Dreamspinner Press Year Eight Greatest Hits

by Brandon Witt

  “Sit wherever you like,” a young man called out as he walked by with a tray of drinks.

  Alex led them to a booth in the corner and slid in. From their seats they could view the entire main area of the restaurant, which was occupied by one other couple. Alex picked up the menu that was stuck in the holder in the center of the table and handed it to Ridley and then sat back as he took in the restaurant.

  “Interesting-looking place, huh?” Ridley asked as he scanned the menu.

  “I just hope the chef is better than their decorator. Did I mention I was starving?”

  “Maybe once or a hundred times,” Ridley muttered with a shake of his head.

  “Just wanted to make sure you knew.” Alex smirked.

  “Hi, I’m Crosby. Welcome to Bayou Grill. Can I start you with something to drink?” the waiter asked with a broad smile.

  He was tall and thin, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with the restaurant logo on it. Dark hair and eyes as well as his deep tan gave him an exotic look. Crosby was a very attractive man and looked to be about the same age as he and Alex.

  “I’ll have sweet tea, but I’m also ready to order. I’ll have the all-you-can-eat crawfish and a bowl of gumbo, please,” Alex ticked off. “And there’s an extra tip if you bring it quick.”

  “Yes, sir, and for you?” Crosby asked, looking to Ridley.

  “Crap, I haven’t even looked yet,” Ridley muttered as he scanned the menu. “Umm, I’ll have….”

  He wasn’t really sure since everything sounded so good. He loved Cajun food, the spicier the better. His mom’s sister had lived in New Orleans when she was younger, learning to cook all the authentic dishes of the region. She often made the most amazing spicy dishes when they’d visit her.

  Alex cleared his throat and thrummed his fingers against the tabletop.

  “Oh sorry,” he muttered in apology. “I’ll have the chicken andouille gumbo and the shrimp etouffee,” he said and returned the menu to its holder.

  “Both excellent choices,” Crosby praised. “And to drink?”

  “Sweet tea is fine.”

  “Very well. I’ll get these in right away and bring your drinks.”

  “Guess I’m not the only one starving,” Alex murmured and tipped his cap back on his head, the movement exposing a small wire near Alex’s ear.

  That solved the mystery as to how Alex could have known what he and Chloe had been discussing. Ridley wasn’t upset. He wouldn’t doubt if they were constantly under surveillance of some sort—though hopefully not while in the bedroom since that might be a little uncomfortable and awkward. With the way Alex had tried to act like he was just all that badass, all-knowing, however, he deserved a little payback. Ridley would have to give it some thought.

  Crosby dropped their drinks off as well as set a large plate of steaming crawfish in front of a salivating Alex. “Oh God,” Alex groaned. “These look delish. Help yourself,” he offered to Ridley as he grabbed one and pulled the head off.

  “Nah, I’m good,” Ridley declined.

  “You don’t know what you’re missing,” Alex countered and sucked on the end of the head before tossing it aside and cracking open the shell. “Oh well, all the more for me.”

  “That’s nasty,” Ridley muttered and wrinkled his nose.

  “What’s nasty?” Alex asked as he chewed, humming a little, and popped another head off a crawfish. Once again he stuck the head into his mouth and sucked it.

  “That right there,” Ridley pointed out. “Sucking the head.”

  “I thought you got off on it when I sucked a little head.” Alex smirked and made a grand gesture of sucking the crawfish head, adding in slurping noises and low moans.

  “The heads I suck don’t end in me having a mouthful of fish brains,” he said in disgust and took a big gulp of his tea. “Now have some manners, man.” He tossed his napkin at Alex. “And clean yourself up. Should I see if Crosby can bring you a bib?”

  “Might be a good idea.” Alex popped another hunk of meat in his mouth, still moaning in delight.

  Ridley did his best to ignore Alex and his less-than-stellar eating habits, knowing if he kept commenting it would only egg the bastard on. Alex wasn’t making it easy. The little porn noises he was making caused images of the man on his knees sucking on a different kind of treat to pop into Ridley’s head. His dick twitched in response. Yet another thing he was so going to pay Alex back for.

  Ridley was achingly hard and gritting his teeth by the time Crosby brought the rest of their food. The smug look on Alex’s face was evidence he knew exactly what he was doing to Ridley.

  “I’ll be right back,” Ridley grumbled and slipped out of the booth.

  “Where ya going? Your food’s gonna get cold.”

  Ridley didn’t comment, discreetly trying to adjust his overly tight jeans as he made his way to the bathroom. He should have known Alex would pull something like this and worn a pair of his new, looser-fitting jeans out of the shop. Fucker got off on seeing him squirm.

  ALEX HELD his laughter in by biting down on his lip as Ridley walked stiffly to the bathroom. Damn sexy fucker was so much fun to tease. It didn’t take much to get him riled up, which was awesome for their sex life. Ridley got hard when the wind blew. But he also had a quick wit, which meant there was a lot of laughter as well.

  Fun didn’t mean Alex had lowered his guard, but he hadn’t seen anything that had caused alarm bells to go off and he let himself relax a little as he continued to eat. Alex picked up his tea to take a sip, his arm stopping midmotion when he heard a low moan.

  He glanced around himself but was unable to find the source of the noise. The other couple was chattering happily across the room, and Crosby was nowhere in sight. Shrugging it off, Alex took a large gulp of his tea.

  “God, so hard.”

  Alex jerked his head from right to left. He was sure he’d heard someone, but with their table against the back wall there was no one behind him. Perhaps the walls were paper thin, he mused.

  “Mmm, feels so good.” The disembodied voice was followed by a rhythmic slap that sounded suspiciously like someone jerking off.

  “What the hell?” Alex muttered and checked under the table. Of course no one was there but he was running out of places to look. It made no sense.

  “Oh yeah, Alex, suck my cock.”

  Alex’s brows raised and he tilted his head, straining to listen as he realized it was Ridley’s voice he was hearing. He reached up and untucked the wire earphone from his cap and pushed it into his ear.

  “Uh…. Ah…. Love it when you fuck my ass with your finger. Oh yeah, shove it deeper.”

  Alex’s cock instantly hardened at the naughty images Ridley was painting and the deep seductive tone of his voice. Alex pressed his palm against the bulge in his jeans and shifted in the booth.

  “Oh yeah, baby. Shove another one in me. Harder. Faster.” The rhythm of the slaps of palm to dick sped up.

  Alex gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. He was so going to spank that naughty ass as soon as Ridley got back to the table.

  “I’m going to come so hard. Fill that sexy mouth of yours so full. Mmm. Oh yeah, Alex…. Oh yeah…. Use those teeth.”

  “Is there anything wrong with your dinner?”

  Alex’s eyes flew open to find Crosby standing across the table from him with a concerned expression.

  “Play with my balls. Squeeze ’em hard.”

  “I’m….” Slap Slap Slap. Alex squeaked and he cleared his throat. “Everything is fine, thank you,” Alex said with a tight smile.

  “Feel how hard you make me? Do you like it? Like the way my cock is pulsing?”

  Slap Slap Slap.

  Alex groaned.

  “Are you sure?” Crosby inquired further. “You don’t look so good, sir.”

  Spanking was too light a punishment for the naughty man. He was going to beat that ass. Slap Slap Slap. “Fuck me harder with those fat fingers” Ugh. Right after he fucked it, that
was, then he’d beat it or bite it or…. Alex squeezed his eyes shut as his dick began to throb painfully with each beat of his racing heart.

  “Sir?”

  “I’m fine,” Alex gritted out, forcing his eyes open.

  “Oh God, I’m gonna blow. You ready for my load?”

  “Could I get another glass of tea, please?”

  “Yes, sir. Right away.”

  “Oh…. Oh….” The steady slapping sound lost its rhythm, becoming erratic as Ridley’s panting breaths came through the earphone.

  Alex groaned again, his cock bent at an awkward position within the confines of the tight denim fabric of his jeans. He shifted in his seat, trying unsuccessfully to relieve the pressure, as his ears were filled with the sounds of Ridley moaning and cursing and babbling incoherent nonsense. Sweat dampened Alex’s brow and trickled down his temples.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Oh fuck, here it comes.”

  Crosby set a fresh glass of tea on the table, his eyes wide as he stared at Alex. “Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

  “I’m coming.” Slap Slap Slap. “Take it all baby. Swallow that big load. Ah!”

  Alex leaned forward and banged his head on the table, waving a dismissive hand at Crosby. “No need for a doctor,” he assured the waiter and pounded his hand down on the table to keep from coming in his jeans. “Hot, just really fucking hot. Bread, please,” he groaned.

  Crosby chuckled and thankfully scurried off.

  Alex had barely gotten himself under control when he spotted Ridley coming out of the bathroom with a big satisfied grin on his face. The bastard literally sauntered to the table and slid into the booth.

  “What the hell was all that about?”

  Ridley picked up his fork, stabbed it into a shrimp, and popped it in his mouth. “I think I drank too much coffee this morning. Man, was I full. I just kept going and going,” Ridley said as he chewed. “Wow, this is really spicy, isn’t it? No wonder you’re sweating.” He grabbed his tea and took a sip, but it wasn’t enough to hide his grin.

  “You do realize this means war,” Alex hissed.

  “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re going on about. Man, you’re literally shaking from the heat. Mind if I try some?” Ridley asked, pointing at Alex’s gumbo with his fork.

  Alex pulled the bowl out of his reach and glared at the irritating little shit. Ridley shrugged and stabbed another shrimp from his own plate.

  Crosby showed up with a basket of assorted breads and a glass of milk and set them down in front of Alex. “Sometimes a little milk helps with the heat.”

  Ridley covered his mouth with his hand, his cheeks turning red, and he began to shake.

  “Thank you, that’ll be all,” Alex informed the waiter.

  Crosby looked at Ridley with a questioning look but didn’t comment. The minute he walked away, Ridley burst out laughing. “I usually use the milking technique when I’m hot too,” he gritted out around snorts of laughter.

  “Just you wait,” Alex growled.

  He grabbed a bread stick and munched on it while Ridley continued to laugh boisterously. Ridley ignored the glares Alex was shooting at him, but eventually the giggles slowed and he wiped away the tears that had rolled down his face and took a big gulp of his tea.

  Ridley tapped a finger against his chin and took on a thoughtful expression. “If I didn’t know any better, I would swear you had me bugged.” He cocked his head and studied Alex for a moment and then waved a hand. “Oh, silly me, there goes my paranoia again.”

  Alex didn’t comment, instead continuing to chomp on his bread. He knew when he’d been outplayed and it was best to keep his mouth shut, at least for now. He may have lost this battle, but he most certainly hadn’t lost the war.

  AN UNFAMILIAR rusted Chevy truck sat in the drive. Alex, instantly on high alert, reached for his gun when he spotted an older man sitting on the front porch of their home.

  “Who is that?” Ridley asked in alarm.

  “I don’t know.” Alex steered the truck slowly down the driveway with his knee as he pulled his service revolver from its holster, checked the clip, and shoved it home. “Get your head down,” he ordered Ridley.

  Alex leaned over slightly toward the door. The sun was shining directly onto the front windshield, which made it difficult for him to see, but that would make it impossible for the stranger to see within the truck. He pulled to a stop and studied the man on the porch without cutting the engine.

  The stranger was dressed in a denim snap shirt and jeans and had a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. His white hair curling out from beneath the cap matched the color of his short, trimmed beard. As Alex continued to watch him, the man seemed completely relaxed as he spit a dark stream of chew that landed on the sand next to the walkway.

  Alex pulled his extra revolver from the console and handed it to Ridley. “Keep your head down and stay in the truck,” he demanded. He pushed open the door but didn’t step out, gun at the ready. “Can I help you?” he hollered.

  “I don’t rightly think so, since I’m here to help you,” the stranger responded and spit again.

  “Excuse me?” Alex asked in confusion. “You’re here to help me?”

  “That’s what I just said, ain’t it?” The older man looked down at his watch and tapped it. “Mick said you’d probably be late. Time’s a-wastin’, boy.”

  “Mick sent you?” Alex asked suspiciously. “He didn’t tell me you were coming.”

  “He said you’d say that too. Now put that damn gun away and get your ass out here if you want to learn about fishin’ and baitin’.”

  Typical Ramirez. Bastard probably giggled his fool head off when he set this little lesson up. Alex hated not knowing what the hell was going on, a trait Mick knew. He needed to get himself one of those little flip notebooks Mick always had to keep notes. Alex’s would be full of all the shit he owed his partner for.

  “Keep the gun concealed under your packages when you get out and keep your eyes and ears open. Got it?” Alex slid his gaze toward Ridley long enough to see him nod his understanding, then holstered his gun and stepped out of the truck.

  “You have me at a disadvantage. Apparently you know me, but I haven’t a clue as to who you are.”

  The man pushed up from the porch and met him halfway, shaking the hand Alex held out. “Ron Porter. Friends call me Cap.” He took a step back, wiping his hand on his jeans, and spit off to the side. “I’ve known Mick since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. He’s told me all about you. You can call me Ron,” he drawled, but his green eyes had a mischievous twinkle in them.

  “Don’t believe everything he tells you. Mick’s been hit on the head one too many times. This is Ridley,” Alex told him, stabbing a thumb over his shoulder.

  Ron cocked his head, brows furrowed as he watched Ridley join them. “Funny, you two don’t look nothing like brothers,” he pointed out.

  “That’s ’cause he was adopted,” Ridley said. “They took away his mama’s parental rights after she dropped him on his head one too many times. It’s why he and Mick get along so well.”

  Alex elbowed Ridley in the ribs, causing him to yelp.

  “I like you. You can call me Cap,” Ron said to Ridley. “Now put that gun away before you shoot yourself and follow me. I don’t have a lot of time here.”

  Alex and Ridley shared stunned glances and did as they were told. From the back of his truck, Ron pulled out a wire box with a rope and a bright yellow buoy with a large dot tied to it and set it on the ground. Ron then pulled a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket and handed it to Alex. “That there is a map of where my crab traps are. I’ve marked the ones you’ll be tending to.”

  Alex unfolded the map: small red Xs marked numerous spots on the lake. “Blue crabs? I thought we were gonna be commercial fishing.”

  Ron stared at Alex unblinking for a moment and then shook his head. “Trap sits on the bottom of the lake just like that. This here buoy is my distinctive
color. You’ll pull the boat up alongside one, hook it, and pull the trap to the surface.”

  He flipped the trap over and released a hook connected to a thick rubber band. “Bait fish goes in here. Make sure it’s good and full, then rehook it.” Ron flipped the trap back over. “Make sure you don’t get your rope tangled up and then drop it in just like this.” He let go of the trap—it landed with the bait door against the gravel. “Then move on to the next one. As long as the weather holds you should be able to pull two hundred a day.”

  “How do you get the crabs out?” Ridley asked, studying the trap.

  “Crabs crawl in through those little openings on the sides. Once they get in they can’t get back out. You unhook that there top hook, pull it open a bit, turn it over, and shake ’em out into a crate.”

  “Looks easy enough,” Alex commented.

  “Let me know if he still feels that way after he’s pulled all two hundred,” Ron told Ridley with a smirk and threw the trap back into his truck. “I left plenty of crates and burlap sacks down on the dock. Make sure you keep the sacks wet and lay them over the crabs during the day. It keeps them from drying out and crawling out of the crate.”

  “Thanks, we really appreciate you taking the time to show us how these work. I’m going to go drop these bags off in the house. Can I get you something to drink?” Ridley offered.

  “Well, Missus is expecting me home. She’s got some projects for me to tend to,” Ron drawled and wiped a hand across his brow. “But a man’s gotta stay well hydrated in this heat. I’ll take a beer if ya got one.”

  “One ice-cold beer coming up.” Ridley met Alex’s gaze. “How about you, can I get you something? It won’t take me no time at all to whip up one of my famous milkshakes you like so much.”

  You just keep right on adding on those swats. “I think I’ll save that for later,” Alex said with a wink. “Beer is fine.”

  As soon as Ridley was out of earshot, Alex turned to Ron. “So what exactly has Mick told you about me?”