by AJ Hardcourt
Jude wasn’t a kid anymore…and Rob wasn’t misreading the signals. Rob could see the maturity in Jude’s confident posture and hot fucking body. Jude’s sandy blond hair was cut close on the sides and left a bit longer on top. A faux hawk Rob wanted to fist his hands in as he ate Jude’s luscious lips. However, teasing…wanting…even thinking thoughts of Jude was playing with fire. Temptation he couldn’t touch, yet he hadn’t heeded his own good sense. He’d cracked the door with emails and late night phone calls.
“Rob?”
“Yeah, sorry.” He shook his head, shaking off thoughts of hard, hungry-for-cock college boys—Jude—with tight asses and ripped bodies. “I don’t think any of your friends are going to be interested.”
Jude clamped his teeth into his bottom lip. His intense blue-eyed gaze raked down Rob, leaving a sizzling awareness in its wake. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
Heat simmered in Rob’s chest. In a slow stretch, his cock hardened and his balls tightened. But he couldn’t want this, couldn’t risk destroying the two people who meant the most to him. “I’m flattered—”
“I was thinking we could hit the bars.”
Rob nearly choked on his breath. “The bars?”
“Yeah, this week. I’m home, need to hookup with old friends, and wouldn’t mind meeting a few new ones.” He set his beer on the counter. “I don’t know about you, but I need to get laid. Celibacy is for religious and ugly people.” He started out of the kitchen, leaving Rob speechless. “So are you still set up in the spare bedroom or are you in my room?”
Every fucking word out of Jude’s mouth had his dick jumping and his heart racing. “Your room?” Rob nearly swallowed his tongue. “No, not your room. I’m across the hall in the spare.”
“Great, then I’ll know where to find you if I have an emergency.”
“Huh?” Rob’s brain had short-circuited with talk of Jude’s room. He couldn’t squash the image of Jude in his bed.
“Resuscitation,” Jude said as he grabbed his duffel. “If you head to bed, I’ll see you in the morning.” He started up the stairs to the bedrooms.
Rob raked his fingers through his hair. Shit. Shit. Shit. Bars, hook-ups, and getting laid? What the fuck had happened to Jude? They weren’t pals, and didn’t party together. They weren’t like that. Sure, some of the emails lately had changed in tone, become…stimulating. Now Jude had all but asked for mouth to mouth. Christ, that thought had him hot and aching all over.
He glanced at the now vacant stairs. Jude had changed, but so had he. His feelings weren’t easy. They were complicated and intense and considering doing anything with Jude was impossible. Light spilled out from his open bedroom door. Rob kept the room across the hall. He lived an hour south and worked five minutes from Karen’s house. When he was on call, staying here was more convenient.
But not with Jude home. Not with the forbidden sensations rioting through his body. Rob could admit, deep down, where only he knew, he wanted Jude, wanted to top him, cramming him full of cock. Not always. There was a time when Jude was simply Karen’s boy and he’d been blessed to have a hand in watching him mature into an intelligent handsome young man. Then he’d gone away to school. When he returned on that first break, Rob’s saw the man—not the boy. Horrified, he’d buried his needs, swallowed the lust and focused on friendship. Not that it helped. He’d still wanted to fuck his best friend’s kid. He’d felt like a fucking perv. A growl rolled from his chest. Now, in a few hours, Jude had uncovered that dirty little secret. It was a game. And Jude was playing. Question was, would Rob?
A few minutes later, Rob checked the doors, shut off the lights and headed upstairs. The door to Jude’s room was ajar. Only a dim light filtered from within. He paused, wanting to turn away, but desperate for a glimpse. A shiver of apprehension crawled over his flesh. His breathing grew shallow. His bare feet froze to the floor.
In the reflection of the mirror, he watched Jude strip out of his shirt. Hard lines carved his corded abdominals. Saliva flooded Rob’s mouth and his dick jerked. Simmering heat in his balls boiled over and his cock head began to leak within his jeans. Jude had filled out. Gone was the twenty-ish twink replaced by strong shoulders and a dusting of hair across the contoured planes of his pectorals. More slightly curled hair trailed down his flat tempting stomach and swirled around his navel. Rob would dampen those hairs with his kisses and dip the tip of his tongue into the small recesses as he tasted lower on course to Jude’s cock. His belt was unbuckled and the black band of Jude’s underwear peeked out from the undone button of his jeans.
Rob quietly shifted his stance, cupped his dick and pressed into his palm to ease the ache. But the heat in his groin smoldered. His hands trembled. Rampant beats of his heart droned out the voice in his head that should be telling him to turn away rather than feed into the fantasy. But lust controlled him, claimed him and his eyes slid closed.
Rob’s mind filled with the image of Jude dropping to his knees and parting those full wide lips. Rob could almost feel the head of his cock pillowed against Jude’s hot, wet tongue. A shudder ripped through him and his breathing grew heavy. Suddenly he realized he was stroking his shaft through the denim of his jeans. His eyes snapped open. His gaze darted into the room…and locked with Jude’s.
“Fuck.”
~ Also available from Demanding Romance ~
Chamber of Secrets
by
Noel Kasey
COPYRIGHT 2010 by Noel Kasey
www.DemandingRomance.com
Andrew ran his fingertips over the servant drawn to the right of the main image. A flash of heat surged up his arm. Andrew gasped and jerked his hand back, but the heat intensified. Energy sizzled over his flesh. Muscles cramped and his body convulsed. His cock hardened and his blood seemed to boil within him. Euphoric numbness dizzied his mind. Unable to pull away, he touched the solid stone, yet his fingers faded, sinking into the hieroglyph.
“Andrew!” Khalid’s voice drifted into the distance. Andrew tried to reach for him, tried to grasp on and hold him, but Khalid spun, morphing into oblivion. His image had nearly disappeared. Panic crashed over Andrew.
“Khalid!” He cried out, but words floated unheard into the encroaching darkness. Darker. The lantern blew out and then Andrew was gone.
Andrew spiraled into nothingness. The world was gone…Khalid was gone. He choked, unable to breathe under the crushing weight of the darkness.
* * * * *
“Enter.” The harsh order weaved through the fog of his thoughts. Andrew tried to focus, but his head swam in confusion. He tried to take a step but his legs were weak and trembled under his weight. “Is this insolence?” The words were spoken in Old Egyptian—2500 BC.
“Kneel before your master, slave.” The rough order grated over Andrew. A hard jab to his back sent him to his knees. His palms hit the marble flooring. Pain knifed through his bones. He gasped for breath. Where the fuck was he? Last he remembered he’d been with Khalid, about to enter the burial chamber. Khalid! He jolted upright. Another blow to the back sent him to the floor again.
“You need a lesson in respect.” The lash of a whip snapped in the air a split second before the stinging spines lashed across his bare flesh. Andrew flinched, his muscles quivering with searing pain.
“No!” the other man bellowed. “Enough.”
Andrew drew in slow breaths and tried to wrap his mind around the hallucination. What other explanation was there? Except the thrash of the whip had felt real enough. The bloom of heat continued to pulse beneath his skin. And all he wore was a loincloth made of linen. His fantasy would include Khalid in a loincloth, or better yet, nothing at all.
Andrew stared at his hands. He wasn’t Egyptian, yet his skin was bronzed and scarred. His nails were short and his fingertips calloused. He remained in the submissive pose. Two men were on his right and several more were on his left. He couldn’t see beyond a few feet in front of him. The room was shrouded in shadows. Andrew listened. That
he understood the words was just as strange.
“Leave us.” The men surrounding Andrew shuffled from the room. No one spoke and the room grew quiet. “Guard the door,” the commanding voice told the last man. “No one is to enter.”
Should he fight…flee? How far would he get? Andrew’s heart thundered. Wait, this was his fantasy. Whipping had never been a fetish of his. Maybe it was since he’d already been thrashed once…and the burn aroused. His cock prodded against the thin material barely concealing his erection.
“Anum.”
The whispered word sent a shiver over his flesh. “Yes.” His name. Somehow two worlds began to blend. He was Anum, a servant. A lover. He lifted his eyes. Khalid. His word was a chant, a mantra to his master. Khalid? How could it be?
Other titles by AJ Hardcourt
Available from Demanding Romance
Beg For More
Broken
Cyber Lies
Dark Submission
Extreme Meet
In His Bed
Mutton Hollow Road
Pumping Iron
Trix (with Julian Dane)
www.DemandingRomance.com
