by Sean Michael
“Yeah?” Did Leo want the same things he did? “I could make daily deposits under the right circumstances.”
Leo’s smile grew. “I do believe we could discuss that.”
Leo’s smile made warmth bloom in David’s belly. “Good.”
“Perhaps you could teach me something.” Leo’s teeth latched onto his bottom lip, tugged it. “Perhaps I could teach you as well.”
He groaned, hips jerking, their cocks bumping and rubbing. “Yes.”
“Love.” Leo looked into his eyes, direct.
He held that gaze and nodded, that warmth inside overtaking him. “Yes,” he said again.
“Okay, then.” Leo drew him into a slow, lazy kiss. His tongue pushed into Leo’s mouth, sweeping through it as they shared breath.
Leo spread, knees bent, cradling him. He cupped Leo’s cheeks, turning his head slightly to deepen the kiss. Leo opened to him, let him in and in and in. He could do this forever. Maybe longer. With Leo in his arms, it didn’t feel like an impossible dream.
“Your place or mine?” The words, cheesy as they were, popped out of his mouth as their lips parted for a moment.
“I don’t have a sub lined up to work.”
“You’ll come out west for me?” He thought he might come just from that.
“You have a place for me?”
“I do, moro. It’s right beside me.”
Leo’s cheeks pinked, fingers twining with his. A part of him was still amazed that he could affect this stunning man as much as Leo affected him.
“Then I suppose I should see the Pacific.”
“Yeah, I suppose you should.” He licked Leo’s lips.
“We’ll work out our details later.” Leo sucked his bottom lip in, nibbled on it.
“Mmm. Okay.” He had more important things to concentrate on just now. Besides, Leo had said yes. And, in the end, that was all that mattered.
His fantasy was complete.
Epilogue
“Excellent. Yes. If the client wants to go to LA, absolutely.” James clicked the headset off, nodding happily that three more files could be closed. For once, there was no drama, no complaints, simply three happy clients. Maybe he wouldn’t have to kill Damien after all.
As if thinking of him had conjured the man up, there Damien was with that cocksure smile of his, Guard right behind him.
“How did you two get in here?”
“I have a key, remember?” Guard held up his emergency key. “You didn’t answer when we knocked. We were worried.”
“I was working. I’m fine.” Now go away.
“Everyone get off okay?” Guard’s grin and twinkling eyes told him the man had very much meant that double entendre.
“Dipshit.” James actually chuckled. “Yes. Three solid fantasies. We earned our pennies.”
“We charge a hell of a lot more than pennies.” Damien was such an asshole.
“Fuck off. I could cut you off.” He rolled back from his desk. He needed a drink. A celebratory drink.
“Then who would go find you the perfect jobs? Perfect hires, perfect fantasies.” Damien’s grin became even more shit-eating, if that were possible. “Did I or did I not score big?”
James looked over at Guard, hoping for help.
“How about we all just have a beer and toast to a job well done?” Guard gave him a hopeful smile.
“One beer.” One.
“Spoilsport.” Damien’s hand dropped down onto his shoulders, rubbing.
Oh. His head fell forward, just for a second. Damien took full advantage, rubbing harder.
“I need to get our beers.” He rolled forward.
Guard was right there, though, three longnecks in his hands and that hopeful smile still on his face.
“Just let me touch a second, huh, Wheels?” He hated that sad sound in Damien’s voice.
Guard crouched down in front of him. “He loves you. We both do.”
“You can’t. I won’t let you.”
“You already did.” Guard leaned in, lips pressing against his.
He was trapped between them, Damien’s hands and Guard’s lips. Guard’s tongue slipped along his lips, asking to be let in. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t love them again. He… God, Guard tasted good.
Guard’s tongue slipped in, teasing against his teeth, and Damien’s hands worked the muscles in his shoulders. They were not doing this. They weren’t. James’ hands curled around the arms of his chair.
Guard’s hands cupped his cheeks, tilting his head a little to the right, and behind him, Damien groaned. Dame’s thumbs found the tight muscles between his shoulders, pushing hard. Guard pushed in closer, chest pressing against his.
“I can’t.” He moaned the words against Guard’s lips.
“Why not?” Damien asked. “We did the other day.”
“I’m not loving you two.”
“Please?” Guard’s eyes begged him.
“Shh.” James reached out, finger across Guard’s lips.
Guard licked his finger, then drew it in between his lips, sucking gently. Oh. Oh, fuck. He shifted, ass sliding on the seat. Damien moaned, hands stuttering on his shoulders as Guard kept sucking, eyes holding his gaze. God, he ached, his cock hard and throbbing.
One of Guard’s hands dropped, palmed him through his shorts.
“Jesus, James. You smell so good.” Damien sounded like he’d swallowed a frog.
“Like magic.” Guard let go of his cock, only to start working on undoing his shorts.
“Yes.” Damien’s mouth was by his ear. “Love.”
Guard nodded, hand wrapping around his naked cock. “Love.”
“I can’t…” Oh, God.
“Shh. That’s just a knee-jerk reaction.” Guard started stroking him.
“We can. We can. Fuck, man. I want to ride you, want to feel you inside me.” Damien whispered the words, breath hot as deep summer.
“Oh, fuck. Yes. Please, James.” Guard begged so prettily.
“I can’t.”
Damien had gotten naked somehow and was in his lap, eyes burning. “Please. Please. I need you.”
Guard’s hand kept working his cock. “You’re hard as a rock, James. I’d say you can.”
Guard helped guide him in, Damien’s ass like a flame as they touched. The son of a bitch was slick. Damien took him in, head falling back on a cry, and James reached for him, hands around Dame’s waist.
“God. Look at the two of you.” Guard sounded like he was in pain.
“In me. James. Oh, fuck, baby. I missed you.”
He knew. He knew, and he hated it, but right now he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything. He needed.
“Fuck. Oh, God. James.” Damien was babbling, word after word, all full of need.
Guard was sharing kisses with them, him and Dame, then him again. James focused on slamming Damien into him, onto him, over and over, the chair rocking underneath them.
“Fuck. Fuck.” Guard and Dame were both down to one syllable words, grunts.
His cock ached, his body focused on nothing but his balls, on the heat around his cock. Guard slid his hands down, pinched his nipples through his shirt. His fingers clenched, and he pulled Dame down harder. Damien cried out, hands landing on his shoulders and digging in.
“Please. Please, baby. Let me come.” Damien sounded desperate, so needy.
He moaned, shook his head. “Not till I say.”
Guard’s low groan filled the air. “Hear that, Dame? You have to wait until James says you can come.”
“Yes. Yes. God. Baby.”
James closed his eyes, hiding from their boy, their lover. Guard’s kisses roamed over his face, his ears, his neck.
“Guard.” He couldn’t do this, couldn’t handle it, but, damn it, he couldn�
��t stop it, either.
“You going to let him come, babe? You going to let our boy come?”
“Our boy.” He almost sobbed, his fingers digging in to the world’s most perfect ass.
“Yes. Yes. Please, James, let me come.” Damien bounced on his cock, eyes pleading with him.
He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, then Guard’s hand slid up, cupped Damien’s balls and squeezed. “Come. Come for me, boy. Now.”
Damien screamed, spunk spraying between them. Guard’s cry sounded in his ear, as well, the scent of their cum filling his nose.
James’ balls emptied, Guard’s fingers rolling them, so hot. Then Damien kissed him, lips burning his, lingering on his mouth.
When their lips parted, Damien was crying, tears streaking the man’s face. “Forgive me.”
He shook his head. “I can’t do that now.”
One day the man would understand that he already had and now there was nothing left for him to forgive.
Pre-Game
Excerpt
Chapter One
Rook hurried along Young Street, checking his watch. He didn’t think he was going to be late for the class, but he was cutting it awfully close. Of course, he hadn’t realized that his meeting with the lawyer was going to take so long. On the other hand, if the dude—were you allowed to call lawyers ‘dude’?—hadn’t been so intent on talking him out of his purchase, it’d have taken half the time.
It was a good thing money was no object, thanks to Great-Aunt Anna leaving her fortune to the black sheep of the family—namely him—or he’d have had to insist that he not be charged for the time the lawyer spent on his own agenda rather than Rook’s. What did the lawyer care if he spent a hundred thousand or so on a store that sold sex toys? It wasn’t like Rook was asking the guy to come and buy, or even to ever show up. He liked the idea of owning a sex shop, and honestly, the money was a drop in the bucket.
All the paperwork was being drawn up and he’d be the proud owner of the place in less than two weeks. Too bad he didn’t have anybody to celebrate with. He’d have to bring some champagne in and celebrate with the staff once the sale went through. Yeah, that would work.
Arriving at the Art School, he went in and made his way to the Live Art class, walking in with seconds to spare. He gave Polly, the teacher, an apologetic smile and moved to the corner of the room to strip off. He usually showed up at least ten minutes ahead of the class, so he was already on the dais when the students came in, especially at the beginning of the semester, but it couldn’t be helped.
Naked, he ran his hands through his hair, and made his way to the raised seat. “How would you like me today?”
Polly tilted her head. “Why don’t you sit with your legs crossed, one hand supporting you as you lean back, the other on your knee.”
He assumed the position, shifting a little until he was comfortable enough to stay still for a prolonged period of time.
“Very good.” Polly smiled at him and turned her attention to her students. “Good afternoon, class, and welcome to Live Drawing. Our model for this class is Rook. He’ll be with us the entire class.”
She went on, but he tuned her out, checking out the students in his line of sight. They were all the same—earnest girls and guys trying desperately not to stare. All except for one.
This guy had long, long hair that was so dark it looked like a raven’s wing. He had a beard and was wearing camo that was totally vintage and completely oversized. That guy was looking. Admiring, even.
Rook couldn’t help but tilt his head the slightest bit, proudly showing off. Hell, this guy made him want to spread his legs and really show off, but he knew Polly would likely ban him until he’d groveled significantly. And the truth was, he enjoyed posing.
His move earned him a grin, slow and wicked—one that burned through him.
No hard-ons, he reminded himself. But damn, this guy made his balls ache.
He glanced away, his nostrils flaring as he thought about snow and ice and slush and stupid lawyers who thought he was a moron, in an effort to stay deflated. God, the lawyers thought did it. Boom. Flaccid.
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About the Author
Often referred to as “Space Cowboy” and “Gangsta of Love” while still striving for the moniker of “Maurice,” Sean Michael spends his days surfing, smutting, organising his immense gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs. While collecting vast amounts of vintage gay pulp novels and mood rings, Sean whiles away the hours between dropping the f-bomb and pursuing the kama sutra by channelling the long lost spirit of John Wayne and singing along with the soundtrack to “Chicago”.A long-time writer of complicated haiku, currently Sean is attempting to learn the advanced arts of plate spinning and soap carving sex toys.Barring any of that? He'll stick with writing his stories, thanks, and rubbing pretty bodies together to see if they spark.
Sean Michael loves to hear from readers. You can find contact information, website details and an author profile page at https://www.pride-publishing.com/
