When Alex Was Bad

by Davis, Jo

  Wild. Wanton.

  So fucking sexy.

  Jason thrust one last time, lips parted in an obvious cry of ecstasy. Pumping his cum deep into Liv, marking her. Branding all three of them. Alex’s hoarse shout pierced the silence of the room as his own orgasm slammed him, hard. The binoculars tumbled from his grasp and he worked his cock for all he was worth, riding the waves, semen splattering the window. As the shudders subsided, it occurred to him to wonder whether the cop parked on the street had seen any of this, and decided he didn’t care.

  God, had he ever come so hard he thought he might shake apart?

  Panting, he leaned against the edge of the window, transfixed as Jason withdrew from Liv. Very deliberately, the younger man dipped his fingers into her sex, brought them to his lips, and sucked away their combined juices—while lifting his head to stare in Alex’s direction.

  A challenge? Or a simple acknowledgment of their connection?

  Hardly mattered. Not with his cum streaking down the glass and his body trembling like he’d touched a live wire.

  He only knew he already craved much, much more. Didn’t want to be kept at a distance next time, unable to touch them or participate. And that had been his brilliant wife’s plan all along, hadn’t it?

  Well, it worked.

  Liv slid off Jason’s bed and gave the man a lingering kiss. Hand in hand, the pair disappeared from view. Alex stayed put like she’d told him to, but as the minutes crept past and she didn’t return, he began to suspect they weren’t quite done torturing him.

  Twenty minutes later, his sore muscles were starting to bitch a little. He couldn’t stand here much longer and decided to give her five more minutes before he parked his ass on the bed.

  Just then, Liv strolled in, dressed, hair damp, sporting the glow of a well-fucked woman. Her step, however, was hesitant, her expression revealing worry that she’d gone too far.

  Smiling, he met his wife halfway and pulled her close. “Baby, you sure know how to make it hurt so good.”

  There. Her blue eyes sparkled in satisfaction, concern vanished. “I try. Did you . . . enjoy?”

  He laughed. “I don’t think there’s a word strong enough for how thoroughly the two of you blew my mind. I doubt poor Alex Junior will ever function properly again.”

  Her giggle warmed his soul, and it struck him how much good this had done them both. Make that the three of them.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she looked up at him, face shining with love. “It’s working, isn’t it? Our deal, all of it.”

  “Yes, it is.” He kissed her nose. “And tonight was incredible, Liv. You and Jason . . . God, I can’t describe how turned on I was seeing you swallow his cock, watching him fuck you.”

  “Oh, Alex.” She hugged him tightly.

  “You were beautiful together. I can’t wait for more, and I mean that.”

  Christ, yes. This was damned near perfect.

  And it would be, the second the police caught the man who wanted him dead.

  Eight

  Jason wasn’t getting old yet, so the sex must have been making him stupid.

  He should’ve noticed before now. Alex bent over in his front flower bed. Damn, what a fine ass. The man radiated untapped sexuality from every pore of his skin, and Jason was willing to bet his inheritance Alex was a natural sensualist.

  In fact, he couldn’t wait to find out for himself.

  Peering out the dining room window, Jason figured the guy had been at it a while, what with the piles of weeds dotting the yard. Didn’t a rich dude like Alex hire a lawn service? Could be he was a practical man who enjoyed doing things himself. Like me.

  The idea pleased Jason, though he wasn’t sure why.

  Whatever. He had a great excuse to venture out and talk to Alex, not that he needed one. He just hadn’t been sure how to approach the man after the other night.

  Hey, you handsome bastard! Did you get off when I fucked your wife? Can I do you next? Nice day, huh?

  Alex hadn’t rung his doorbell either, but Jason guessed now was as good an opportunity as any to move things along.

  In the front hallway, he checked his appearance in the mirror with a sober stare. Snug black T-shirt emphasizing his flat stomach, worn jeans hanging off his hipbones just so. Looking hot as fuck had never been his problem.

  On the surface, anyway. On bad days he fantasized about taking a knife to his pretty mug and—

  “Suck it up, shithead,” he told himself. “Own your mistakes.”

  His cell phone vibrated on the hall table, belting out, “Boulevard of Broken Dreams.”

  Next step on the road to self-enlightenment: download a ringtone that didn’t make him want to dive for his unopened bottle of Prozac.

  Reaching for the phone, he sighed. Reginald was the only person from his other life who knew where he was, or gave a shit. “Yeah?”

  “Why the fuck haven’t I heard from you all week?”

  Well, giving a shit might be a bit optimistic.

  “Been busy, Reginald.” Banging Quinn’s wife like the sun ain’t gonna come up tomorrow. Gonna nail him next. Go me.

  “Don’t be flip with me, kid. I’ve had to pull everyone so far back on this thing, we’re watching from goddamned Mars.”

  “But you are watching. I’m on the bench.”

  Silence. Jason could practically see the big vein pounding in the big jerk’s temple.

  “Someone needs Quinn dead,” the man enunciated. “If not Palmer Hodge, then who? The wife?”

  “Wrong tree.” A person couldn’t fake the terror he’d seen on Olivia’s face when she learned about Alex being hurt. Nobody was that good. “With Alex dead, his caseload gets redistributed, and the Boardman trial is the most important of them.”

  “But he’s defending the asshole.”

  “Whom the D.A. is prosecuting as the head honcho, when we know it’s Hodge. Only Hodge doesn’t know we know.” And when he finds out how, I’m a dead man.

  “Hodge wants Boardman to go down, and Quinn is in the way. Which means . . . Hodge has people inside. Shit.”

  “Yep.”

  “Find out who the players are. And Jason?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Don’t let me down this time.”

  Click. “Fucker.” Aggravated, he tossed down his phone, knowing his boss wasn’t to blame.

  You won’t fail again, Jase. Believe that. On bad days, the pep talk usually worked. Today, having Alex as a distraction helped a ton. He strolled out his front door, taking in a lungful of crisp spring air. Getting warmer, summer on the way. Best to enjoy the last of these mild days before the heat fried them all like eggs in a skillet.

  Stepping off his porch, he heard birds chirping in the trees, a dog barking, a car cruising down the street. His gaze found Alex, the man busy stuffing the weeds into a black garbage bag, and he halted his trek across his own lawn to admire the view again, close-up.

  Jesus, Alex was one gorgeous sonofabitch. Feet bare, wearing cutoffs and an old St. Louis Cardinals T-shirt, dark sunglasses, blond hair shining in the sun, he looked good enough to eat. I’ve got the whipped cream; you be the cherry.

  Grinning, he started forward again, a cheerful greeting on his lips. The car approaching from down the street slowed as it drew near. “Alex! Need a hand? I—”

  Instinct made him break off and glance toward the car.

  The driver’s window began to lower and Jason saw the man inside looking toward Alex. Saw the arm extending.

  He ran, screaming, reaching for his gun that—fucking hell—was in the house.

  “Alex, get down! Get down!”

  Alex straightened and turned his head, eyes wide and questioning, lips parted. Held up a hand as if to ward off Jason’s flying tackle.

  Jason hit him like a linebacker, wrapping his arms around Alex’s torso, taking him right off his feet. They crashed through the bushes, Alex’s “Oomph!” grunting in his ear as they landed hard in the dirt, Jason on
top of him.

  Jason stared down into Alex’s green eyes, protecting him with his own body and panting with the surge of adrenaline, waiting for the bullets to rip through their scant cover. Rip into his flesh.

  Better him than Alex.

  Seconds ticked as they stared at one another, the whine of the retreating car giving way to the normal sounds of a spring day. Alex had stilled and was staring back at him, confusion and something much more combustible in his gaze.

  “Well,” Jason began, mouth hitching in a half smile. “No bullets. Must’ve scared him off, appearing the way I did. Some rescue, huh?”

  One eloquent, dark blond eyebrow lifted. “A truly amazing feat of heroics. Now I know who to call next time I need to be rescued from my frickin’ paper boy.”

  Jason blinked. “What?”

  A flush crept up his neck. He looked, though he didn’t want to. Sure enough, the daily newspaper lay on the lawn—right where the delivery guy had tossed it.

  “I’ll be goddamned,” he muttered. The body underneath him began to shake. Alex’s face split into a wide, breathtaking smile, the absurdity of the situation obviously getting to him. “Don’t you laugh at me, you shithead. I thought you were about to be peppered full of holes.”

  Which, of course, made Alex laugh harder. “L-local attorney killed by rogue newspaper boy! Story at t-ten.”

  “Shut up, nimrod. You shouldn’t be waltzing around out here with a target on your fucking chest.”

  Alex sobered some, laughter fading, the reality of what could’ve happened sinking in. “I know, but I was about to lose my mind haunting the house, and with Liv at the restaurant today . . .” He paused, voice going quiet. “Anyway, thanks, man.”

  Jason made no move to roll off him just yet. Awareness crackled between them, sharp and electric. Sizzled the length of their bodies from chest to groin, every inch of where they were pressed together. Jason shifted, settled himself more firmly between Al ex’s spread thighs, testing the waters. To his satisfaction, if not surprise, Alex was rock-hard just like himself. And blazing hot.

  “Jason,” he whispered. Those striking eyes were wide again, for a totally different reason.

  “Yeah.” Reaching up, he plucked a few leaves out of Alex’s hair, then let his fingers trace the other man’s strong jaw, his full lips.

  “You can get off me now.”

  “I could.” Dipping his head, he brought his mouth to hover over Alex’s. So close, making him want. And Alex did want this. The proof was in the muscled body vibrating underneath him, the dilation of his pupils, the quickening of his heartbeat.

  “Jase, get off me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Irma Finklestein is probably plastered to her front window with her binoculars, that’s why.”

  The weird tension broke and Jason laughed, pushing off Alex and getting to his feet. “Good reason,” he said, offering his hand. Grinning, Alex took it. Jason helped him up, thinking maybe he should retreat. Give the man time to process.

  “Want to come in for a beer?”

  Or maybe not. “Sure, sounds great.”

  Yeah, a nice, manly beer to equalize the testosterone level in the atmosphere.

  Subduing his smile, Jason trailed Alex into the house. In the kitchen, his friend fished a couple of Coronas from the fridge, twisted the top off and handed him one.

  “Thanks.” They took a long draw of their beers, studying each other and pretending not to. Well, that was bullshit. “How long have you known you were attracted to men?”

  “Jesus, you don’t pull any punches.” Alex set his bottle on the counter and raked a hand through his hair. “Always.”

  Jason waited, letting Alex relax into the conversation, tell things his way. He seemed a little hesitant at first, warming to the subject as he went.

  “With my folks, there was never a big meltdown or a lot of drama over my sexual curiosity. When I was in high school, my mom walked into my room, caught me and a buddy kissing when we were supposed to be studying, excused herself and walked right out again. I mean, sure, they weren’t happy, but I was their son and they loved me. Dad sat me down later and advised me to think on it hard, said if I was just as attracted to women, why bring a load of difficulty on myself? Made sense to me.”

  “So you suppressed your desires and lived the status quo.”

  “I didn’t see it that way. I dated plenty, had a great time. Then I met Liv during my last year of law school, and she knocked my socks off.” He gave a wistful smile. “She became my best friend, and the sex was incredible. What more did I need?”

  “At the time.”

  “Yes.”

  “And now?”

  Alex wandered into the living room, quiet. Thoughtful. Jason followed, keeping his distance. This was Alex’s show and he wouldn’t make the first move. No, it was important for his friend to take that step alone.

  “What if . . .” Alex shored up his nerve and looked Jason in the eye. “What if you were given permission to have your fill of any sexual indulgence you wanted? To give in to your passion and take whatever you desired, with whomever, however and whenever you desired it? No taboos, free of guilt or consequences—and I don’t mean the sort of punishments Liv makes up, but the messy, life-altering kind. Would you do it?”

  God, those eyes. They ensnared him completely and he had no will to get away, no inclination to run, though it would be best. A fist closed around his throat, making speech difficult. “I have indulged, Alex. I’ve done things you can’t imagine, have had those things done to me, and reveled in them all. But there’s always a consequence,” he whispered. “Always. No one escapes, and you’re a fool if you don’t understand that.”

  No way in hell did he want to drive Alex away, but he owed the man at least part of the truth about himself. Alex had to go into this with his eyes open, or any relationship between them would fail miserably.

  “What price have you paid?”

  “You really don’t want to know.” Even though, to be fair, Alex should. “Just run, fast and far.”

  God, please don’t run.

  Alex took a step closer. And another. “What if I don’t want to escape, Jase?”

  His heart hammered, a wild beast in his chest. “You should.”

  “I don’t.” He closed the remaining couple of feet, his gaze feral. Hot. “If I’m going to pay, I’d better make sure my sins are worth the price.”

  Cupping the back of Jason’s head, Alex brought his mouth down hard. This was no gentle kiss, but one of possession. Hungry, brutal. His tongue speared the seam of Jason’s lips, explored and stroked. Jason melted into him with a groan, seeking his heat, desperate to crawl inside the man and never come out.

  “Tell me,” Jason gasped between kisses. “Tell me what you want.”

  “You. On your knees.”

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  “I’m not asking.”

  Oh, God, yes! The man was a dominant. A beautiful, natural dom who’d never seized the reins before—at least not with a man.

  Lucky, lucky Jason.

  Sinking to his knees, he reached for Alex’s cutoffs. Flicked open the button and lowered the zipper. The shorts were loose and slid down easily, the man’s long, thick erection springing free and leaking from the flared tip. Alex kicked away the shorts and yanked the Cardinals T-shirt over his head, tossing it. Jason let his eyes roam up that magnificent body. Naked, tanned and muscled, ready to take what it wanted from him. Jason’s own cock ached for relief, but would have to wait.

  He’d never been as grateful for his training as he was now. “Suck me,” Alex ordered, vibrating with excitement, burying a hand in Jason’s hair. “Do it now.”

  “Damn.” Hell, yes. He’d make the man’s eyeballs cross or die in the attempt. “This beats the shit out of watching you from a distance, wanting you inside me.”

  Leaning in, he nuzzled Alex’s balls, encouraged by the tightening of his sac, the soft intake of breath.
He loved the silky skin on his lips, the brush of fine hair on his cheeks, the musky male scent. He rolled one in his mouth, suckling, the salty taste delighting his tongue. So different from a woman, yet no less wonderful.

  “Fuck, yes,” Alex rasped.

  And Jason fed on the power a submissive held over his master.

  Jason laved Alex’s cock from base to head, manipulating those taut balls with his fingers. Alex spread his legs wider in invitation, moaning, already incoherent. Just like Jason wanted.

  He sucked the flushed head oh so gently, driving the other man out of his mind. Dipping his tongue into the little slit, tasting the pre-cum that evidenced pleasure Jason hoped he’d be the only man to ever give.

  No, don’t set yourself up for another fall. Just fly.

  And crash later.

  He drew the delicious cock deeper, keeping the pressure tight, drawing it down, down into his throat until his airway was blocked. To the place of true nirvana, sacrificing himself to serve another.

  This was what made a sub tick. Not so much the physical act, but the joy to be found in subservience. And this was Jason’s strength as well as his one unfulfilled desire—until now.

  To give his total trust, and have it returned. To achieve a bond with his partner beyond sex. No posturing, no lies.

  Closing his eyes, he let himself go. Allowed himself to feel.

  Alex’s fingers clutching his hair.

  Alex’s cock slamming down his throat.

  Strong thighs spread, hips pistoning.

  The man’s body claiming his. Owning him.

  Can’t breathe.

  And it was good. So goddamned good.

  Why couldn’t Alex have been his first? Why?

  No more thinking. His lungs screamed and his vision grayed as his own cock began to pulse. He poured out his release, giving Alex everything he had, everything he was.

  Alex cried out, plummeted over the edge after him, seed pulsing, thick and hot.

  Jason wished he could express his immense happiness, but could only swallow, throat working.