Covington, Cara - Love Under Two Strong Men [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  Two strong men meeting on even ground, on equal terms.

  “I haven’t even kissed you yet.” Peter reached out and touched Jordan. It seemed as if the heat from Jordan’s body seared his palm, then rushed into his bloodstream. A light stroke of his hand across Jordan’s shoulder turned into a longer, trembling caress down his chest, across his pecs. Thrilling, this first touch of the man who would in moments become his lover.

  Even more thrilling, Jordan’s caress of his chest tripped his heart and hardened his cock.

  “So kiss me.”

  Peter didn’t know which of them moved first. He only knew incredible bliss as his lips brushed Jordan’s, as that man’s flavor drenched his tongue. Lips on lips, tongues mating in a slow and sensuously erotic dance, Peter let go the waiting and plunged deep into the having.

  His arms enveloped Jordan even as he felt himself enveloped, held him close as he himself was held close.

  Hot and heavenly, wet and wild, Jordan’s taste filled him, humbled him, and made him burn with a deeper desire than he’d ever known.

  Their lips parted. Forehead resting against forehead, they both fought for breath.

  “First time isn’t going to be nice and slow.” Jordan stroked his hands up and down Peter’s back, pressing the ridge of his cock against his own.

  One kiss, one clench, and Peter didn’t know if he could control the need surging within him.

  “No,” Peter agreed. “Not slow.”

  Another time he’d take great care to slowly strip the clothes from his lover’s body, to kiss every inch of exposed flesh. Tonight, though, this first time, need evolved into desperation in a heartbeat, clamoring to be fed.

  They inched away from each other only far enough to have room to strip. In less than a sigh they reached for each other again and groaned as naked flesh met naked flesh, as skin kissed skin, the slide and brush and friction a hot flame to the kindling of their passion.

  Lips locked and Peter shivered as the sweet torment of lust grew. So many sensations rushed him at once. The hot, wet essence of Jordan’s mouth, his eager tongue dueling and dipping vied with the glorious feeling of Jordan’s naked cock, hot and stiff, rubbing against his own.

  “Now. I need your mouth on…ah.” Jordan’s sentence ended on a sigh when Peter fisted his cock. Peter caressed him with a firm, rhythmic stroke and felt his own enveloped and pumped in turn. Peter knew what Jordan needed, because it was what he needed, too.

  “On the bed, sweetheart. Together.” How had he ever believed this first time could be slow? He’d sensed this would happen, that their passion for each other would ignite the instant they touched.

  The bed caught them, cradling them while hands swept and petted and grasped. Fingers touched and teased, swirling, dipping, and then surrounding.

  Heat enveloped him. Peter felt it enter his soul, filling and completing and warming all those parts of him that had been cold and empty for so very long. He stretched up and laid his mouth on Jordan’s, a fast, deep kiss of joy and celebration.

  Then he worked his way down Jordan’s deliciously sexy body, using his lips and tongue to sip and savor his lover’s flavor. He charted a path of pleasure down his body, nuzzling his face in the light dusting of hair that covered Jordan’s chest. He breathed him in, willing his lover’s essence to become his essence.

  “We’re both shaking.” Peter looked up and met Jordan’s gaze. “We’re both trembling for each other.”

  “Are you surprised? I knew the first moment I laid eyes on you that this would happen.”

  Peter recalled the first time their gazes locked across the expanse of the dining room at the IHOP a few miles from Lusty, Texas. He didn’t know he could have a moment like that, a kind of cosmic righting of his world. And actually, in recent times, he’d had two of them. He smiled at his soon-to-be lover. “I’m not surprised, no. I am grateful.”

  “Peter. Now, please.”

  Peter laid a hand on Jordan’s stomach just above his cock, a signal for his lover to stay exactly as he was, sprawled out on the bed. Peter moved, turned himself around so that together they formed the classic sixty-nine position, and without waiting another moment sucked Jordan’s cock into his mouth. Jordan managed to turn onto his side, and then the heat and moisture of Jordan’s mouth returned the favor.

  Peter shivered as lust and arousal raced through him. He sucked Jordan deep, using his tongue to caress his shaft and the cavern of his mouth to draw on his cock. The salty tang of pre-cum awakened his taste buds, feeding a need in him bred through the bone, to the very core of what made him.

  The taste of cock, the feel of it in his hand, these things had always been a turn-on for him, as much of a turn-on as he got setting his mouth on hot pussy. He’d had more than one male lover in his life, and more than one female. Enough to recognize the difference in his reactions to and feelings for the two people he’d met in Lusty.

  Jordan was the first person—the first man—he’d actually fallen in love with. The difference lifted him, excited him, and thrilled him. Passion and tenderness wove together, one loving thread that not only connected them but that made everything between them somehow better, and more.

  The play of Jordan’s hand against his thigh, then up across his hip to his ass made Peter’s entire body clench. Unable to resist the urge, he thrust his hips forward. Jordan’s groan around his cock told Peter his lover appreciated the dominant gesture.

  Peter sucked, swirling his tongue up and down the shaft of Jordan’s cock, and felt his actions returned to him. He, too, reached out to stroke the flesh of thigh and hip. His hand caressed the naked globe of Jordan’s ass, the skin soft, the muscle beneath firm and enticing.

  Feeling his arousal begin to climb toward eruption, Peter thrust his hips again, small fucking motions that were nearly all reflex. He needed to taste Jordan’s seed as he came, needed that more than he needed his next breath.

  So close now, Peter let his fingers trace the crack of Jordan’s ass, pushing between the cheeks until he felt the pucker of Jordan’s anus kiss his finger.

  Jordan shivered and drew heavily on Peter’s cock, sucking the seed right out of him. As Peter’s climax exploded, he pressed one long finger against Jordan’s rosette, sinking in deep.

  Spurt after spurt of his lover’s juice erupted into his mouth, and Peter drank with total abandon.

  * * * *

  Jordan came awake as he sometimes did, completely alert, fully rested. A strip of clear window between the bedroom curtains let him know the sun hadn’t yet risen. A very slight motion beside him drew his attention.

  “You’re getting up?”

  “Yeah. Didn’t mean to wake you.” Peter turned from his side to his back.

  Jordan turned to face him, raising himself up on one arm. He used his free hand to stroke Peter’s chest.

  “I’m glad to be awake. I didn’t want you to just leave me sleeping here. How soon do you have to go?”

  “I have to be at work at three.”

  Jordan frowned. Federal agents meeting at three could mean only one thing. Peter was about to participate in a predawn raid somewhere in a city that had grown more dangerous in the last twenty years. The Dallas of today didn’t bear much resemblance to the Dallas of his youth.

  He knew Peter sensed his worry. The last thing he wanted was to send his lover off into a dangerous situation with one more concern on his plate. Jordan’s problem with Peter’s career really was Jordan’s problem. He knew that.

  “So is there time for shower games, first?”

  Peter chuckled. “A shower, period. I’m afraid the bathroom here is rather small. I don’t know how much room there is to actually play, but I’m game if you are.”

  Jordan grinned. “If we can’t play safely, I’ll take what I can get. Tonight, why don’t we go to my place? We have Kendall-sized beds and bathrooms.”

  “Kendall-sized?”

  “Mmm.” Jordan had become distracted by the sensation of Peter’
s hand stroking down his chest and finding his cock. His hand caressed it lightly before heading back up to his chest. “Big enough for four or more.”

  “A hedonist’s delight,” Peter said. He seemed inordinately fascinated with the way his fingers combed through Jordan’s chest hair.

  Jordan’s cock had surged to life and now stood proud and hard and hungry. The heat from his lover’s body warmed him. The scent of his lover’s body pulsed through him, sending his arousal even higher.

  “No, you’re a hedonist’s delight.” Jordan leaned down and kissed him, his lips hard and urgent, his tongue bold as it tasted him. “Let me show you.”

  “I don’t have a lot of time.” Peter’s breathing hitched, and his eyes glittered with excitement.

  Jordan realized he wasn’t the only one who appreciated the occasional Dom-play.

  “I’m so triggered right now that it won’t take long. I need to fuck you.”

  “Good, because I need to feel your cock inside me.”

  Jordan wasted no time. He moved, raising himself up, using his hands to help Peter turn over and get on his knees.

  The sweet button of Peter’s anus beckoned, and Jordan bent over him, using his tongue to stroke and moisten. Peter’s gasp, curse, and then groan, accompanied by a solid thrust of his ass toward Jordan, made for a wonderful reward. Blindly, unwilling to take himself away from this particular delight, he reached toward the bedside table, and the condoms and lube waiting there.

  Jordan pressed in with his tongue at the same time his fingers tore open the foil pack.

  “Oh, God, that feels so fucking good.”

  “Baby, your ass really wants my cock. It’s opening like a perfect little rosebud.” Jordan continued to use his tongue and lips to taste and tease. Peter’s hips pushed back rhythmically, a sure sign his lover’s fires had been lit.

  Jordan slid the condom into place in seconds. He took precious seconds to stroke a coating of lube on his latex-covered cock. He stroked his cock twice more as he straightened and closed in on Peter.

  “You’re wet and ready. I don’t think you need any more lube, do you? Do you want me to play with you some more?”

  “Damn it, Jordan, just fuck me!”

  Jordan grasped Peter’s ass cheeks, spread them, and touched his cock to the moistened pucker. Then he pressed forward, strong and sure, and sank into him balls deep on the first thrust.

  “Ahh, yes.”

  Peter’s groan of bliss echoed inside Jordan’s chest. Unable to stop himself, he pulled out nearly all the way then plunged home again.”

  “Oh, God. More. Damn it, I need—”

  Jordan gave him more, thrust after thrust that was hard and deep and fast. He’d never plundered a lover this way. He felt his need spiral out of control and pounded his cock into Peter. Reaching forward, he grasped Peter’s cock, pumping it in time with his thrusts.

  Sounds of greedy gorging filled the room. The smell of sex and musky man permeated the air. Jordan’s blood raced, his heart thundered, and he could only reach and reach and reach some more.

  He cried out as his orgasm shot out of him. The cock in his hand jerked, and Peter’s deep shout of satisfaction signaled his lover’s climax.

  They came together long and hard, collapsing together as rapture receded slowly, very slowly, to satiation.

  Jordan became aware of the man struggling for breath beneath him and the scent and feel of his sweat soaking his chest.

  “I didn’t hurt you?”

  “No. Fucking A.”

  Jordan chuckled because that was such a dated reaction.

  “You can play Dom next time and return the favor,” he invited. Lured by emotions rolling through him, he placed a kiss on Peter’s shoulder then carefully pulled his cock out of him.

  “That’s a deal.” Peter sighed then groaned as he raised himself to roll over and face Jordan.

  “Now it’ll have to be a very fast shower.”

  Jordan smiled. “You go ahead. I’ll make some coffee for us.”

  “You should go back to sleep, Jordan. Then I could wake you up later when I come home.”

  “I’ll go back to sleep when you do.” Jordan wasn’t going to tell him the complete truth although he suspected Peter would know it, regardless.

  “I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind, and wait for you. For now, let’s haul ass. I’ve got some work I can do on my laptop while you’re gone.”

  Peter’s expression told Jordan he didn’t have to explain, and that was fine. His problem, he’d have to find a way to deal with it. For now, he’d keep vigil until Peter got home. There was no way in hell Jordan could sleep while the man he loved was in the line of fire.

  Chapter 3

  The predawn chill reached out with sharp talons, piercing his jacket, even working through his flack vest, giving Peter a shiver that felt bone-deep. Crouched beside a half-broken brick wall, he waited, gun drawn, senses on alert.

  The small Bluetooth lodged in his ear kept him apprised of the progress of the operation. Men and women were still moving into place, reporting in, and waiting for the team leader and Peter’s boss, Mac Dwyer, to give the word.

  Peter kept his gaze trained on the rundown white-frame house that was the focus of this particular multiagency operation. Inside, no light shone and no sound resonated. By all appearances the residents of the small building in this worn-out south Dallas neighborhood were sound asleep.

  Peter, along with every member of this task force, knew that appearances could be, and sometimes were, deceiving.

  “Team five, in place.” The message whispered in Peter’s ear. Team five was the last of them. Teams one and five were assigned to the front and back doors, respectively. Teams two through four had the responsibility of surrounding the house, covering the windows.

  Once entrance had been gained, the bulk of the team chosen for this operation—the men and women of the Dallas PD—would come from across the street, make arrests, and begin to transport suspects to various holding facilities across the city.

  No one knew how many people, exactly, occupied that house. No one knew how many weapons they might encounter.

  Involved in this morning’s adventure were more than twenty DEA agents, as well as a number of Dallas PD officers, state cops, and even two special agents on loan from ICE—Immigration and Customs Enforcement.

  Since the communication disasters between all the agencies of the previous decade, the feds were all just one big happy family now.

  Or so the Department of Justice would have us all believe.

  “All teams, stand by.” Mac turned to Peter. “We’ll get a little closer, now.” He looked from Peter, to the other two agents accompanying them, Marilyn Porter and Emilio McPhee.

  Peter nodded his readiness as did the others. They were team one.

  Inhaling deeply, he narrowed his focus and felt his cop instincts come together until they formed a presence within him that was nearly palpable. A stray image penetrated that shield of attention, the picture of Jordan as he’d left him, opening his laptop at the kitchen table, getting ready, not really to work, Peter knew, but to hunker down and wait for his safe return.

  Cops’ spouses have the lousiest job of all.

  Peter fought back his smile. That wasn’t the first time he’d thought of Jordan in those terms, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. But he needed now to bring all his attention to the job. He’d promised Jordan he’d be back soon, with the unspoken codicil that he’d be back whole and uninjured.

  He didn’t want to break his promise to his lover.

  Beside him, he heard Mac inhale deeply before saying, “Let’s go.”

  Peter kept low to the ground as he sprinted toward the northwest corner of the house. Littered with refuse and broken bottles, the yard proved one of the more challenging obstacle courses he’d run in recent memory. Low, fast, and quiet added delicate into its mix. Unlike the images flashed on television crime dramas, tonight’s slate of feds not o
nly sported navy-blue Windbreakers with their agency name blazoned in yellow, they wore hiking boots instead of wing tips or discreet pumps.

  Inner-city neighborhoods were a jungle with their own unique characteristics, and modern cops learned to adapt.

  Peter worked to control his breathing and steady his nerves. All his senses focused now on the house, on the unknown waiting just on the other side of the door. Truth to tell, most raids came off without a hitch, and without a single shot being fired.

  Most, but not all. Agent preparedness was one ingredient of that success. Total and complete surprise in the execution of the ops was the other.

  Go in hot, together, fan out, surround, locate and neutralize. Every situation was unique, but every situation had common elements.

  “On two.”

  Beside him and in his earpiece, Mac’s calm and steady voice announced the beginning of the countdown. Peter was as ready as he was ever going to be.

  “One. Two.”

  Emilio, on the left of the door, pivoted forward and kicked the semirotten wood in. A similar noise exploded from the back of the building. Crouched, flashlight held crossways over his Sig Sauer P228, Peter stormed into the house.

  “Federal agents! Freeze! On the floor, on the floor, now!”

  The scene exploded from dead silence to screaming chaos in seconds. Agents and cops streamed into the small building, each one shouting, rousing the occupants who came up swinging and swearing. Agents tossed the found-ins toward the filthy carpet, holding them at gunpoint, holding them down, waiting.

  Lights came on, both literally and figuratively as the people inside the crack house came to groggy wakefulness, some naked, the rest nearly so. The stench of dirty bodies, stale beer, and opiates fouled the air. What little furniture the flophouse held looked beyond worn, and Peter didn’t want to think about what some of the stains on the several bare mattresses scattered about might be.

  He held two male suspects at gunpoint until he was relieved by two uniformed officers of the Dallas PD. Mac had located the so-called tenant of the home, Mickey Silas, and served him with the local, state, and federal warrants the task force had obtained.