by Lynn Lorenz
And since when did he see into men’s souls? Huh? Never, that was when. This was crazy. He was lonely and bored, and…
He’d just been fucked by a man he’d surrendered to completely.
He’d just had the best sex of his life.
He’d just told Bobby he’d be there in the morning.
Bobby slid his hand down over Mark’s hip, found his semi-erect cock, and gave it a slow stroke.
Mark groaned.
Okay, maybe sooner than morning.
Chapter Three
Mark lay under the big man, catching his breath. He enjoyed the way Bobby’s weight on his back felt solid, the warmth of his body giving heat to Mark’s.
Morning light filtered through the crack in the drawn drapes, and they’d just gone for the fourth time. Damn, Bobby was relentless, and Mark’s ass paid a delicious price for it. He would feel Bobby’s cock inside him for a long time, maybe all day if he was lucky.
Bobby rolled off with a groan. “You’re going to kill me, I swear.” But it wasn’t a real complaint. Mark heard the satisfied tone, the little snort that softened the words.
“Hey, I’m the one with the sore ass,” Mark reminded him.
Bobby leaned up and looked into his eyes. “Did I hurt you?” Real concern sat in their blue depths.
Mark grinned. “Hell, no. If you had, I would have told you.” He brushed a hand over Bobby’s cheek. “It’s all good.”
Bobby grinned. “Good.” They stared into each other’s eyes for long moments. Then Bobby cleared his throat. “Hungry? I’m starved. How about I order up room service?”
“Yeah, I could eat.” Mark nodded, and his tummy rumbled right on cue.
Well, so much for leaving first thing. After breakfast, then. He’d eat, give his thanks for a great time, a quick kiss, and out the door.
Bobby sat on the edge of the bed, the sheet pooling around his waist. He picked up the hotel book, thumbed through it, found the room service menu, and plopped it on the bed between them. “What do you want?”
They ordered. Bobby hung up and turned to Mark. “You want the shower first?”
“Not together?” Mark grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.
“If we get in there together, you’re not going to be able to walk, you know.”
“I know. You go first.” Mark lay back on the pillows, tucking his arms behind his head.
Bobby nodded, went to the bathroom, and closed the door. The shower came on, and Mark exhaled.
Okay. What was he still doing there? Eating breakfast, sure. But he had to admit to himself, he was in no hurry to leave the comfort of Bobby’s bed. However, Bobby probably wanted him out after they ate, and he steeled himself for it.
The shower cut off. A few minutes later, Bobby reemerged, damp and clean, with a towel wrapped around his waist. “Your turn.”
Mark got out of bed and padded to the bathroom. He started the shower, got in, and washed the dried cum and sweat from his body, paying careful attention to his sore ass. Then he dried off and used a washcloth to clean his teeth as best as he could. Shaving would have to wait.
Bobby had laid out his clothes on the end of the bed.
“Thanks.” Mark picked up his briefs and slid them on, then pulled on his jeans.
Bobby wore jeans and a T-shirt but was barefoot, and damn if he didn’t look as fine in the morning as he had at night. He gave Mark a hungry grin, and Mark’s belly did a little flip.
A knock at the door signaled their food had arrived.
Bobby got the door. “Put it on the table,” he told the bellhop.
Mark pulled out one of the chairs and sat. Bobby tipped the waiter and let him out, then came back. “Smells good.”
They lifted the silver covers, shuffled plates around, and Mark smiled at Bobby. Steaming coffee in a carafe helped to wake them up, along with a small bottle of hot sauce to splash onto their eggs. The men ate, diving into the eggs, hash browns, bacon, and buttered toast. At last, they’d finished the meal, and Bobby folded his napkin on his plate.
“Good eats.” Bobby grinned at Mark.
“Not bad for hotel room service.”
The clock on the nightstand said eight forty-five, and Mark wondered if Bobby had any place he needed to be.
Bobby’s eyes glittered as he gazed at Mark. They heated, and Mark swallowed down his arousal. The man could get him hard with just a look, making him want to turn belly up, like a dog to be petted by his master.
“You got plans today?” Bobby asked. He ran his finger around the rim of his coffee cup.
This was where Mark should say, Yes, I do.
“No, nothing important.” Mark shrugged. “Why?”
“There’s a little church festival I wanted to check out. Want to come along?” Bobby reached across the table and put his hand over Mark’s hand. “But if you’re ready to go, that’s okay.”
Mark looked up. “Will there be music?”
“It’s a Cajun festival. Of course!” Bobby laughed. “And food. Don’t forget the food.”
Mark grinned. This man could talk him into just about anything. “Sure. Sounds like fun.”
“Hey, I’m wearing fresh clothes, but you’re in the clothes from last night.”
Mark grinned. “I’ve got a fresh set in my car. It’s down in the parking lot.”
Bobby frowned. “You always bring a change of clothes?”
“Sometimes. You never know what might come up.” Mark leaned over and squeezed Bobby’s crotch. The man’s cock came to life under his hand. Damn.
“I know what’s coming up right now.” Bobby leaned in, ran his fingers through Mark’s hair, then tightened his grip and drew Mark’s mouth to his for a scorching kiss.
Mark moaned, opening up to Bobby’s searching tongue. His jeans grew incredibly tight, and he shifted to give himself more room.
Bobby broke the kiss. “Go get your clothes and get back up here.”
Mark laughed. “Yes, sir!” He saluted, slipped on his shoes, and headed to the door. “It should take me about fifteen to twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be here.” Bobby sat back on the bed, picked up the remote for the television, and turned it on.
Mark closed the door behind him, took note of the room number, and headed for the elevator. He must have been out of his mind, agreeing to go to the festival with Bobby, but he couldn’t deny the thrill of excitement making his skin tingle and his spirits lift.
He’d been lonely before and now… Well, who knew?
∙•∙
Bobby scrolled through the channels and finally settled on a show about guns and hunting. That was something he could get into. He stuffed some pillows behind his back and watched.
Twenty minutes had gone by before worry shot a cannonball across his bow. Where the hell was Mark? He should have been back by now. Bobby groaned and ran his hand over his face. Maybe he decided Bobby was too needy.
He’d made a big mistake, asking Mark to go to the festival with him, but he hadn’t wanted their time together to end. Not yet. And he’d thought Mark hadn’t either.
He switched off the show and sat on the side of the bed as a ball of fire roiled in his belly. He’d been so fucking stupid. What did he think would happen between them?
This was just supposed to be a casual fuck. Thinking and hoping weren’t allowed, just like last names and personal info.
He scrubbed his hands in his hair and exhaled.
The festival started at ten o’clock. He had plenty of time to drive there and still make a day of it. He went to the table and put the dishes back on the tray, just to kill time.
Mark wasn’t coming back. Bet Mark was laughing at him right now.
Served him right for trying to make more of this than it was.
»»•««
Mark slammed the trunk of his car, tossed the strap of the small sports bag over his shoulder, and headed back to the hotel’s entrance. He strode past the front desk and made his way to the same bank of ele
vators he’d used.
“Excuse me, sir.” A man in a suit, with the hotel’s badge pinned to his chest, approached him. “Are you checking in?”
Mark grinned. “No. I’m joining a friend.”
“Is he a guest?”
“Yes, he is.” Mark pushed the elevator call button.
“I’m afraid he’ll have to register you on his room if you’re going to stay with him.”
Mark frowned. “I’m just changing clothes. I’m only here for the day.”
“Were you here last night?”
The bell dinged, and the doors opened. Mark stared at the empty car, then exhaled.
“Yes, I was.”
“Let’s go over here, and I’ll call his room, and he can come down.” The man pointed to the front desk. His expression told Mark he didn’t think much of Mark or his overnight stay.
“Really? Is all this necessary?” Mark didn’t like the way the guy was looking at him, and this all seemed very familiar. Then it hit him, and he burst out laughing.
The man froze, eyebrows rising to nearly his hairline. “What’s so funny?”
“This is so Pretty Woman!” Mark chuckled at the blank look on the man’s face. “Haven’t you seen it? The hotel guy won’t let Julia Roberts up in the elevator because he knows she’s a hooker.”
“Are you a hooker?” The guy had a rod up his ass, for sure.
»»•««
Bobby stomped into his cowboy boots, checked his hair in the mirror, and turned off the lights. He still planned on going to the festival to check it out. That’s what part of this trip was all about—aside from getting laid.
He’d pulled the short straw this year and had been named chairman of the Rugarou Festival in St. Jerome. He’d been told this little festival here in Lake Charles was one of the best around South Louisiana, and he wanted to see what made it so great and try to duplicate it if he could. Having a great festival meant bringing in a lot of money for their community, the church, and for the Rougaroux Social Club, the main sponsor. The club was the cover for his werewolf pack, and as former alpha, he had strong ties to it.
Bobby checked his watch. Almost thirty-five minutes since Mark had left. Just before Bobby closed the door behind him, he glanced at the phone to see if there were any messages.
No blinking red light.
»»•««
“No. Just an easy pickup.” Mark winked at him. “Look, I’m going to see my friend.” He turned to leave.
“I’ll call security if you take one more step!”
“Seriously?” Mark sobered. “Look. Just go ahead and call him. His name is Bobby, and he’s in room 1223.”
The man stepped behind the desk and tapped on a keyboard. Then he picked up the phone and dialed.
Mark leaned on the desk, thinking how this could get any worse. Bobby was going to be pissed. Mark had practically outed him to the hotel staff, and he was pretty sure Bobby hadn’t planned on that.
“No answer.” He hung up the phone, looking at Mark as if he’d just won a prize.
“He’s probably in the bathroom. What if you came upstairs with me, and we just knocked on the door?” Mark reached over the counter. “Let me call him. I need to at least leave a message.” The man twisted his mouth. He didn’t like that, but he couldn’t refuse. Mark dialed the room and listened to it ring. No answer. It rolled to voice mail.
“Hey, it’s Mark. I’m down in the lobby. They won’t let me up. I’ll wait here for you.” Then he hung up and shrugged.
As he turned to scout a place to sit and watch the elevators, one of them dinged and disgorged several people. Standing a head taller than everyone else, Bobby strode out.
“Bobby!” Mark waved and trotted over to him.
The look on Bobby’s face was pure surprise. Then it morphed into one of pure happiness, and Mark’s heart fluttered.
“Where’ve you been?” Bobby looked him up and down.
Mark jerked his head at the front desk and lowered his voice so no one could overhear them. “That guy over there spotted me and wouldn’t let me up. He thinks you’re sneaking me in.”
Bobby grunted, then strode over to the desk. “I need a second room key for my friend. He’s joining me.” Bobby pulled out his wallet and flashed his ID at the clerk.
“Does your friend have a name?” The man asked, his fingers poised over the keyboard, clearly unhappy.
“Yeah. Mark Smith.” Bobby practically growled at the man as he towered over him, and it had a very pronounced effect. The man took a step back.
“Do you want to switch to two queen beds?”
Mark wanted to knock the smirk off the dude’s face.
“No. The king is fine.” Bobby’s tone of voice and expression gave nothing away. If the hotel clerk had wanted to rile Bobby up, he’d failed.
“Of course, sir.” He fiddled with something, then handed Bobby the extra room key card. Bobby handed it to Mark. “Here you go. No more problems.”
Mark looked at the card. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know he’d be staying any longer than going to the festival.
“Are you sure?” Mark whispered as they walked to the elevators so Mark could go upstairs to change.
“If you want to spend tonight with me, I’m sure. If you don’t, you can just go on and go. Whatever you want.” Bobby shot Mark a sideways glance.
Mark licked his lips. “Can we see how today goes?”
“Sure. No pressure.”
“No pressure.” So how come Mark’s heart beat faster, knowing Bobby wanted him to spend the night with him again?
Chapter Four
Bobby had a blast at the festival. He hadn’t had so much fun in ages. He and Mark shared food, from a bowl of spicy seafood gumbo filled with okra and seasoned with filé, to savory crawfish pies and turtle sauce piquant. Both of them were so stuffed they were almost incapable of walking.
Late in the afternoon, they sat side by side in folding metal chairs at a long table under a tent, listening as one of the many bands played familiar Cajun songs. Bobby tapped his toes along with the music, but that was all he could manage to move. They’d already danced to a few of the bands in the large playground area behind the small church that hosted the festival.
Bobby had been in such a good mood he succumbed to the music first. He’d asked a few of the older ladies to dance, and before he knew it, Mark had joined him, waltzing his own lady partner around the concrete basketball court to the tune of “Jolie Blonde.”
Of course, they couldn’t dance together, but they still had fun. Every time they passed each other, their gazes connected, and something shot between them, making Bobby’s wolf whimper. Then they’d break apart and twirl their partners around the makeshift dance floor again, and Bobby would have some time to regain control.
And when the music picked up and the band was rocking, a contest of sorts started between the two men to see which one could out-dance the other. Bobby pulled out all the stops, swing dancing to the zydeco music, spinning his partner under his arm, around his back, then pulling her back into some tight pivots.
When they finally stopped, they had laughed all the way back to their seats. Despite not really dancing with each other, it sort of felt like they had. Mark admitted Bobby had won that contest, and Bobby had winked at him and told him, “Old dogs always keep a few tricks up their sleeves, and a good Cajun knows how to tear up a dance floor.”
Now they sipped sweet ice tea—no alcohol at the church festival—and Bobby made mental notes about what he’d seen and experienced. He’d decided he was just too old to try out the rides at the fair, but he and Mark walked through it, and he couldn’t help but notice how much fun the riders were having and on which rides.
He knew already the food had to be top notch. And the entertainment. Having several bands throughout the day kept the party atmosphere lively, and he noticed there were people who kept the dancing going. He’d have to make sure he could find folks to do that.
The Rugarou Festival was a big responsibility, and he planned on it being the best one ever. Well, if it was up to him. Unfortunately, telling Mark about his plans was out of the question, and he really wished he could have talked them over with the younger man. But the hookup pact had been made—no personal info. He didn’t even know Mark’s last name. The one Bobby’d given at the front desk, Smith, was an obvious fake, made up on the spot.
With only four months before the festival, he had to get all his ducks in a row soon. The last chairman had given him all his notes, and Bobby had taken over the e-mail account for the festival. His job was to organize the entertainment, the food, and the actual rugarou contest—where people dressed up as a rugarou, the legendary swamp werewolf, for a cash prize. And there were raffles and prizes to gather, but he had committees to do most of that work.
He’d learned how to delegate during his time as sheriff of St. Jerome, and it wasn’t something he’d forgotten. Not by a long shot. He knew when he tackled a project as large as a festival, having people you trusted to get the job done was vitally important.
Mark sighed. “I don’t think I can make it to the car.”
“I hear you. Too much food and too much dancing. My feet are killing me.”
“I wish you could just throw me over your shoulder and carry me out of here.” Mark chuckled. “Wouldn’t that raise a few eyebrows?”
“Sure would.” Bobby swallowed and leaned closer so no one heard. “But the idea of you over my shoulder, with your ass in the air, gets me hard.”
Mark moaned. “The thought of you hard…” He let that hang in the air.
Bobby pushed away from the table and stood. “Come on. We need to get back to the hotel.”
“Right.” Mark slapped the table, rose, and followed Bobby through the crowd to the exit.
They found Bobby’s truck in the auxiliary parking lot—a large grassy area—got in, and Bobby started it up. Mark put his hand on Bobby’s thigh, and Bobby liked the way it felt, the weight of it.
