Sweet Summer Sweat

by Clare London

  Sweet Summer Sweat

  Copyright ©2016 Clare London

  First Edition

  Cover design by L. C. Chase

  Published by Jocular Press

  All Rights Reserved

  This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee. Such action is illegal and in violation of Copyright Law.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  All trademarks are the property of their respective owners.

  Dedication

  To Sue, Lillian, and RJ for their help – and to the hot summer!

  When you find a place where lust and sex rule life, and your every desire can be fulfilled, why would you ever want to leave?

  Young runaway Scot and his boyfriend Jerry escape their deadbeat homes and families, hoping to leave prejudice behind them and travel to a new life in Las Vegas. Unprepared and naive, they're lost almost at once, and shelter at a run-down, deserted motel in the middle of the scorching hot Nevada desert. A place with secrets, run by staff both gorgeous and uninhibited, and driven by a mysterious sexual connection Scot’s never even dared to dream.

  All but drugged by the lazy heat and the hedonism around him, Scot watches as Jerry is seduced away and realizes their relationship was nothing more than shared lust. Restless, Scot knows he wants true love and real understanding. Could he find it with the mysterious and elusive owner of the motel, Connor Maxwell? Connor seems to think so, every time he appears and pursues Scot for his own. But where does Connor come from? It seems the passion calls him into being at its own whim.

  Eventually, what binds Connor and his friends to the motel may be too strong for Scot to break through. Scot has ambitions to travel, to make something of his life – but is his only option to embrace life at the motel in his true lover’s arms?

  Or will that love be strong enough to release them both …

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  The temperature had climbed higher than ever. Inside the small, shabby car the summer heat was intolerable. The air conditioning wheezed and coughed, but provided very little relief at all. A haze of hot air regularly blew back from the engine, stifling both driver and passenger.

  Cramped in the battered passenger seat, Scot Salvatore sucked in a breath, trying to hold back his irritation.

  They hadn’t taken this hire car as a matter of choice, of course—they’d been offered what was left in the back street showroom. Fuck it, their money hadn’t stretched to anything else. And obviously this one had been left as a special treat for them, for idiots who imagined it’d be useful for something other than housing chickens. It shuddered over the rough track of the Nevada desert, spat venom out of the exhaust and, every fifteen minutes, threatened to grind to a stop and leave them wherever it damned well chose. It wasn’t hard to imagine it as a living, malevolent being.

  “There’s nothing marked for miles,” he muttered, twisting the scruffy map around in his hands. “We left that last stop hours ago, and this should be a direct route to Las Vegas. Where did you say we had to take that left turning?”

  “Fuck knows,” Jerry Harrison snapped. A trail of sweat trickled from under his long, chestnut fringe, limp on his forehead from the heat. “We’ve got to stop soon, I’m exhausted. This fucking track is so rough, it’s like driving through treacle. My head feels like a lead weight, and I’m damned if I can focus properly in this glare.”

  Scot bit his lip, trying not to snap back. “We mustn’t give up now, Jerry. It’s almost dusk, the temperature’s bound to go down then. And we’ll find a motel or something to stay the night. We’ve got enough money left for that, right?”

  Jerry shook his head and tsk-ed with frustration. Flakes of the cheap vinyl steering wheel cover had peeled away, sticking to his hands. “So damned hot.”

  Scot peered out into the hazy distance to find some landmark or other. The horizon jumped up and down as they rattled over the uneven ground. “Are we lost?”

  Jerry didn’t grace him with a reply.

  Scot sighed to himself. Of course they were fucking lost. Neither of them had ever been this far out of their home town; never imagined this part of the desert highway even existed. The last place they’d passed had held nothing but a couple of small, shack-lined streets, with definitely nowhere to settle for the night. And since then—nothing.

  If things had gone according to plan, they should have been on the road to Las Vegas: the road to their future. A rich city, a place to stay, a job for them both. A life for them both. There’d been a lot of high expectations from this journey: things they’d promised themselves, things they’d hoped for, planned for…. but those things weren’t materializing any time soon, as far as Scot could tell. He was disappointed. No, more than that. Disillusioned, exhausted, and scared this had all been a hideous mistake.

  He couldn’t say that aloud, though. Jerry had found an escape from the hell they’d both been living, and he’d offered to share it with Scot. It would have been ungrateful to refuse, wouldn’t it? Jerry knew what he was doing. Scot shouldn’t doubt him.

  “Jerry?”

  “Just keep looking out for that left turning,” Jerry growled.

  Scot gazed through the windscreen again but the heat shimmer obscured his view, and he had to blink hard to keep his vision clear. His concentration was a valid excuse for keeping silent, and he was ashamed how glad he was of it. He wondered if Jerry was feeling the same.

  The next twenty miles were tedious: hot, sweaty, and filled with tight, unspoken tension. The light in the golden sky faded to a darker orange as the day slid toward evening. Dry wind teased at the windows, brushing past as the vehicle shuddered on. The temperature eased, but only a drop of one or two degrees. There was little beneficial effect inside.

  Scot brushed a bead of sweat out of his eyes and yawned loudly.

  Jerry glanced quickly over at him, shifting in his seat. “Scot—”

  “Look! Is that something up ahead?” Scot craned forward in his seat. The headlamps were another disappointment, a couple of thin, pale beams of light jerking up and down in line with their progress, giving precious little visibility in the encroaching dusk. As if sharing his curiosity, the car gave a particularly vicious hiccup, jerking him forward and nearly cracking his head on the windscreen. “Hey, careful!”

  “Like I have any control over this fucking vehicle.” Jerry peered ahead as well. “Is it a shack or something?”

  “Stop the car!” Scot almost shouted. “Let’s get our bearings. I think it’s more than a shack. Perhaps it’s a motel or something. The track branches off to it, there must have been traffic there already.” There was nothing on the map that he remembered, not on this road. But maybe he’d mis-read it. Maybe it had only just been built. Fuck, who cared?

  “This crock of shit may never start again,” Jerry warned. “We shouldn’t risk it.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Scot shook his head impatiently. “You’ve got it re-started a couple of times already, have
n’t you? You’ve really got a knack with machinery.”

  “I don’t know, that was just luck.” Jerry didn’t meet his eyes. “We can’t afford to get stranded. Did you see any proper signs? You told me you were good with the navigation.”

  Scot was so damned exhausted he let the criticism pass. “I reckon we could walk from here, Jerry. Looks like a motel, all right.”

  They both leaned forward again, staring at the shapes on the horizon ahead. Jerry tensed up, his knuckles whitening on the wheel. “Shit,” he whispered. “It is something.”

  Scot felt a mixture of excitement and relief. “It’s not big, but they must be able to put us up until tomorrow. God, I just want something to eat that isn’t a potato chip, and a cold drink, and a shower—”

  “And sleep,” Jerry interrupted, his voice eager. “Sleep, please. For hours.”

  “Thinking of bed?” Scot said mischievously. “I mean, we’ll be sharing a room, won’t we? You can come wash my back in that shower.”

  Jerry’s face flushed even more deeply than in the heat. “Just sleep,” he repeated, harshly.

  Scot felt as if he’d been slapped.

  The car shuddered to a halt. The noise around them dropped to nothing but the hiss of the overheating engine, and the whisper of sand and stones on the track.

  Jerry cursed, only half under his breath. “Scot. I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”

  “No problem.” Scot knew he didn’t sound sincere.

  Jerry reached out and grabbed Scot’s wrist. “I’m just so damned hot, so tired, but I shouldn’t take it out on you. I know you’re nervous about all this, making the first step—”

  “I’m fine. It’s fine, I said so.” Scot was feeling more and more uncomfortable. Jerry’s palm was damp but the touch of his skin made the goose bumps rise up on the back of Scot’s neck.

  “It’ll be good,” Jerry continued, his voice rising in volume. “I’ll make it good for us, didn’t I say so? It’s just this fucking car, and the heat, and my head aches so much it feels like ball bearings are shooting out of my forehead, and that’s before we reach anywhere—”

  “Let’s go see the place, then. Okay with you?”

  Jerry’s sigh was slow and pained. Scot had heard that sound plenty of times since they ran away. He turned away, staring back out of the window.

  Jerry twisted the key in the ignition viciously, and the car hiccupped into life again. “Amazing.” He shrugged, gave a tight laugh. “Guess you’re right, I am lucky with machinery.”

  Scot grunted in reply and hunched further down in his seat. The car lurched further on up the craggy track, wheezing with the effort and staggering toward the thin, low-lying shadow ahead. The building came fully into view as they approached, as if it were moving toward them, coming to greet them. One story high and without any noticeable illumination, it was set back a few hundred yards from the road. There was a bare front yard, the perimeter marked with a low wooden fence. A ragged sign hung crookedly on a post at one corner of the fence, a couple of its fastenings broken. Only a few letters were legible through the dust and grime: there was ‘M’, ‘A’ and ‘WELL’S’, with a half-worn cartoon drawing of a bed and a crossed knife and fork.

  Scot peered at it curiously. The rest had obviously faded over time. So much for his theory of a new development. A covered walkway sprawled out from the side of the main building, offering the promise of motel rooms beyond. The darkening evening and the fickle lights of the car made the shadows leap and stretch alongside the structures.

  “Heaven.” Scot gave a thin laugh.

  Jerry wrinkled his nose with disapproval. “Looks more like the other place, I’d say.”

  “Like all those horror movies.” Scot pressed his face against the window, trying to see more. “They all start with the deserted motel, right?” He laughed again, but it sounded nervous this time.

  Jerry pushed his foot down fiercely and squeezed an extra rev out of the engine. He drove the car through an open gap in the fence and into the front yard. When he braked, a small cloud of dust rose up around the wheels. The car hiccupped again and with an extra, final hiss of venom, the engine rattled to a complete and silent halt.

  There were no other vehicles there, and no movement from the motel building. The front door appeared to be open, but there was no light inside. Scot peeled himself out of the car, his clothes sticking to him and the back of his bare calves sore from friction with the worn car seat. His sleeve caught on a ragged metal edge of the door frame and ripped.

  “Fucking car!”

  Jerry winced. “Get a grip. We’re here now, aren’t we?”

  Scot frowned. Was Jerry the only one allowed to get angry? A coil of irritation flared in the pit of his stomach. It had been he, Scot, who’d spotted this place after all.

  He leaned back against his door, taking a deep breath. It was good to be outside again. The air was tight with heat, but without the suffocating tension there’d been inside the car. The wave of warmth rolled gently over his skin, mixing with the onset of a cooler evening.

  On the other side of the vehicle, Jerry flexed his fingers and cricked the bones in his neck. Then he turned and leaned his arms on top of the car, gazing over at Scot. “Hi, gorgeous.”

  “Don’t be stupid.” But Scot recognized Jerry’s conciliatory tone. Jerry’s face was streaked with sweat and some dirt and his hair was lank over his forehead, but Scot still found him fascinating. Maybe it was just because of what they’d shared—gripping onto each other in Jerry’s family toolshed, sharing lust and an excitement Scot had never shared with anyone, not before then. His gaze ran over Jerry’s dark, hooded eyes, and down to the lush mouth, currently twisted in a rueful smile. There was a shine of sweat under Jerry’s nose and lip, and the faint shade of stubble on his chin. Yes, he’d run his fingers all over that jaw, touching Jerry’s mouth, slipping his fingers in between Jerry’s lips…

  Scot’s mood softened. Jerry was the man he dreamed about, wasn’t he? The man who made his heart quicken, and his groin ache. He laughed inside at his lustful thoughts: there was a time and place for them, and it damn well wasn’t now.

  Jerry just grinned back at him. “You look good, though, you know that?”

  Scot turned his head away, but he knew he blushed. He wasn’t used to such talk. “Like, sweat’s a good look on me?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jerry watching him. Scot rarely looked at himself in the mirror—he didn’t see the point, he was as he was—but he knew what Jerry would see right now, and he didn’t understand how it could possibly be described as looking good. Thick, black, scrappy locks of his hair clung to his forehead like they were pasted there. A dark patch of sweat had spread over the front of his thin vest; the muscles of his upper arms shone with it. What’s more, he knew Jerry looked much the same. With a sudden, vivid rush of emotion, Scot remembered the first day they met and talked—the excitement of their first intimate touch. He remembered why they were here, and why they’d been traveling in the first place, and his body shivered with instinctive delight.

  Yeah. The time and place for lust would come again.

  “Scot.” Jerry pushed his slim frame away from the car and walked around the trunk to stand beside him. He put his hand on Scot’s shoulder, stroked at the damp skin. “You feel good, too.”

  Scot looked up. Even his lashes were damp with sweat. He lifted his arm and pushed away the hair on his forehead, knowing it’d flop back as soon as he dropped his hand. A thin trickle of moisture ran up from his wrist to his elbow.

  Jerry sucked in a sharp breath.

  He was a couple of inches taller than Scot. When he gazed at Scot, it was like he looked down. Often it was a fond look, but sometimes Scot felt their positions were more than physical. Jerry was always in charge. He’d organized the whole of this trip, their flight as he’d called it. When they should leave, what direction they’d go, how they should cover their tracks, what they should take with the
m. Yeah, Jerry had always called the shots.

  But Scot had always accepted that, hadn’t he? He’d never have had the courage to break free on his own. And Jerry was… irresistible. Scot felt the buzz of desire in his groin, stirring lazily in the heat. “And you smell hot.” He laughed softly, to show he meant it both ways.

  “Yeah, right.” Jerry’s answering laugh was rich in the quiet, humid air. “Perhaps I’ll smell better after that shower you’re offering.” His eyes lingered on Scot’s mouth, and his fingers brushed lightly against Scot’s hip.

  “Jerry….”

  “Uh-huh?”

  Scot shook his head impatiently, struggling with his words. “I… I want things to be good, just the same as you do. They will be, won’t they?”

  “They will be.” Jerry reassured him quickly. “How many times have I told you that, since we left that fucking hick town behind us?” He leaned gently against Scot, the cotton of his damp shirt creased along the line of his muscles. He dipped his mouth down to Scot’s.

  Something moved at the corner of Scot’s vision, dark and fleeting. Swiftly, he turned his head away so Jerry’s lips brushed the edge of his ear instead. “Not here. Don’t touch me out here.”

  Jerry stilled. He straightened up, slowly. “Why not? It’s nearly dark, no one can see us.” His breath hitched, and his next words were tight, anger coloring his tone. “Isn’t that why we ran in the first place? Are you having second thoughts or something?”

  “No, of course not,” Scot snapped back. It was rare for him to answer back so sharply. “I didn’t mean that. I’m just—”

  “Okay. Hush.” Jerry shook his head like he thought Scot was being skittish. “We’ll take it slow, right? Just a kiss, just that. Don’t I deserve that, for negotiating our intrepid trek across the desert sandstorms?”

  Scot smiled then. Smiled at the pathetic joke, at Jerry’s plaintive need. Smiled at the thought of the slender, smooth body that was hopefully going to lie beside him tonight. It’d be the first time they’d ever done that—shared a night together, shared a bed. Shared comfort rather than fear and urgent desperation. Scot didn’t have any other experience to measure this by, but wasn’t that what he deserved?