by L. A. Witt
My cell phone’s GPS guided me through the knotted interstates and weird roads that made up Portland, and eventually brought me to a stop in front of a gorgeous hotel. In fact, it was nice enough I had to double-check the confirmation he’d forwarded me to make sure it was the right place.
It was. I didn’t know who Brent had blown to get us a good deal on the room—or maybe officers really did make more than I thought—but this was not a cheap hotel. It was one of the glass high-rises overlooking the river.
I parked in the parking garage, took my bag out of the trunk, and headed inside. On the way to the elevator, I texted Brent to let him know I was here. When I got to the lobby, my phone buzzed with a reply—the room number.
The elevator took me up to the eighteenth floor. Our room was at the far end of the hall, and by the time I reached it, my heart was pounding from anticipation. It didn’t matter that we’d spent countless nights in his bed or mine. This was different. A little bit dangerous, a lot exciting, and an entirely new place than one of our bedrooms.
I knocked on the door and wasn’t at all surprised when I was greeted by a grinning—and stark-naked—Brent.
I dropped my bag at our feet and wrapped my arms around him. “Not wasting any time, are you?”
“Should I?” He lifted his chin for a long, languid kiss. “I only get you for three days. Why waste it?”
“Mmm, good point.”
He dragged his lips across mine. “I’m all ready for you too.”
“Ready for—” The piece fell into place, and my pulse surged. “You want to get fucked, don’t you?”
“So much. Right now.”
I wondered how long he’d been winding himself up for me. I pulled him closer, and as I kissed his neck, whispered, “Maybe I want to tease you anyway.”
The choked, frustrated groan made me laugh, but it also made my dick even harder.
“Fuck me,” he begged.
“Not yet.” Or I’ll go off before I’m inside you. God, I want you. I let him go, gently turned him around, and nudged him toward the bed. “Get on your back.”
He did as he was told, and I stripped off my clothes as I took in the view—Brent, naked and flushed and rock-hard, stretched out on the giant bed that was ours for the weekend. He didn’t touch himself, so he must’ve been as turned on as he’d said he was. As close to losing it as I was.
He bit his lip as I climbed onto the bed. When I settled between his legs instead of coming up to kiss him, he gasped, and as I took his hard cock into my mouth, he exhaled, and I swore I heard a ragged “Oh fuck yeah.”
Brent stroked my hair and gave soft moans of encouragement as I sucked his dick. When I tapped his thigh, he spread his legs wide, and good God, he wasn’t kidding about being ready—my fingers slid easily into his slick, prepped hole.
“I’ve been waiting all day for you to fuck me,” he breathed. “Don’t want to wait anymore.”
“But it’s fun to make you”—I curled my fingers inside him—“squirm.”
“Son of a bitch.” He arched. “God . . . c’mon . . .”
“How bad do you want it?”
He cursed under his breath. “If you’d made me wait another ten goddamned minutes, I’d— Oh fuck. I’d have . . . taken care of it myself.”
“No, I don’t think you would have.” I lapped at his balls, then took my sweet time dragging my tongue all the way up his cock. “Real thing’s worth waiting for, isn’t it?”
“So much. But . . . I was going crazy.”
“You don’t know what going crazy feels like yet.” I flicked my tongue across the head of his cock, and then as I withdrew my fingers, I said, “Stay there. I’ll get a condom.” I started for the bag I’d dropped on the floor, but he stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“Nightstand.”
I turned. Sure enough, he had a brand-new box of condoms and a full bottle of lube ready and waiting. I grinned. “You really didn’t want to wait tonight, did you?”
“No fucking way.”
I kissed him once more, then pulled a condom off the strip.
As I rolled on the rubber, Brent gestured across the room. “Should we shut the curtains?” He smirked, but there was a hint of shyness in his eyes. “I mean, we’re way up here, but still.”
I glanced at the windows. These weren’t regular hotel windows. Two entire walls of our room were floor-to-ceiling glass, and from this high up, we had to have a spectacular panoramic view of the city.
Electricity surged through me. “Actually, I have a better idea.” I got up and motioned for him to do the same. “Come here.”
A scowl flickered across his face, but he obeyed. I led him across the room, turned him around, and pushed him up against the window. He gasped, probably from the chill of the glass, and as I kissed along his neck, I said, “I want to fuck you right here. Where the whole city can see us.”
Brent moaned, and nothing about that sound said he objected to the idea. Especially not the way he was rubbing my cock with his ass.
“You like that idea?” I murmured.
“Uh-huh. ’Specially the . . . fucking me part.”
I grinned. “Someone’s getting turned on.”
“What was your first clue?” He looked over his shoulder. “Just fuck me already. Please?”
“Well, since you asked nicely . . .” I nudged his legs a little farther apart with my knee. Then, with the city laid out below us, sparkling in the night without noticing us all the way up here, I took him with a long, deep stroke, reveling in his helpless moans as he pressed back against me.
I kissed his neck and gazed over his shoulder out the window. The view sent a delicious thrill through me. After weeks of hiding this behind closed doors, now there was no one within almost a hundred miles who could give a flying fuck that my cock was inside Brent.
No one except me. Except us.
“Been looking forward to this all week,” I purred, and fucked him a little harder. I kept an arm around him so he wasn’t leaning completely on the glass. I was sure it would hold, but still—no point in taking chances.
“M-me too.” He shivered, and a soft, helpless sound escaped his lips.
As I fucked him deep and hard, I kissed the back of his neck. “You like that?”
He made another sound, one that was probably supposed to be “Yeah,” and his inability to speak drove me on. I sank my teeth into his shoulder, slammed my cock into his ass, and gave him everything I had. He cried out, voice vibrating against the window, and flattened one palm, then the other on the glass he was already fogging with his breath.
“Christ, you feel so good,” I moaned into his hair. “And you look . . . so hot.”
He whimpered and shuddered. “I’m gonna come.” His hands slid down the glass, squeaking and leaving smears of sweat behind. “God, Will, don’t stop.”
I gritted my teeth and held my breath, concentrating on keeping my own orgasm at bay until he’d come. I wanted him coming just like this, in full view of the city, so the whole world could see that he was mine and he was getting off to everything I was doing to him.
“Oh fuck.” He clawed at the window. A shudder nearly knocked him off his feet, and a hot huff of breath made a cloud across the glass. “Oh fuck, I’m . . . ungh . . . yeah . . .” He grunted, clenching around me, and I stopped holding back. I thrust as deep as I could, shuddering hard all the way down to my feet, and the city blurred below us before I had to close my eyes anyway.
With a sigh, his whole body went slack. Then mine did. I wrapped both arms around him to keep both of us upright, and kissed below his ear. “That was hot.”
“Uh-huh.” He shivered between me and the glass. “Think anyone saw us?” The grin in his voice made my skin tingle.
“I hope so,” I growled against his skin.
“Yeah. Me too.”
After a shower—and a lazy fuck in the giant stall—we were both getting hungry, not to mention a little eager to venture out in public for t
he first time. So, once we were both dressed and presentable—and once we could both stand without our hips threatening to dislocate—we went down to the hotel lobby. Neither of us felt like walking very far, and the hotel’s restaurant sounded good. This was one of those convention hotels with a gigantic restaurant and a menu with a little of everything. Perfect.
At our table in a far corner, as I skimmed over the menu, I kept stealing glances at Brent, and struggled to keep a poker face. He looked amazing, dressed down in a button-up black shirt and a pair of jeans, his hair still wet and meticulously arranged as always. No one could look at him and know that I’d been riding him against the window or in the shower within the past hour. That was all mine.
But that wasn’t the only thing that kept pulling my attention to him. It was hard not to get a little sentimental about this being the first time we’d ever eaten together in public. Some little voice inside my head tried to tell me that was insane since we were friends with benefits, but the thought didn’t stick. I couldn’t quite define what we were, only that the friends with benefits label didn’t fit so well anymore, and going out in public for dinner at a restaurant with candles and white tablecloths did fit.
I felt too good to try to define it, so I ignored that stupid voice. This was a short trip and a rare opportunity, and I was damn sure going to enjoy the hell out of it.
If we’d taken a chance and done this in Anchor Point, it would have been a disaster. We’d both be checking over our shoulders and jumping out of our skin every time the door opened.
Here, if someone we knew walked in, we could easily brush it off as running into each other and deciding to have dinner together instead of alone. Not technically fraternization since neither of us was in the other’s direct chain of command. Just two guys who happened to be in the same place at the same time.
Which seemed ridiculous, since the whole point of coming to Portland had been to take a break from the nonstop discretion. Baby steps.
Well, aside from the part where we’d fucked against a window in plain view of anyone who’d chosen to look, but I doubted anyone would recognize us from that far away. I just loved the idea of someone—anyone—seeing how much I wanted this man.
Brent’s eyes flicked up, and he caught me staring. A blush bloomed in his cheeks. “What?”
“Nothing.” I cleared my throat and dropped my gaze to the menu I’d been ignoring. “Uh . . . nothing.”
“You sure?” He laid his menu down and reached across the table, and right there in the restaurant, slid his hand over my forearm.
Our eyes locked. We both grinned. Our cover was blown now. If anyone walked in and saw us, we were busted, and I . . . didn’t pull away.
Fucking above the city had nothing on the electric thrill of a brazen act of affection at a secluded table in a deserted restaurant. Heart racing, I turned my hand over, and we closed our fingers around each other’s forearms.
Neither of us had to say a word.
So we didn’t.
We just let the moment be.
After dinner, we wandered into the lobby to check out the display of tourist attractions. Being November, a lot of things were closed or not at their peak of attractiveness—apparently roses were a big thing here, and shockingly, they didn’t grow so well in the cold. We took a few pamphlets to peruse later.
As he tucked them into his pocket, Brent said, “It’s still kind of early to call it a night. You want to go out somewhere?”
“Well, that is why we’re here, isn’t it?”
“Good point.” He looked around. “So, what should we do? Go wander downtown, or . . .?”
“Let’s save that for daylight. I think I saw a theater down the road. Maybe we could see what’s playing.”
“A movie?” Brent grinned. “Almost like a real date.”
“Almost?”
Our eyes locked, and his grin turned into a smile.
We walked a block or so to the multiplex, and though there must’ve been fifteen movies playing, it didn’t take us long to settle on the latest comic-turned-action-film. Thank God we didn’t compare notes on what ages we’d each been when we’d started reading the comics. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
We bought our tickets and headed into the auditorium.
It was mostly empty, so we had an entire row to ourselves, not to mention the rows in front of and behind us. Even better, this theater had armrests that could actually be lifted up, so Brent put up the one between us and slid in close to me. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders.
“Man, this is crazy,” he said.
“What is?”
“It really does feel like we’re on an actual date.” He craned his neck enough to look up at me. “Our first real date, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is.” I kissed him softly. “So the question is, do you fuck on a first date?”
He squirmed beside me and slid his hand down my thigh. “Would that make me a slut?”
“Absolutely. Of the dirtiest kind.” I guided his hand higher, stopping just shy of my crotch. “My favorite kind.”
He looked up again, and when our eyes met in the low light, we both laughed.
“Good thing I like being a slut.” He lifted his chin and kissed me lightly. “Because I am one hundred percent planning on fucking on our first date.”
“Perfect.” I cradled the back of his head and went in for a longer, deeper kiss.
There weren’t a lot of people in the auditorium, and nobody within four rows of us, so I wasn’t too worried about bothering anyone. And I had to admit, I got a charge out of kissing Brent and talking dirty with him in a public place. There was no one around to catch us, and no reason for me not to seize the opportunity for one of those long, languid kisses that had me so addicted to him.
I tugged his hair, pulling his head back, and started kissing his neck. His hand slid up the inside of my thigh, and he teased my cock and balls through my jeans. Neither of us made a sound—not one that could be heard over the ads playing on the screen—but he was practically vibrating with arousal. So was I. Because he was mine. For the entire weekend, the Navy could go fuck itself, and Brent was mine.
The music suddenly faded, and I opened my eyes in time to see the lights dim.
“Movie’s starting.” I drew back. “Don’t want to miss it, do you?”
He gave a frustrated little moan but settled against my shoulder, keeping his hand on my thigh and dangerously close to my dick.
As the previews kicked on, I kissed his temple, then whispered, “One more thing.”
“Hmm?”
“When we get back? You’re on top.”
There was no way in hell I was going to remember one single line from this movie. In fact, as soon as he’d said those words, I’d forgotten what movie we were seeing in the first place.
He had to have done it on purpose. He’d obviously enjoyed me being spun up earlier, and he probably wanted me spun up when we got back to the room. As if he needed to work at it—just knowing I was spending all of tonight with him was enough to keep me at half-mast almost constantly.
Well, if I was going to be distracted, so was he.
I hooked a finger under his chin and turned him to face me. He didn’t resist at all as I pulled him in, and when our lips met, my whole body tingled as if this were the first time I’d touched him all week. We’d fucked earlier? This was the first I’d heard of it.
His hand warmed my cheek. It stayed there, gently resting on the side of my face, and I hoped he didn’t move it anytime soon.
He didn’t. And we didn’t move either. We ignored the film and wrapped up in each other, exploring each other’s mouths.
So this was what it was like to make out in a movie theater. Mentally, I was already dragging him into bed and tearing off his clothes. In reality, though, I intended to savor this for as long as I could. I’d never done it as a teenager because I’d been too afraid of getting caught. I’d never done it with him for the same reason.
Tonight, there was nothing to do except lose myself in Will’s soft, sensual kiss. Had we been someplace private, we’d have had free rein to do anything we wanted. Here in a theater, kissing and touching each other over clothes was as far as we could go, and . . . I loved it. The creak of his leather jacket. The way my scalp tingled whenever his fingers combed through my hair. The heat of his hand through the denim on my thigh. As I snaked my hand between his jacket and his shirt, it was as hot as if I were touching his bare skin.
And, dear God, kissing for the sake of kissing was quickly becoming my favorite thing ever. The way his lips and tongue moved lazily with mine? Oh yeah, I could do this for hours if he was on board. I probably wouldn’t be able to feel my mouth by the time we were done, but oh fucking well.
Will let a couple of daring fingers slip under my shirt, and when they grazed my side, I shivered, which pushed me closer to him. He grinned against my lips and slid his whole hand under my shirt and onto my back. How the hell could that be as erotic as if he were groping my ass or stroking my dick?
He started to draw his hand back, but I caught his arm.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Just . . .” I swallowed. “Don’t want you to stop.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“Oh, yeah you are.”
He laughed softly, and his hand rested more firmly on my skin as he kissed me again, and damn if that hot point of contact didn’t take this to the next level. It hadn’t been more than two hours since he’d been balls-deep in me, and somehow having his hand on my back under my shirt was enough to make my pulse surge.
I ran my palm up his inner thigh. The quiet growl that rumbled against my lips gave me goose bumps, especially as his fingers curled into my back. When I ran the tip of my thumb along the very edge of his erection, he shuddered hard.
“Someone’s turned on,” I said.
“And you’re not?”
“I didn’t say that.”
He took his hand out from under my shirt and guided mine all the way onto his cock. In a husky whisper, he said, “Maybe we should go back to the room.”
