs and broad shoulders….” I trailed off as my eyes traveled up Jordan�
��s body. “Flat, toned stomach and thick, muscled thighs. Like a work of art come to life,” I finished weakly, looking away.

  I felt very animalistic all of a sudden, heated from the inside out. I could smell his arousal and mine, commingling in the air, and I was suddenly exhausted, fighting the most intense attraction of my life. If he wasn’t going to be gay, then the least he could do was go away.

  “Jordan, why are you still here?”

  “Maybe you could help me. Help me know if this is real or not. You know.” His gaze slid from mine. “We could try some things.”

  I smiled even though I was feeling far from perky. “Ah. And there’s the rub.”

  “Yeah, maybe some of that too.” He gave a half smile.

  “Cute. That’s real cute, J. So you want me to be your dirty little sample, then. Something to test the waters.”

  “That’s nice, Mackenzie,” he said, his tone sharp. “You know it’s not like that.”

  “What’s it like, then?”

  “You act as if I’m supposed to just know exactly what to do. It’s like I woke up one day and everything I knew was different. I’m different.”

  I did know what that was like. At least I hadn’t had to change everything I knew about my own sexuality—I’d had no sexual identity to speak of. And one day, I suddenly knew why. It wasn’t a flash-bang grenade or fireworks on the beach, just an organic, quiet knowledge of who I was and what I was. I didn’t have anyone saying it was wrong or I was evil. I’d revealed the information to those closest to me and begun living my life as I knew I was born to.

  Oblivious to my internal struggle, Jordan continued. “I’d like to know if this is real. If I’m really… something other than what I thought. Something tangible to hold on to before I turn my entire life upside down.”

  My undersexed brain could not comprehend why this was a bad idea. Jordan had made it clear that he wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship with me. The only way this would happen was right here. Right now. My hand went to his belt buckle, and I don’t know why.

  “Like a hand job.”

  He went red as fire. “If that’s what you wanted to do.”

  It is. I continued on, casually, as if I hadn’t been dreaming about tasting him since I’d first met him. “So what, you just plan on asking all your gay friends if they’ll introduce you to your own sexuality?”

  “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to ask this of them,” he said honestly, and I wanted to punch him in the stomach. If he continued to make this about more than sex, I would kill him. Well, first I’d fuck him, and then I’d kill him.

  I flicked the belt through the loop and let the heavy buckle fall to the side. He wouldn’t be here long enough to take it off. “Let’s get a few things straight, Channing.”

  I don’t think he was even breathing as I slid his zipper down the track slowly, maintaining eye contact. “There are a few rules you need to acknowledge.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. First, I’m no experiment. I’m doing this because I’ve wanted to do this since I first laid eyes on you.”

  His eyes flickered over my face, but I paid no attention to his soft “Okay.” My fingers traced his erection, tenting blue silk boxers, and he let out a hiss.

  “This is about one thing. Getting you off. Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Second, this isn’t about friendship. I don’t do this for my friends.” I grinned a little. “Despite what Asher says. This is about getting you off.”

  He opened his mouth in what I can only imagine was a protest, until I rubbed his erection through his boxers. He subsided with a weak “Sounds real good right about now.”

  “Lastly, this isn’t about trust. We are not going to hold hands and sing Kumbaya. This is about what again?”

  “Getting me off,” he groaned as my hand went up and down, teasing his rigid cock through the soft fabric.

  “My pleasure,” I said.

  I pulled his shirt free of his pants and pushed the fabric up far enough to ghost my mouth across his well-toned stomach. I was aware that this went beyond the scope of what we’d agreed upon. This went beyond proving a point.

  You can still leave him wound up, I consoled myself. Get him just far enough. Then walk away.

  “I love the way you respond to me,” I murmured, running my hands over the silken skin of his stomach and up to his flat nipples. He hissed as I circled one with the tip of my finger and then the tip of my tongue. “But how far, exactly, do you want this to go? Hand job? Blow job? A finger in your ass? More than that?”

  His face was absolutely scarlet, but he pulled my face up to his and gave me a thorough kiss that made my smart mouth a little less smart. “Whatever feels good,” he responded. His hand made the journey from my face to my neck, where he held me still enough to look into my eyes. “And right now, you feel fucking amazing.”

  He smelled good. He felt good. Hell, I felt good, and he hadn’t done anything to me yet. I frowned and pulled back. I was in control. And it was about time he realized it.

  I dropped back down in my chair and leaned back, easing my erection but not unzipping my pants. If I took my pants off, I wouldn’t be able to think at all.

  “Show me what you got,” I said lazily, enjoying the fresh bloom of color in his cheeks. I wasn’t going to make this easy. He wasn’t going to pretend this just happened so fast. He wasn’t going to close his eyes and pretend it was someone else, either.

  To his credit, he didn’t drop eye contact with me as he pushed his jeans farther down his thighs. I stared at the outline of his thick cock through his boxers and hoped I was as strong as I thought I was. Dropping to your knees is a poor way to show someone you’re in control. But arousal seemed to be sucking the air clear out of the room. I felt hazy and overheated as I wormed a finger in between my shirt collar and my neck, pulling the shirt from the heat of my skin.

  “Keep going,” I snapped.

  His eyes narrowed at my tone, but that didn’t stop him from pulling down his briefs. His cock sprang free from his neatly trimmed thatch of dark fuzz, thick and long, eight inches of sculpted perfection. Smooth, silky-looking balls hung low behind, dusted with fine hair. Move over, David, I silently told Michelangelo.

  “You manscape?” I asked dubiously. Another straight guy myth right out the door.

  “Sometimes. It’s cleaner,” he said defensively. “Anything wrong with being clean?”

  My hands drifted over his balls, those perfectly round spheres, my fingers teasing, probing. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

  He jerked a little and then let out a shaky breath as I continued my exploration.

  “Please don’t stop,” he managed, knuckles turning white as he gripped the desk.

  He gave me far too much credit. I didn’t think I could.

  “Touch yourself,” I managed.

  “I thought that’s what you were here for,” he said smartly.

  I thumped a finger against his balls, and he yelped a bit. I continued rubbing them in the palm of my hand with a smirk at his glare. “In due time. Show me how much you want it first.”

  Seriously, would he go up in flames with all that blushing? It couldn’t be healthy. Combined with the flush of his arousal, I don’t think he had any more blood left for important bodily functions. He was far too aroused to deny me anything. If I’d asked him to lift his legs and finger his own asshole, I thought he just might. Just the thought sent a frisson of lust through my body, and I had to quickly think of something else, anything else. Baseball. Hockey. No, not the man-on-man action! I scolded my panicked brain. Scores and stats.

  His hand drifted down to his cock, and I was lost. He worked his hand up and down his length with a sure grip. He slid a finger through the leaking slit, maintaining eye contact, and a groan slipped past my lips. He had picked up quite a rhythm by this time, and suddenly I looked past the beautiful sight unfolding in front of me and recognized the signs. His eyes had drifted shut,
the tendons in his neck stood out stark underneath satin skin, and his balls were tight as a drum. He was closer than I’d realized. I didn’t know what the result of our little experiment would be, but there was no way he was coming anywhere but my mouth.

  “Put your hands on the desk,” I said, my voice thick and husky with arousal.

  He pumped his cock through his tight fist twice more before groaning and letting his hands drift to the desk. He flopped back flat on the desk, his erection an impressive monument to my powers of seduction. “Mac, I asked you to help me, not give me a coronary.”

  I pulled my chair directly in front of his jerking cock. “No reason you can’t have both,” I said, smartass to the end, and engulfed him fully in my mouth.

  “Jesus!” He popped back up like a jack-in-the-box.

  I bobbed up and down on his hard cock like he was candy because, well, he was. Every time I pulled back, his hips jerked upward to reclaim every inch of space in my mouth.

  “Damn it,” he swore, his breathing fast and heavy. “You’re… really fucking talented, you know that?”

  “I do,” I confirmed, pulling back just enough so the tip remained in my mouth. I tongued the spongy head gently before digging in the salty slit with my tongue. He nearly came off the desk, and I braced my forearms on his thighs, continuing my journey, seeking more of the salty fluid. At this point, he was leaking so much I could hardly keep up.

  “God, I’ve never felt anything like this,” he said fervently.

  I was too busy to respond, of course, but my licking turned smug. Of course he hadn’t. Not only did I love cock, but turns out I really loved his cock. And I had one thing on Rachel when it came to sucking cock. I had one. And I knew what I liked.

  I took my time exploring his shaft, running my teeth along his satiny length and then sucking him down to the root. I’d never been so glad my gag reflex was weak.

  When I pulled back, he let out a bereft sound, and I met his eyes. He was watching me, eyes half-closed, stormy blue orbs demanding that I finish what I’d started. My nostrils flared, filled with the scent of his arousal and mine. His cock towered in front of my face, precum making the purplish head shiny and slick. It was time to mock him, time to throw his own desire in his face.