Cleaning the muck from the crab off the counter, he wrapped it up to be taken out later. The place reeked. He consoled himself at the thought of how tasty the creatures would be when they had dinner. The key turned in the lock then Kirk appeared in the doorway. Shane had been in the middle of a futile attempt to eradicate the exceedingly strong odor of fish that covered him—not that Kirk wasn’t overly familiar with that scent.
As if on cue, he breathed in deeply. “You picked up more crabs?”
“Yeah, two for one special. There’s been a great haul this season. That okay?”
Kirk had been advancing on him as he spoke until they were toe to toe. He pushed Shane against the kitchen counter with the force of his body then descended on his lips. Kirk tasted good. His kisses always hit Shane low in his belly, Shane’s balls tightening in response. Kirk used his tongue to explore Shane’s mouth, each swipe deepening their connection, demanding that Shane give Kirk whatever he wanted to take.
Shane stopped caring about fishy smells and what he’d planned for dinner or even the idea he wanted to share with Kirk. All he cared about was his lover’s touch, what Kirk would do with his body, to his body.
Kirk ground into him with force. Even though they were the same height and Shane had more than proved his strength, Kirk was tough, broader. Years of working long hours on the boat, hauling in fish, all of it had built a powerhouse of a man. The way he’d always used Shane during sex was shameless—until after the night of the storm. Once Shane had been hurt, Kirk’s tenderness and protective streak had manifested itself completely. Shane had sensed those qualities in the man he loved, and they’d been fully unleashed after the rescue.
But he wanted to be taken by Kirk the way he liked best. Hard. Rough. He needed it, needed to feel that someone else was taking care of everything for a change. Taking care of him.
Shane ran his hands up Kirk’s back, his lover’s muscles rippling as he undulated under Shane’s touch. Kirk moaned into the increasingly passionate kiss, both of them struggling to breathe in through their nostrils, reluctant to break the connection. Shane was the first to stop. They were breathless—Shane’s erection like steel, Kirk’s just as solid. It was incredibly difficult to stop himself from rutting against Kirk’s hip, and had Shane only wanted to get off quickly, they could have kept grinding into one another until they’d gotten what they wanted.
But Shane expected much more out of their evening.
“I need you Kirk. You. The way you hold me down, make me take it.”
At Shane’s words, Kirk circled his pelvis, pressed his hard length against Shane, a low moan in his chest. Yeah. Kirk wanted to make him take it too.
Shane struggled within Kirk’s arms, pushing at his chest. Kirk’s eyes darkened and he tightened his hold on him. As Shane twisted within his embrace, Kirk growled as he shoved his thigh between Shane’s legs, rubbing his dick against Shane’s leaking shaft. The restriction of the tight denim he wore heightened his pleasure, even as it increased his discomfort.
Shane mock fought Kirk some more, grappling with him, inciting him to go further than he ever had before. He bit into the crook of Shane’s neck and he cried out. It fucking hurt but Kirk soothed the spot with the wet heat of his tongue and Shane moaned his contentment.
“Yeah, babe. Like that.”
Kirk grabbed him by the nape of his neck before stepping away from Shane’s body. He took Shane’s arm, and bent it behind his back, capturing his uninjured wrist in a bruising hold. Pushing Shane out of the kitchen by his neck and arm, Kirk marched them both into the bedroom. When he reached the end of the bed, he threw Shane on it then landed on top of him.
The action forced the air from him again, but it didn’t matter because Kirk’s large frame covered him, kept him safe. They wrestled more, Shane doing all he could to make Kirk hold him stronger, more severely. He bucked, he writhed, every action designed to encourage Kirk to restrain him. But Shane also needed Kirk to fuck him, needed his thick cock up his ass.
“Ropes.” He’d barely been able to gasp out the word. Sweat dripped from his forehead along the sides of his face. “Tie me down. Show me how much you want my tight, hot hole.”
Yeah, he knew he was a power bottom. But Kirk had assured him more than once that whenever Shane lost himself in a pure frenzy of lust, it completely turned him on.
Kirk’s heated breath tickled his ear canal. “Your wrist…”
“Other one. I’ll hang on to the one that’s tied.”
Kirk nuzzled him behind his ear, a shiver running down his spine as he growled against his skin.
“And you won’t let go no matter what, right?”
“I won’t.” Shane whimpered, a wave of neediness passing over him. “You don’t let go either.”
“Never. Gonna hold you down so you can’t move, can’t speak. You’ll only be able to take my cock as I slam it into your ass over and over.”
Fuck.
Words were lost to him, his thoughts garbled. He wanted Kirk to do that to him, couldn’t wait any longer. Kirk lifted off him and the sudden loss of his lover’s weight left him feeling as if he were nothing, as if he wasn’t even there at all. It made him ache.
Kirk yanked him back by his belt until he was on his knees. Shane went lax, his signal to his lover that he could manipulate him how he wished. Kirk removed his clothes, his movements jerky and harsh. Once he was completely nude, Kirk pushed him back onto his stomach. Logically he understood that Kirk would also have to remove his own clothing, to be unable to touch him for a brief moment, but it didn’t stop Shane from missing their connection.
Closing his eyes, he made himself wait for whatever Kirk wanted to do to him next. He liked to demand what he wanted at the beginning but then he would be ready for Kirk to take over. The sound of the closet opening and closing, the drawer sliding open then snicking shut—each movement by Kirk meant there was something delicious in store for Shane.
Kirk wrapped the terrycloth belt from his robe around his good wrist then secured it to the corner post of the maple headboard. Kirk made a point of placing Shane’s hurt wrist over the tied one then loosely wrapped the remaining tail of the soft belt around it.
“Remember what I said. No letting go.”
Shane nodded. “You too.”
Kirk turned Shane’s head and captured his lips for a brief, but hungry kiss. “Me too.”
He sat back on Shane’s calves, Kirk’s nut sac hot on Shane’s legs. Moisture from the slit of Kirk’s dick trailed on Shane’s skin and a fleeting thought of it being wasted ran through his mind. He sucked in a sharp breath. Kirk had parted his cheeks and was vigorously fingering him, slicking him up, readying him to be breached.
Shane was flush to the bed, his nuts and stiffened flesh pressed into the mattress. It didn’t hurt—in its own way, the restriction gave him comfort—but there was only the barest hint of friction. Certainly not enough to give him any relief.
As Kirk readjusted himself, Shane anticipated Kirk dragging him to his knees or putting a pillow under his hips. Instead, with Shane completely flat, Kirk lifted himself just enough that Shane could feel Kirk’s hard length glide along his crease. Kirk had liberally greased Shane’s crack, and the more Kirk slid back and forth, back and forth, the more his pucker loosened until at last, his lover’s sheathed cock punched into his channel.
Shane hissed, the position creating more burn than he was accustomed to. Kirk lay across his body, covering him, allowing his weight to press his ample length deep inside Shane’s passage—deeper than he’d ever felt a man before. It was intense. Full. Too much, but not really, not when all that Shane craved was too much. Kirk spread his own legs enough to cage Shane’s thighs. He reached around and clamped his large hand over Shane’s mouth, Shane’s nose exposed so that his air wasn’t completely cut off. Kirk lifted his pelvis in the slightest then slammed home. Shane grunted against Kirk’s palm.
It was the only warning Kirk gave before the relentless pounding
began. It was exactly what Shane had desired—being held underneath Kirk, restrained by him, muted by him. It had reduced his entire world to one tiny spot in his body, the place where Kirk claimed him over and over with harsh thrusts.
Sweat pooled between their bodies, their skin slippery. Their flesh slapped together as Shane allowed Kirk to have his way, to control him completely. Kirk’s fucking turned erratic, his stabs more shallow. He seemed to angle himself so that his next thrust hit Shane’s gland perfectly. He cried out against Kirk’s palm at the electric jolt of it. Kirk did it again. And again, each nudge bringing him higher.
Shane’s balls tightened without warning, his climax surging through him in an explosive wave. He came so hard, so fast, he thought he might faint from the intensity of it. Almost immediately, he felt the warmth of Kirk’s release in the condom inside him, and he clenched his inner muscles to milk Kirk’s dick even more.
Once they’d settled next to one another, and after Kirk had untied his one wrist, Shane curled into Kirk’s side. Kirk enfolded him in an embrace and Shane had all he’d ever need.
* * * *
Kirk woke up to the sounds of water running in the kitchen. Shane’s wicked demands had worn him out. He sat up, rubbing a hand briskly through his hair. He stood then grabbed the robe he’d stolen the belt from, his gaze falling on the blue piece of cloth still tied to the post. It made him smile. Hell, pretty much everything he did with Shane made him smile.
Entering the kitchen, he was thrilled to see that Shane had everything put together for them to share a hearty meal—fresh crab, baked potato, garlic bread and string beans. There was even a nice white wine. Kirk chuckled at the scene. Shane sauntered over to him and lazily kissed him, his lips moving slowly, wetly.
“Thank you. It’s nice not to have to cook sometimes.”
As much as Kirk loved his job at the Lighthouse Grill, loved cooking, he also appreciated a night off now and again.
Shane laughed and indicated to the chairs. “Let’s feast then.”
They sat down and dug in, Kirk not realizing until he’d taken the first bite of the sweet crab meat how hungry he really was. Shane knew how to give him an appetite. They ate in happy silence for a while, Kirk noting how ravenous Shane was as well. Sitting back, Shane picked up his wine glass then took a good swallow.
“Did everything work out at the insurance office?”
Kirk couldn’t contain his grin. “It’s all settled. Now all we have to do is decide what to do with the money. I already told you I’m done with fishing.” He paused. “Well, commercial fishing anyway.”
Shane regarded him with confusion.
“What is it sweetheart?”
“You said ‘we’.”
Kirk had already anticipated Shane’s reaction. “Yes. We. You and me.”
Shane chewed at his lower lip, frowning. “But…”
“Cut it out.”
Shane glanced up at him.
Kirk continued. “You said to me yourself that you’ve put money away to get a house for both of us. Why wouldn’t I also use this insurance money to enhance our future? We’re a family, Shane. Partners. So we should discuss how we plan on using our money.”
Shane stared at him as if he had some mysterious agenda he’d been keeping hidden. “In that case, did you ever ask old Monty how much of a deposit he needed for you take over the Lighthouse Grill?”
Kirk straightened. He’d assumed Shane would want to discuss what type of house they wanted to get. Ever since his request for permanent orders in Astoria had been granted, they’d talked about it quite a bit. The way Shane had been saving his money, he’d told Kirk that they’d have enough for a hefty down payment within three or four years, depending on the size of the home. With Kirk’s insurance money, they wouldn’t have to wait. Of course, Kirk’s income stream had dwindled now that he was out of the fishing business.
“What are you saying, Shane? I thought you wanted us to get a house together?”
Shane reached across the table to take both of Kirk’s hands.
“Of course I do. I want that very much. But we can wait a few years. There’s plenty of time. Although, if you’re pulling in enough from the Lighthouse, we may not have to wait too long anyway.”
“Shane…I… That was just a pipe dream. I don’t know if I’d be any good at it.”
“You know all their popular dishes, right? You know how much the place takes in, all of that. It’s a local hangout, Kirk. You said yourself that everyone there likes it when you’re the one cooking. Now you can be there all the time. Monty’s going to retire and sell that place to someone. What if the new owner changes everything or no longer wants you to cook for them? Besides, Joel needs a place to work if he ever has any chance of paying you back for the boat.”
After a long, serious discussion regarding responsibility and consequences for one’s actions, Kirk and Cindy had told Joel that he needed to pay back the insurance deductible. Joel had readily agreed, apologizing over and over for not standing up to his friends when they’d egged him on about going out and enjoying the storm waves. Kirk still marveled that things hadn’t turned out worse on that awful day.
An even nicer outcome of everything was Joel’s newfound respect and admiration for Shane. His mom’s boyfriend had drummed it into his head that gay men were too weak to serve in the military—that they never should have been allowed to serve. In the aftermath of the storm, Joel had told Barry what he thought of his opinions. It hadn’t gone over well, and it had come down to Barry giving Cindy an ultimatum—either him or Joel. It hadn’t been a difficult choice.
Shane stared at him in that way he had when he wanted Kirk to do what he said. It was like he was power bottoming him over the idea of restaurant ownership.
What the hell. It can be the new family business.
“You think I can do it?”
“You’d better fucking do it.”
Yeah. Power bottom.
Coming Soon from Totally Bound Publishing:
Sin City Uniforms: Held Hostage
Morticia Knight
Released 9th June 2015
Excerpt
Chapter One
SWAT team entry specialist Cole Silva peered through his binoculars at a young man, maybe early twenties, who stood on the roof of sixty-four floors’ worth of the Trump International Hotel. He lowered the glasses, taking in the scene of chaos surrounding him. The sun was beginning to set behind the hills to his right as he looked toward the Mirage Resort Casino. Cole raised the binoculars again. A gust of wind plastered a gray T-shirt tight against the suicidal man’s torso.
If Steve doesn’t get him away from the edge soon, the force of the winds alone will send him over.
Cole watched as the would-be jumper brushed a lock of dark hair out of his eyes then teetered, dangerously close to ending his own life. Cole waited for orders as he viewed the scene from the ground. The man appeared small, helpless.
Jesus, Steve. Hurry.
A call came in on his radio.
“Z8 at the roof now.”
The commander’s voice followed, “Roger, Z8, do the best you can.”
When the call had come in, Cole and the rest of the team had been skeptical that anyone could’ve made it onto the roof. Safety precautions were in place. It wasn’t as if the general public could go traipsing up to the top of the tower whenever they felt like it. Once they’d heard that the plea for help had come from one of the maintenance men who’d been held at gunpoint until he’d let the agitated man through, they’d realized that it wasn’t a hoax after all.
He knew Steve and the rest of the team were in position, so all he could do was wait. Raising the binoculars once more, he willed the man on the roof to step back. It was utter nonsense to believe his thoughts could change the outcome of the scene unfolding before him, but he couldn’t help it. Death for someone so young was difficult for him to take. There’d been plenty of horror that he’d witnessed in Kabul. Since working for th
e force, he’d also seen what happened to a body when it hit the ground at over a hundred miles per hour. He didn’t wish to see it again.
Less than two minutes after the radio fell silent, the boy on the edge turned to look behind him then extended his arms at his sides. Although they were too far away to hear, Cole felt sure the suicidal young man was screaming at Steve. This wasn’t his first rodeo.
Come on, kid, listen to reason.
LVMPD had set barriers around the area in order to keep the rapidly forming crowd at bay. The tourists always loved a good show, but he doubted they understood that whatever they witnessed should the jumper follow through on his intentions would scar them for life. A sea of uniforms moved quickly in an effort to control the situation, their primary goal being to prevent the need for a coroner.
Steve had to be successful.
The man on the roof lowered his arms a few moments later, moved a little farther back from the edge—though not far enough for comfort. He was still a threat to himself, but it appeared to Cole that Steve had made some progress. Within another couple of minutes, he was no longer within visual range from the ground and Cole assumed Steve had broken through the poor guy’s tortured mind. It was imperative that the commander not interrupt Steve during the delicate negotiations to find out.
Another half hour ticked by just before Cole’s radio went off again. “We’re coming down.”
“Roger.”
Cole sighed, relief coursing through him. Whenever an operation went south, it would fuck with his head for days. Those around him wouldn’t know his inner battle—his emotional armor was a carefully constructed wall and a gift that was leftover from his Army Ranger days. If he wasn’t so passionate about his line of work, he wouldn’t wish the stress on anyone. But his career as an entryman for Las Vegas SWAT was what he did, it was what he knew.
The young man exited the building with Steve’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. Steve led him to an ambulance waiting at the scene so paramedics could check him out. When it seemed as if the near-suicide victim was safe and had been transported, Steve walked toward Cole, fist bumping a number of fellow SWAT team members as he made his way through the people standing between them.
Safe Shores Page 5
