by Witt, L. A.
“Oh really?”
“Mm-hmm.” He swept his tongue across his lips. “One, I’ve been in a very, very long dry spell that I think I’m looking forward to ending tonight.”
I gulped. Oh God. “And the . . . second problem?”
“The second problem is you.” He dragged a fingertip alongside my wrist. “You’ve been distracting me like you wouldn’t believe since the eagle trip.”
“That doesn’t seem like a problem to me. Because you’ve been doing the same to me, and now we’re both here. Problem solved, right?”
“That problem is solved, yes. But considering how quickly I’ve come just thinking about you recently, I don’t imagine it’s going to take long when I have the real thing.”
Holy. Fucking. Hell.
Calling on every bit of control I had, I stayed calm and cool, and leaned in even closer. “I don’t think any of that’s going to be a problem tonight.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because the way I’m planning on fucking you?” I flashed him a grin. “I wouldn’t expect you to last long anyway.”
Scott gulped. Then he gestured to the waiter. “Check, please?”
Chapter 6
I’d had my share of anonymous one-night stands, but this was a weird mix of playful flirting and being startlingly direct. One second we were teasing each other over a couple of drinks, and the next we were walking toward his condo a couple of blocks away.
What’re you doing, Jeremy? Remember all those times you’ve clicked with some guy in a bar, taken him home, and realized he’s got all the sexual prowess of a fence post?
At the very least, shouldn’t I have kissed him first? Made sure he knew what to do with his mouth before the clothes came off?
On the other hand, I had a strange feeling that if I kissed him, the clothes would start coming off, and Scott was right about Bluewater Bay—progressive, but not quite okay with public indecency.
And if Scott could put his money where his mouth was, this was going to be one hell of a night of private indecency.
He didn’t disappoint. We’d barely made it into his condo before he grabbed me, shoved me hard against the front door, and finally kissed me.
Oh.
My God.
I was pretty sure Scott didn’t have a tentative bone in his body, and his kiss only underscored that. He cupped my neck in both hands. His erection pressed against mine, and he rocked his hips just enough to create the most amazing friction. He kissed aggressively, borderline desperately, but he still felt . . . controlled. Like nothing—no gasps, no shivers, no electric shudders rippling down my spine or his—happened without his explicit say-so.
He’d been bold in the tavern, but here? Behind closed doors?
Holy shit.
He slid a hand up into my hair, pulled my head back, and started kissing my neck. His stubble was rough, his lips soft, and I was about to fucking come unglued.
“Do me a favor,” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin.
“Hmm?”
“Don’t let Dr. Vincent know I’m poaching his patients for sex.”
I laughed and sounded delirious, maybe even drunk. “It’s all right. I’m not a patient.”
“You’re not?” He worked his way up toward my ear. “I’ve seen you there a few times, though.”
“Yeah, I’m a—” My breath hitched when his teeth grazed my earlobe, and for a second, I forgot what I did for a living. “I’m a . . .” C’mon, Jeremy. God, his mouth . . . “I’m a bodyguard.” Knew it was there somewhere.
“You’re . . .” He lifted his head. “You’re her bodyguard?”
“Yeah.”
He drew back a little, eyes wide. “Oh. Right. You said . . . security . . .”
“Is that bad?” Please don’t tell me I just killed the mood.
“It’s . . .” Scott swept his tongue across his lips. “I don’t date cops as a rule.”
“That’s okay. I don’t date.”
“Well, in that case . . .” He kissed me again, even harder, and gripped my hair tight enough to make my scalp burn.
On some level, I probably should’ve been offended, or at least questioned why he didn’t date cops, but I was too turned on to care. I wasn’t interested in dating at all, so this arrangement was fine by me.
Abruptly, Scott broke the kiss and took my hand. “Bedroom.”
Like I was going to argue.
As soon as we stepped into the bedroom, it was my turn to push him back against a wall. I kissed him, and he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose when I ground my cock against his. His clothed cock. Goddamn, we had too many clothes on.
I pushed his shirt off. No surprise at all—he was even hotter like this. He wasn’t a bear, but he wasn’t waxed and hairless either. Graying hair fanned across his chest, and a sprinkling of thinner, darker ones covered his abs, which were flat and smooth—no paunch, no six-pack. Maybe he’d never make the cover of Men’s Fitness, but he was definitely the stuff of my fantasies—a man who wore his forties like some men wore their twenties.
And below his belt, an impressive hard-on pressed against the front of his pants.
Our eyes met, and we both grinned. Definitely time to get all these clothes out of the way.
We separated and shed the rest of our clothing. Oh yes, he was much hotter naked—and the bulge hadn’t lied. He wasn’t going to break anybody in half, but a dick like that promised to fuck plenty of orgasms out of me.
We moved to the bed, and the second we touched again, Scott took over. He pinned me down on the mattress and straddled me, grinding his cock against mine, and before I could even process how overwhelmingly hot that was, he leaned down to kiss me again. And then he started down to my neck. His coarse stubble scraped across my collarbone, leaving a faint burn in its wake, and I bit my lip, arching beneath him. God, it was like he’d mapped out every erogenous zone in my body and knew exactly how and when to capitalize on them.
Then he dug his teeth into my shoulder, and electricity jolted my whole body.
“Shit!” I gasped for breath. “I thought . . . I thought you said you didn’t bite.”
“I did.” He kissed the spot he’d bitten, and when our eyes met, his wicked grin made my toes curl. “I said I didn’t bite, and you seemed—” He thrust against me, taking my breath away, and groaned, “You seemed kind of disappointed by it.”
Oh God . . .
“You’re the quiet type,” he murmured against my throat. “That type’s always . . . aggressive as fuck.”
“You’re one to talk.”
His lips curved against my neck. “Touché.”
“It’s a . . .” I shuddered beneath him. “Being aggressive . . . that’s a good thing, right?”
“So good.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Before he could answer, I grabbed him, flipped him on his back, and pinned him down.
Scott moaned, wriggling beneath me but making no attempt to resist. “Oh fuck.”
“You have condoms, right?”
“We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
“Good.” I had some too, but chances were his were closer. “Because I want to fuck—”
He cut me off with a deep, hard kiss, breaking it only so he could murmur, “Now.”
I was dead, wasn’t I? And heaven was actually a hot guy’s bed with an eternal supply of lube, wasn’t it?
I touched my forehead to his. “I get the feeling you like it rough.”
He dragged his nails up my back, forcing a groan from my lips.
I recovered enough to murmur, “Condoms . . . where are—”
“Bedside table.”
I lifted myself up and reached for the drawer. Sure enough, he had an unopened box. Perfect. And plenty of lube. Yes.
As I opened the box and pulled out a condom, Scott lifted himself up on his elbows. Watching me, he shifted onto one elbow and, with his free hand, slowly stroked his cock. Of course, that did nothing to hel
p me remember how to perform complicated tasks like putting on a condom.
He grinned. “Need a hand?”
“Looks like yours is busy. I’ve got this.” Thank God, my coordination picked that moment to come back online, and I rolled the condom on without incident.
He started to get up, but I pushed him back down and climbed on top.
“I want you on your back.” I kissed him. “This way I can watch your face while I fuck you.”
Scott moaned, gripping my arms painfully tight.
I nipped the side of his neck. “Unless you thought you were going to be on top tonight?”
“I don’t . . .” He shivered beneath me. “I’m game. Either way. Just hurry up.”
The eagerness in his tone went right to my balls. Definitely time to put on some lube, because I could not wait any longer.
I got up again, but he beat me to the lube bottle and poured some on his hand. As he stroked lube onto my cock, he kissed me. Jesus Christ. I could’ve let him finish me off just like that—even with the condom, his hand was driving me insane, and the way he kissed was unreal.
But he wanted to be fucked, and I wasn’t about to disappoint him.
I nudged him back onto the pillows. He put one behind his hips, then spread his legs wider, and as I put some lube in him, he closed his eyes and bit his lip. When I slipped my fingers free, he opened his eyes and met mine, and my God, he looked like he was halfway there—pupils blown, eyelids heavy.
“Been fantasizing about this for days,” he slurred.
“You and me both.” I guided myself to him. I was in a hurry and so was he, but he’d said he was coming to the end of a dry spell. No sense killing the mood by moving too fast and hurting him.
So despite my eagerness, I took my time. I pressed against him, and as soon as I met resistance, stopped. Didn’t draw back, but didn’t push forward either.
He shut his eyes again, tighter this time, slowly releasing his breath. Neither of us moved or made a sound.
Gradually, he relaxed. Still, I took my time, adding more pressure, but letting him take me rather than forcing myself in.
The head of my cock slid inside, and I gasped. Scott bit his lip, tensing around me but making no move to stop me as I eased myself deeper. I withdrew a little, and then slid in farther. If we’d both been younger and less patient, I’d already be deep inside him and fucking him into the mattress. But there was definitely something to be said for these shallow strokes, letting the head of my cock press through that tight ring and then back out again. I was easing myself deeper, but also enjoying this. Enjoying the sensations, and the sight of him lying there, struggling to breathe, eyes closed and brow knitted as if taking me required intense concentration.
Even as I fucked him, I couldn’t get enough of touching him. I slid my palms all over his abs, his sides, his shoulders—when had I ever had my hands all over a man this gorgeous? Not recently, that was for sure.
“Feel all right?” I asked.
“All right?” He laughed drunkenly and looked up at me. “Gonna feel a lot more ‘all right’ when you really start fucking me.”
“Oh yeah?” I thrust into him and knocked that smirk right off his face.
He gasped, arched, grabbed the sheets. “God, yeah . . .”
As I slowly withdrew, I asked, “That how you like it?”
“You better believe—”
I slammed into him again. And again. And there was no stopping. He was taking me easily now, and I wasn’t worried about hurting him. If anything, I was worried about not hurting him enough, and I fucked him deep and hard until his headboard was probably knocking plaster off his neighbor’s wall.
Eyes squeezed shut, back arched, he pumped his cock in time with my thrusts. “Holy shit, Jeremy . . .”
I dug my teeth into my lip, as if that little bit of pain might actually distract me enough to keep from losing control. Not likely. The best sex I’d had in ages was a double-edged sword—I didn’t want it to be over, but there was no way I wasn’t coming. Thank God for the condom. It dulled the sensations just enough to keep me from going off even sooner.
My rhythm started coming apart, and so did I. For a few seconds, I teetered on the edge, and then Scott took over, rocking his hips, and I came, and I thought this orgasm would go on forever.
I slumped over him, barely coherent enough to remember to keep my weight off him so he could breathe. Scott cradled my face in both hands and kissed me gently, and I damn near collapsed the rest of the way.
“Knew you’d be amazing,” I slurred. “Fuck . . .”
“Likewise.” He kissed me again.
I pulled out and sat back to take off the condom. My hands weren’t very steady, though.
“Here.” He sat up too. “Let me help.”
“I got it,” I said. “Just a little clumsy right now.”
He grinned. “Par for the course, isn’t it?”
“It so is. Be right back.” I got up to get rid of the condom, paused to wash my hands, and then returned to the bedroom.
As I joined him in bed, Scott was starting to sit up.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I grinned and shoved him back down. “Did I say I was done with you?”
He laughed. “I should hope you’re not— Oh, Jesus . . .” He groaned as I took his thick cock between my lips. I teased him with my lips and tongue, exploring every inch from crown to base, and the sounds he made—sharp gasps, soft groans, whispered curses—drove me wild. He ran his hand through my hair, fingers twitching against my scalp, and lifted his hips just slightly, as if he wanted to fuck my mouth but didn’t want to overdo it.
Then I pushed his legs apart, and he whimpered as I slid two fingers inside him.
“Oh God . . .” He tightened around my fingers and pushed his cock deeper into my mouth. I didn’t hold back at all—fucking him with my hand, teasing him with my lips and tongue until he wasn’t even cursing anymore. Still moaning, still gasping, but not forming any actual words. He was squirming and tensing so much, he was damn near levitating off the mattress, and I kept at it. No way was I stopping until I had to peel him off the ceiling.
Then his fingers tightened in my hair, his cock thickened between my lips, and he released the most helpless moan I’d ever heard. As he came, his whole body collapsed back onto the bed, and I swallowed every drop, teasing him with my tongue until he begged me to stop.
As I came up and lay down beside him, he was still trembling. Eyes closed, he brushed some sweat off his forehead and panted, “I knew I should’ve given you my number on the eagle tour.”
“How did you even know I was gay?”
Without opening his eyes, Scott grinned. “Because you didn’t miss a beat about Eagles the Musical, and you were perfectly articulate with everyone on the tour except me and our boat guide.”
“Didn’t think anyone noticed that last part.”
He chuckled and felt around for my hand. “I can’t blame you. That boat guide was fucking hot.”
“He was.” I paused. “You must get a lot of guys who forget how to talk around you.”
Scott laughed, and he finally turned to me as he slid his hand up my arm. “Not really. I didn’t quite know what to make of it until I saw you stammering with the guide. And then I saw you checking out his ass, and . . . well . . .”
“Yeah. Guilty.” I pulled him closer. “For the record, you have a much better ass than he does.”
Scott’s eyebrow shot up. “How much of his have you seen?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I winked.
“You’re joking.”
“Yes.” I laughed. “Maybe we should book a tour and see if he’s down for a threesome.”
“I’m not sure his wife would appreciate that.”
“Wife?”
Scott nodded. “Saw his ring when he had his glove off for a minute, and then heard him mention her to someone.”
“Damn.”
“I mean, I guess w
e could still ask him. He could be curious.”
I laughed and kissed his temple. “You go right ahead.”
Chuckling, he rested his head on my shoulder. We lay in silence for a while, just letting the dust settle and enjoying the delirious, semilethargic afterglow.
My eyelids started getting heavy. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. Almost ten, I think.”
“Damn it. Already? I have to work early tomorrow.” I scowled. “I should go.”
“Do you want to?”
I gazed at him, drinking in the sight of that beautiful, sweaty, naked man, and . . . did I really want to leave? “No. I don’t.”
He ran featherlight fingertips down the center of my chest, and when my abs contracted beneath his touch, he whispered, “Then don’t.”
So I didn’t.
Chapter 7
“Somebody had a good time last night.”
I lowered my coffee cup and eyed Anna as she buckled her seat belt. “Hmm? What?”
She smirked. “Oh, come on. I can read you like a book. The only time you’re that bleary-eyed on a weekday is when you’ve gotten laid.”
I blinked, pretending to be oblivious to the sleepy dryness in my eyes and the heavy fatigue tugging at my aching muscles, all the way down to the foot currently holding the brake pedal in place. “How . . . Okay, how do you know when I’ve gotten laid?”
“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “I can tell, Jeremy. And you did say you were going on a date last night.”
“So you automatically assume that I put out on the first—”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Fair enough.” I put my coffee in the cupholder.
She grinned, raising her own cup in a playful toast. “So. How was he?”
“Anna!”
“Oh give me a break.” She took a deep swallow. “I’m in relationship hell, so let me live vicariously through you even if there’s, like, dudes involved.”
I snorted. “We can’t all have good taste.”
“That’s what she—”
“Shut up.” I chuckled. “And for the record, it’s not a relationship. We just—”
