by Gem Frost
His lips, on the other hand, feel soft, and almost… hesitant. It’s odd, I think hazily, but he seems almost awkward. Rusty. Sort of like he hasn’t kissed anyone for a long, long while.
But I’m not here for a gentle, tender tryst. This is supposed to be meaningless and empty, damn it, and so far, it’s failing to live up to those expectations. It feels alarmingly meaningful, and I can’t have that.
I part my lips, bury my hands in his thick black hair, and let my tongue meet his, mating with it in a slow dance that rapidly grows faster and more intense. Carnal. Heat swirls through me, flames licking at my body in places where nothing has licked for way too long.
A soft groan rumbles from Nick’s throat, and at the primal sound, I feel everything inside me go liquid, while in the same instant, my cock turns to granite.
Damn it. How does he still do this to me? How does he render me so totally helpless, with just a simple kiss?
My hands slide across his broad, muscled shoulders and down his chest, feeling his power and solidity even through the Christmas sweater he’s wearing. He’s so massive, so strong, so big. I’ve always felt so small in comparison. The sheer masculinity of his body, the way he feels, the way he smells—it all combines to send another wave of lust through me, drowning me in sensation.
To my delight, I can feel Nick trembling beneath my touch, and that makes me feel much more confident. I’m not the only one who’s feeling helpless here. I’m not the only one who’s affected.
Feeling a confidence I’ve never known before, I move my hand down further, across his flat, toned stomach, and down to where his cock strains against the denim fabric. He’s incredibly hot, incredibly hard. And God, he’s huge. I always found him absolutely mouthwatering. Long and thick and perfect. Even through the denim, the heat and size of him is impressive.
“Wow,” I whisper. “That’s quite a package.”
My fingers stroke the bulge in his jeans experimentally, and I hear his quick, sharp intake of breath. His cock jerks beneath my questing fingers, and a tremor runs through him. But he lifts his head and stares down into my eyes, amusement quirking the corners of his mouth upward. His voice holds humor, but I can also hear the hint of a challenge.
“Go ahead and unwrap me.”
✽✽✽
Nick
I intentionally utter the words almost as a challenge. A dare. The Syd of three years ago wasn’t particularly assertive, sexually speaking. I pretty much ran the show in bed back then, and I almost expect him to be annoyed by the suggestion.
I’m taken aback when his eyes darken with lust rather than anger, and his graceful hands reach for the fly of my jeans without the slightest hesitation. I swallow a groan, drop my head back against the headrest, and give a shuddering sigh as those slender, dexterous fingers deftly unbutton my jeans, then unzip the fly.
He hesitates then, staring at the bulge in my boxers. Even without the glasses, he plainly isn’t having any trouble getting a good look at me. His eyes are wide, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing, and his awed expression is a hell of a boost to my ego.
“Go on,” I say hoarsely, letting my eyes flicker shut. “Unwrap it. It’s all for you, Syd. Every last inch of it.”
Slowly, he pushes down my boxers. I exhale through my teeth as he releases me from the confining prison of cotton. I open my eyes to find him staring at my hard-on the way a starving man looks at filet mignon. The hungry, avid expression sets off a fever of lust in my blood.
I can’t help remembering the way he felt in my arms earlier, the scalding kisses we’d shared. God, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed Syd, and I want him back, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
No, I correct myself firmly. I don’t want him back, not that way. Not all of him, anyway. I’m not about to tumble back into a relationship again, especially with him, because I know from experience that just leads to pain and loss and sorrow. Hell, no, I won’t take a single step down that rocky road again. All I want from Archibald Sydney is hot, hard, raunchy sex.
And judging from Syd’s expression, that’s pretty much all he wants too.
Syd wraps a tentative, almost cautious hand around me, ripping a soft groan from my throat. Jesus Christ. I can’t take much of that—it’s been so long. Too damn long. I can feel precome dripping from the head of my cock already, and I know that If Syd strokes me, even just once or twice, I’ll come embarrassingly fast. And I can’t have that, because I have a bad boy reputation to hang onto here.
Besides, I can’t bear the thought of letting it all be over that quickly. So, I reach across the seat, grab him by the waist, and lift him right into my lap.
He’s still a lightweight, but fortunately he doesn’t seem to mind being hauled around like a sack of potatoes. Just like he did in Madison’s living room, he arranges himself so that his knees rest on either side of my thighs. I reach down, grab him by the ass, and yank us together, so that his denim-covered crotch is right up against my bare hard-on.
“Fuck,” I grunt. “Fuck, Syd.”
Syd doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any sound. He just moves against me, rubbing against my cock, over and over again, in a slow, deliberate motion. Sweat breaks out on my skin, my heart pounds in a hectic rhythm, and I bury my face against his shoulder to smother my groans. I don’t want him to know how much he’s affecting me, how out-of-control I feel. The soft rasp of his jeans against my bare, sensitive flesh ought to hurt, but instead it’s driving me wild with need. And beneath the denim I can feel how hard and hot he is, and I know, I know, he’s just as turned on as I am.
I can’t stop thinking about the possibility of Syd creaming his jeans, and the thought of making him lose control to that extent almost sends me right over the edge. But no. I want his bare flesh against mine, damn it. I want to feel that pretty pink cock throbbing against my own.
I fumbled desperately at the fly of his jeans, and manage to get them unbuttoned and unzipped, but I’m inexplicably frustrated by his tighty whities, which my clumsy fingers can’t seem to shove out of the way. They’re just too goddamned tight.
Desperate, and maybe a little bit out of my head with lust, I reach down between our bodies, get a handful of fabric in each hand, and jerk hard. The briefs tear, and Syd’s cock pops out.
God, I want to look at it, so damn bad. Syd’s cock is smaller than mine, small enough that he was always a little self-conscious about it, but it’s pink and pretty, and back when we were together, I absolutely loved touching it, kissing it, sucking it. Right now, I desperately want to take a few moments to stare at it, but it’s just too damn dark to see much of anything.
Besides, I want to feel more than I want to see. For now, anyway.
I yank frantically at his hips, drawing the two of us even closer together. Our cocks rub together, fiery hot and wet with precome, and he rises up on his knees, moving against me in an urgent, hungry motion. I feel my cock give a violent spasm, and a groan of need and more than a little frustration tears its way out of me. I want to make love to Syd in every possible way—to suck him off, to fuck him, to kiss him everywhere—but there just isn’t room in this damn truck for much of anything.
And maybe that’s a good thing, because…
“Fuck,” I whisper.
“What’s wrong?”
I hiss between my teeth. “I don’t have any condoms on me.”
Syd sits back a bit, and through the near-darkness I can see the flicker of scorn on his face. “I figured a guy like you never left home without them.”
Hell, I haven’t bought a single one in the past three years, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I used my last package up last weekend,” I drawl. “I attended a really big orgy.”
He hesitates, frowning a little, as if he’s not sure if I’m kidding or not. At last he shrugs. “I’ve got a couple on me.”
Grrrrr. The fact that he’s carrying around condoms, when I haven’t even thought of them in years, infuriates me. I imagine h
im making love to another man, and jealousy, hot and bitter, rises in my chest. I force it back, cursing myself for a fucking idiot. It’s been three years, for God’s sake—of course Syd hasn’t been celibate this whole time. Only an overly romantic fool would abstain from sex that long after a breakup.
An overly romantic fool like me.
But Syd was the one who did the dumping, so it figures he most likely went happily on with his life and continued dating. I close my eyes, struggling to smother my totally irrational jealousy.
“Terrific,” I say at last, as lightly as I can manage. “Gotta admire a guy who’s prepared. You’re a regular Boy Scout, Syd. I hope you’ve got extra large.”
“Don’t worry,” he answers, acid in his voice. “They’ll fit you and your huge ego.”
I’m hard-pressed not to laugh. I cover the impulse with the most dangerous growl I can manage to produce. “Just get one out, will you? And get ready for the ride of your life.”
Syd looks thoughtful. “I don’t think so,” he says at last, softly. “That’s not what I want right now, Nick. I just want…”
He leans forward again, wrapping his hand around our cocks, pressing them together. The gentle pressure wrings a groan from me.
“Jesus—Syd—I need—”
“Yeah, Nixon, I know what you need. But this is all you get for now.” All at once there’s nothing gentle and submissive about his voice. He speaks with authority, like he’s in charge, in command. A strange shivery thrill shoots up my spine, despite the use of my full first name, or maybe because of it. I’ve never heard Syd sound like that, not ever. He always agreed to anything I suggested. I would have said he wasn’t just gentle…he was meek.
But three years have gone by, and apparently Syd’s changed.
And maybe I have too, because the thought of doing what Syd tells me to do makes me tremble.
Syd’s index finger begins tracing around the head of my cock, stroking over the rim, then slipping over the sensitive slit. I hear myself groaning again, feel my back arching. I’ve totally lost control of my own body. I thought I was hard before, but now—Christ, I ache.
“Syd. Syd. Come on.”
“What’s your rush, Nick?”
My rush is that I’m hard as steel, and I can feel my balls turning blue. I’m trembling on the verge of something I’ve longed for, for three whole years, and Syd is making me wait even longer.
“Shit.” The words fall from me of their own accord. They sound needy, almost whiny, and at this moment I don’t much care. “I need to come, Syd. Please.”
“You’ll come when I say and not before.”
Holy crap. Hearing Syd talk that way is an unexpected turn-on. Syd’s most of a foot shorter than me, and a lot more slender, and when we were together, I always felt like I was in charge. Not that I’m a dom or anything, but somehow things always went the way I wanted them to.
But now, all at once, I’m very definitely not in charge here, and the knowledge makes my head swim.
Syd continued stroking my cock, almost tickling it, really. His finger slides to the base of it and then all the way back up to the head, and then he goes back to tracing lazy circles, until I’m pretty sure I’m about to die. I’m hard and dripping, and the earthy scent of precome fills the cab of the truck.
“Syd,” I moan at last, in a harsh, agonized whisper. I just can’t take it anymore. “Please.”
I’m definitely begging, but I’m way past caring. Syd takes pity on me, leaning forward, pressing into me again, and wrapping his hand around both our cocks, just like before. But this time it’s utterly overwhelming. I can’t breathe, can’t do anything but fall back against the seat, panting for breath, my eyes slamming shut.
I meant for this to be a hot, raunchy encounter, and nothing more, but I just can’t resist kissing Syd. I wrap my fingers in his curls, yank his head forward, and slam our lips together with a lot more desperation than finesse. Syd doesn’t seem to mind. His lips part for me, and his tongue slides into my mouth like he’s been waiting for this all along.
He tastes like the pumpkin pie we had for dessert, spicy and sweet all at once. I intend to take control back, to establish who’s in charge here, but when Syd starts sucking on my tongue in a primal rhythm, a rhythm that echoes the frantic motion of our bodies, I feel myself melting, becoming pliable in his hands.
Oh, who the hell am I kidding, anyway? I’m not in charge here. Anything Syd wants, I’ll do. Anything at all.
Syd moves against me, hard, his smaller cock brushing mine in a relentlessly increasing tempo. His hand closes around us more tightly, and I’m utterly, completely lost, lost in a fog of pleasure and lust and… well, joy.
God help me, I’m happy, for the first time in so damn long. I haven’t had sex in three fucking years, and all of a sudden, I can’t help admitting to myself it’s because I’ve been waiting for this. For Syd.
Syd’s all I want.
He’s all I’ve ever wanted.
I hear myself sobbing and gasping, but the sounds I’m making seem to come from a long distance away, down a tunnel. I’m lost somewhere else, trapped in an alternate dimension of pure physical pleasure. And yet I’m vividly aware of my body’s reactions. My cock starts twitching, hard and demanding, and I feel my orgasm racing toward me like a runaway freight train, fast and unstoppable.
When I hear Syd finally make a sound, a low, soft moan, I can’t hold back any longer. Not that I’ve been trying, really. But knowing that Syd wants this too has to be the greatest turn-on of my entire life.
I come in a molten rush of fire, a heated explosion that feels like it’s consuming me. My come spurts between us, sticky and hot. And then I hear Syd crying out, and shit, he’s coming all over me too. The knowledge that he’s loving this as much as I am makes me even hotter than before, and instead of fading away, I swear my climax gets more intense. I sob with pleasure, riding the long, wild waves of it.
At last the ecstasy subsides, fading into a slow, gentle tide that washes softly over me, filling me with a contentment I’ve never felt before. I collapse back against the leather seat, my eyes shut, my head lolling, in a state of almost complete exhaustion.
Syd’s slender body presses against my chest, and it feels so good that it’s all I can do not to wrap my arms around him and cuddle him, the way I always did when we were together.
A feeling of peace, of absolute rightness, pervades me. A feeling I haven’t experienced in three long years.
“Ah…. God,” I whisper.
Syd’s head jerks up at the reverence in my voice, and I open my eyes to find myself on the receiving end of a shocked stare. All at once I realize the tone of my voice all but gave away how much the brief, intense encounter meant to me, and I hastily do my best to conceal my true emotions from his searching gaze.
I offer him a lazy, insolent smile.
“You’re still pretty damn good with your hands, Syd.”
Through the darkness, I see hurt fill his eyes, followed rapidly by rage. He lifts his chin and glares, obviously unwilling to let me win this round.
“Yeah, well, you still do a pretty good job of just sitting there.”
I almost burst out laughing. Seriously, who does Syd think he’s kidding? Yeah, sure, maybe I was willing to submit for once in my life, but that doesn’t mean I’m the only one who had fun. I felt his body jerk with the force of his climax, heard his hoarse cry as he came, and his come is all over my reindeer sweater. I’m not under any illusions that I left him hanging.
Syd was every bit as into this as me, damn it.
Even so, I’m not one to refuse to pick up a gauntlet, once it’s been thrown down. I reach for him, wrap my hand in the depths of his hair, and yank him toward him until we’re almost nose to nose.
“I can do better,” I tell him. “That is, if you’re man enough to take it.”
“I can take anything you can dish out,” he answers, glaring at me without blinking.
“I can d
ish out a whole hell of a lot, sweetheart. But not here. This seat is killing my back. If we keep this up—” I can’t help chuckling at the unintended pun. “—I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
“Fine. What did you have in mind?”
“My place.” I flash my most evil grin, the one that always makes Madison think I’m up to something… usually with good reason. “I don’t know if you remember, but I have a nice big bed.”
Syd’s eyes go dark, whether with lust or unhappy memories I can’t quite tell. “Yeah. I remember.”
“So come home with me, Syd. Let’s get naked. Let’s get unwrapped… together.”
I hear his breath catch at the thought of the two of us in bed together. I know exactly how he feels. God knows the image of driving into his sweet ass is more than enough to send another hot rush of blood to my cock.
A little frottage was enough to practically knock me unconscious. Making love to him, feeling every inch of that nude, sweaty body pressed against his, is probably going to kill me. But I’m willing to take that risk.
I’m afraid to push too hard, so I wait. There’s a long and profound silence. At last Syd says slowly, “Okay. Let’s go back to your house.”
A breath I didn’t realize I was holding hisses from between my teeth. Hot damn. Syd wants to come home with me.
He slides off my lap, and we both try to mop up a little, then zip up our jeans. As Syd settles into his seat and buckles the seatbelt, I steal a look at the clock on my dashboard. It’s only nine o’clock. Christmas is coming (so to speak) early this year.
I probably deserve coal in my stocking, but instead I’m getting a night with Syd.
I can’t imagine anything I want more.
Chapter 5
Nick
My house is on the outskirts of town, on a heavily wooded, two-acre lot. Landscape design isn’t merely my profession; it’s my passion, and having a big lot gives me the opportunity to indulge in cool ideas I might not dare to try out on my clients first. But I also appreciate the privacy it affords me. I could have wild orgies every night without the neighbors hearing, if I happened to want to, but to be honest, the wildest thing I usually do is turn up Steppenwolf a little too loud.
