Getting it up

Excerpt: He didn't let Jim wander too far; he rubbed flat palms over Jim's chest and stomach to reacquaint himself with that fine body. He wanted to move to the part where Jim was naked, but the anticipation was enough for now.

“Let's lie down,” he murmured, hands moving to unbutton the other man's shirt. “More comfortable that way.” He loosened Jim's shirt and reached for his belt as Jim slowly set him on fire with a sultry look. First the buttons, then the belt, then the awkward and sexy shimmy out of his pants. Griffin ran his tongue over his lips, then mimicked the move on Jim's mouth until they both swayed.
Griffin gave Jim a tiny push toward the bed, that swagger back again. The straining erection tenting those Boy Scout tighty whities told him everything he wanted—but Jim's eyes explained what he needed. It made him feel like a god to know that so clearly, without words being said.

“No boots on the bed,” Jim said, cheeky and breathless. And ridiculously hot. Griffin felt his retinas burning as his eyes raked over Jim's muscled body.

“You're going to vacuum when I fall asleep, aren't you?”

“No. Maybe,” Jim admitted, lying back on the bed. “I might dust too.”

“Well, then I'm going to have to work hard to make sure you can't move.” Griffin toed off his boots and pushed them to the side, following with his socks and shirt. Now in an undershirt and jeans, he walked slowly to stand next to the bed.

If he thought too much, he would be overwhelmed by how this man made him feel. Jim Shea was so far out of his league that he thought this might be Opposite Day. Because in the real world, men who looked like Jim got one look at his slightly geeky exterior and pegged Griffin for a good-time bottom who would understand why they never called after that night.

Jim Shea didn't look at him that way. His blue eyes were needy and hopeful and apprehensive, and Griffin soaked it up. He couldn't keep Jim waiting another second; he pressed his hands on the firm mattress, palms flat on either side of Jim's massive shoulders. Jim didn't move, he just sort of…exhaled…and Griffin's slow route got detoured.

He swung one leg over Jim's hips and knelt over him.

Jim still didn't move, though the energy and anticipation leaped up into Griffin's skin. He leaned down, licking his lips as their eyes held until the last second—and then that slow, sexy kissing ignited once again.
Griffin loved to kiss, loved that hungry push of tongues and teasing chase. He loved the taste of a man—in this case, Jim was steak and coffee with a piece-of-gum chaser, exactly the way Mr. Tough Guy should taste.

All that power and strength stayed coiled, though; Griffin knew that Jim could toss him across the room if he wanted, but clearly all he was angling for right now was Griffin pressing him down on the bed.

Jim's hands came up, strong but tentative, and four seconds later Griffin was engulfed by his white T-shirt—then that was gone. The cool air made him shiver, but Jim took care of that too, ghosting his fingers over Griffin's bare skin.
Will not flinch, not ticklish right at this really perfect moment, he thought, moving his mouth off and on Jim's to catch his breath. “Feels good,” he murmured, gently reassuring Jim as his eyes drifted closed. Those callused fingers counted his ribs, diagrammed his spine, and drifted around to rub over Griffin's nipples.

“Ahhh, amazingly good.” Griffin exhaled, dropping his ass down to sit on Jim's upper thighs as his hand moved to Jim's fly. He needed relief; Jim seemed to think so too as their fingers joined together to unbutton and unzip the fly all the way down. This brought those overabused erections against each other again through dampening cotton, and both men moaned.

And then Griffin moaned louder, because damn, that little concert sounded hot.

“We should, uh… How about me without my pants?” Griffin talked under his breath, scrabbling at the waistband of his jeans. Of course it wasn't going to work unless he stood up—a quick look revealed the ceiling fan pretty high up, and he unfolded off Jim to stand and unbutton his jeans.

And looked down to see himself straddled over Jim—who was laughing.

“Something funny?”

“No.” Jim kept smiling, though.

Griffin tried to breathe and kick off the jeans without falling off the bed. Because he was damned if this evening was going to end with him in an emergency room.

Now sans jeans, Griffin put his hands on his hips and shot Jim his best sexy-pirate look. Jim tucked his hands behind his head and shot a sexy look up of his own.

It was all mind-blowingly perfect, like he'd written this man and date and moment himself. And now, because it was real life and not a movie set, Griffin was starting to catch a cool breeze. He dropped back down to his knees, once again straddling Jim's marble-sculpted body.

“You wanna… I need…” Griffin fumbled for a moment, sucked dry of proper word usage as Jim surged up against him. They were face-to-face, and Jim didn't look so amused anymore. He looked starving.

“Left nightstand, top drawer,” he answered, quick and quiet. Griffin nodded, then leaned forward for a kiss, twining his hands together at the back of Jim's neck, rubbed his palms against the tense cords of the other man's skin.
He lost himself again in Jim and the kiss, open mouths and quick, darting tongues.

“Just so you know, I'm a product of the eighties and a latex king. Very clean,” Griffin managed between kisses. Jim nodded and pulled Griffin down on top of him, pushed his knees up so Griffin's weight was heavy on his chest.

It was the perfect position for kissing, the ideal angle for rubbing dick against dick, their respective pairs of underwear both a hindrance and a help to keep from popping off too soon; Griffin supposed it might be where he'd like to live forever.

The urge to fuck was still there—very strong, very much so—but Griffin felt contentment spreading through his bones, thick and hot. Jim didn't seem in a hurry either, hands tangling through Griffin's hair and down his back.

Another deep stroke of his tongue and Jim bucked upward; Griffin felt a fire pumping up in his blood and pressed his palms against Jim's shoulders.
He held him down and kissed him and tasted the breathless moans, and the urge to fuck roared back.

He attacked Jim's granite jawline and down his neck, running his teeth over the sharp pulse. Vampiric urges swelled up as he tested the strength of his teeth against Jim's skin until he felt the…give…until he felt that he could burst through and taste Jim and yeah, taste him—he wanted to taste him.

“Put your legs down,” Griffin ground out, shimmying down until he could kneel between Jim's spread-open knees, looking up at that vast landscape of man—desperate, hot, wanting man whose expectation made Griffin smile wickedly.

“Hold on,” he said as he grabbed the waistband of Jim's underwear and pulled down.

Excerpt: Evan moved closer, until they were leaning against one another, Matt’s head on Evan’s shoulder. Evan’s voice was barely a whisper again his cheek. “I can’t explain my feelings for you. I’ve only loved, and wanted, one other person in my life. I don’t know what’s going to happen. Don’t know what I can give you… I have so many people depending on me Matt, I don’t know what I can risk… But…I wanted you to know this…wanted to tell you…I love you.”

That spasm of pleasure/pain burst inside Matt again, so intense this time he could barely see, breath, hear…in forty-two years he’d never felt this way, never heard those words said with so much emotion, so much truth. All he could do was wrap his arms around Evan’s body and pull him close. He was shaking with need. Trembling with unspoken emotion.

“I…I understand if you don’t feel the same way…” Evan’s voice was panicked, thick and it broke Matt’s heart.

He shook his head against Evan’s shoulder. “No,” he croaked out. “No…stop.” He pulled away just enough to move his face, put his mouth against Evan’s ear. He traced it with his tongue, sucked his skin. “Tell me why.”

“What?” Evan moaned, his hands clutching at Matt’s shoulders.

“Why do you love me?” Matt knew he sounded desperate and childish but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to hear why. Wanted to understand how he -- Matt Haight -- could ever be the person whom Evan would love.

“Why? Because…because you make me feel like the world isn’t so fucked up, and you make my kids smile… Because you’re the best friend I’ve ever fucking had…because I want you in a way I never imagined…”

“Shut up.” Matt’s face was hot, burning. “Shut up.”

Evan pulled away to look him in the eye.

“Shut up. I love you too,” he breathed, and then he was kissing Evan as hard as he could, wanting to show him what those words meant. Wanted to please him…

He moved toward the general direction of the couch, disengaging their mouths just to make sure. Evan wasn’t being passive this time -- he was tugging at Matt’s clothes, unbuttoning his shirt halfway then reaching for his belt.

Matt saw the couch was near, pushed Evan down on it. Felt himself harden even more, as Evan looked up at him, surprised, sprawled on his back…reached for Matt but Matt shook him off.

“No,” Matt muttered, hearing the pound of his heartbeat. “No…this is for you… Want you to know…how much…” He couldn’t go on, he didn’t have the words. He reached down to stroke Evan’s strong jaw, his fingers over that beautiful mouth. Trailed his hand down the front of his tight black shirt. Rubbed his flat stomach, the waistband of his sweats. Evan was watching him silently, those silver-blue eyes burning into Matt’s face.

He knew what he wanted to do and it frightened him. Frightened him because he’d never had these thoughts before, never craved it. Shaking, Matt pulled the cushions off the couch so they’d have more room…straddled Evan’s body, one knee on either side of his thighs. They stared at one another for a long time, then Matt couldn’t wait and he leaned down, bracing his arms on the sofa, pinning Evan’s arms.

“Trust me.” And then Matt kissed him, hard and frantic, biting his lips. He felt Evan moving underneath him, trying to get free, to touch him.

“No.” He moved his mouth down Evan’s throat roughly, hearing his inarticulate groans, wanting more. Matt reached the top of the T-shirt, moaned in frustration.

“I’m going to move my hands,” he whispered hotly in Evan’s ear, “but I don’t want you to move…”

Evan let out a rush of air. “Why am I not surprised you’re giving orders in bed…”

Matt laughed hoarsely. “We’re on the couch you idiot. And believe me, you’re going to enjoy letting me take control right now…”

He was rewarded with a bite on the patch of skin right below his ear. “You call me a tease,” Evan said.

“Shhhh…you talk way too fucking much, Cerelli.” Matt kissed him again, sucking Evan’s tongue into his mouth. He sat up, grabbing the bottom of Evan’s shirt and pulling it off. “Move up.”

Smiling, Evan moved back on his elbows, shifted up on the couch. Matt grabbed the waistband of his pants, pulled them down as far as they could. He crooked an eyebrow at his lover.

“You are a boy scout. Nice of you to come prepared.”

“Your turn.” Evan smirked. But Matt shook his head.

“Nope, sorry. Weren’t you supposed to be shutting up?” His bantering tone warred with the pounding of his heart. He could taste the desire he had for this man on the tip of his tongue. “I told you not to move -- and I meant it.”

Evan nodded, laid back down on the couch, his eyes dark with want.

Matt took a long deep breath. He resumed the kissing, the biting, the claiming of Evan’s mouth, neck…moved lower… across his chest, for the first time letting his tongue touch the hard brown nipples -- Matt’s brain almost exploded at the near-sob Evan choked out.

More…more…more… Matt chanted in his head. He kept moving, sucking skin. He slid down farther, pushing Evan up, pulling his sweats off at the same time.

Their eyes met again. Evan swallowed hard, shook his head. “You don’t have --”

“Shut up. I want you. I want to do this.” Matt’s voice sounded foreign to his own ears.

Evan was still, then he scooted up, until he was resting against the arm of the couch, his eyes never leaving Matt’s face. Matt leaned forward to take his first taste, moving his lips to the side of Evan’s cock, caressing it carefully with his tongue. He pulled back and applied his mouth to the shaft, kissing it, listening to the sounds Evan was making -- the soft hisses of air that told him he’d hit the right spot. Evan sank back into the cushions, his hands pulling at Matt’s shirt “You okay?” Matt whispered.

“Yeah,” came the breathless answer. “Are you?”

“Yeah…”

“You don’t have to…” Evan moaned softly.

“Want to,” Matt whispered, with authority this time, and then bent his head again to Evan’s cock, covering it with slow, wet kisses. Evan gasped, made a halfhearted, inarticulate attempt to beg Matt off, but he didn’t listen. He took his time, making his movements gentle and easy. Frankly he had no idea what he was doing, ’cause getting this done to you didn’t really prepare you for doing it to someone, but ego and love demanded he do this right. Finally, he slipped the tip of Evan’s cock into his mouth and the taste exploded across his tongue. Evan was breathing hard and moaning softly, his head thrown back against the arm of the couch. This was fucking terrifying and amazing and oh God, he could barely keep his brain from splintering listening to Evan sob and moan above him. This may be for Evan, but Matt had never been so turned on in his entire life. Matt moved his mouth, trying not to gag, not wanting to spoil it, taking more, and desperately thinking this isn’t enough…more… Matt closed his eyes and let his mouth make love to Evan, let himself go without thinking about anything but pleasing this man.

The emotion of it all made his body ache, and knowledge that he, Matt Haight, was drawing these sobs of pleasure out of Evan, that he loved Matt as much as Matt loved him…it spurred him on. He dug his fingers into the sharp bones of Evan’s pelvis, held him down on the couch and sucked harder, harder… Evan choked out a gasp of surprise and came abruptly, filling Matt’s mouth with bitter fluid. Matt swallowed -- choking, surprised, and overwhelmed.

He waited until the vibrations strumming through Evan’s body stopped, then let him go. Shifted his weight. He laid his head against Evan’s muscled thigh, shuddering as if he had been the one to come so hard. He felt Evan’s hands softly stroking his hair, digging deeper, touching his scalp with strong fingers. He wondered if this had been a part of him all along and Evan had merely brought it into the open. He wondered if this was just love, not a lifestyle choice, not biology.

Excerpt: "Don't touch that."

Chance glanced up in the mirror to see Tucker leaning in the doorway of the bathroom, watching. "You took yours off already," he pointed out.

"Mine ain't got as much skin that needs to heal. You can take it off before bed." He came in and stood behind Chance, resting his chin on Chance's shoulder and meeting Chance's eyes in the reflection. "So whaddya think?"

"I think I like it," he said softly, leaning his head against Tucker's. "It's sort of ... permanent." Except there was no 'sort of' about it, and that was the part he liked.

Tucker nodded. "That was the idea."

They looked at each other for a long time in the mirror, Tucker's arms hooked around Chance's waist, until Chance turned his head to kiss him. "I know I was a dick," Chance murmured against Tucker's mouth, but Tucker shook his head and didn't let him say anything else.

They stood in the same position for long minutes until Chance felt Tucker grow hard against his ass. He shifted slightly in Tucker's embrace, meaning to turn and face him, but Tucker tightened his arms. "No," he whispered to Chance.

"Stay this way. Watch in the mirror."

Chance felt his cheeks heat immediately. "Aw, come on."

"For me," Tucker said, and damn if he didn't know just what to say to make Chance obey his every wish.

It didn't take much more than unzipping two sets of shorts before Tucker was reaching over to the medicine cabinet for the lube and sliding wet fingers into Chance. Chance would have closed his eyes then to savor the feel, but Tucker squeezed one hand around his cock and said, "No, look. I
want you to look."

So Chance looked, the last of the embarrassment fading away as he felt Tucker line himself up without ever breaking his gaze in the mirror. Their eyes stayed locked as Tucker eased in to the hilt, one hand on Chance's waist and the other making perfect strokes on his cock. "Us," Chance whispered, darting a fast glance down to the fresh ink on his arm and back up. "You and me. Just us."

"Just us," Tucker repeated, pulling out with a sigh and then gliding back in. "Just us, always. Promise."

"Promise."

Chance felt as if he was floating and grounded at the same time. Tucker's eyes in the mirror kept him rooted where he was, but the hand on his cock and the small brushes over his gland were sending him soaring. He would have likened it to finding the perfect wave, but there really was nothing else that compared to how he felt when he and Tucker were connecting on more than a physical level.

Tucker's teeth were against Chance's neck then, eyes still holding Chance's in the mirror as he sucked up a bite and brought dark blood to the surface of the thin skin. Chance knew Tucker was leaving another mark, not as permanent as the one on his arm, but a sign of possession nonetheless, and Chance felt the muscles in his thighs begin to tremble with the strain of holding off his orgasm. "Tucker," Chance said by
way of warning, hands gripping the countertop, knowing if Tucker had a mind to do it, he could keep Chance on the edge for hours.

The hand on his cock sped up, teasing with nimble fingers at the head and tracing the heavy underside while Chance fought to keep his eyes from closing. "You're gonna look," Tucker murmured to him. "I wanna see you when you come."

Chance could only nod and suck his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down hard enough to bloody it and straining for the release that Tucker wouldn't let him have until Tucker was good and ready. Tucker's hand was tight around his cock and Chance jerked into his fist, feeling the push and pull behind him start to get a little shaky.

He wouldn't have thought that watching himself would be so hot, but now that Tucker had made him look, he couldn't tear his gaze away. Chance noted how their muscles flexed and stretched against each other and he started to see details of his own body that he normally never looked at. The way his tan contrasted with the skin below his bathing suit line.
How he grew taut whenever Tucker's fingers tightened on him. It was an experience Chance hadn't had before, one he'd never considered as erotic, and he filed it away to remember for later.

It only took one more sweet tug on his dick and Chance was coming, hard and messy against the countertop, Tucker's name on his lips and a hot stare burning into him in their reflection. Chance ran a finger through his own come pooling on the sink and lifted it behind him, to Tucker's mouth.

The instant Tucker darted out a tongue to catch the taste, Chance felt him freeze and suck in a breath. "Oh, goddamn," he groaned, and then Tucker was trembling and gasping and coming hard enough to make him lean a hand over on the counter for support.

They traded kisses and touches and whispers while they cleaned up, and that night after dinner, Tucker took him back into the bathroom and carefully peeled off the bandage over his tattoo. Chance watched silently as Tucker used gentle fingers to put ointment on the ink, pressing a kiss to Chance's shoulder when he was finished.

"Just us, always," Tucker said again, repeating their words from earlier. "Promise."

"Promise," Chance whispered, watching him in the mirror.

"Always."

Excerpt: Finally, frustrated with himself and needing to blow off steam, he retreated to the workout room. He set a treadmill on high and ran for twenty minutes. It helped a little. The racked weights caught his eye and he figured he could lift for a while. If nothing else, he could at least exhaust himself so that maybe he wouldn't dream tonight and wake up at four a.m. with a raging hard-on.

Chance was lying on the bench, staring up at the barbell and wondering if he should go ask Alex to spot him or just give up on working out altogether, when the door opened. If he had been blind and deaf he would have known it was Tucker, because wouldn't that just be his goddamned luck?

A dark head appeared in his line of vision and Chance got
an excellent view of Tucker's t-shirt pulled tight across his
chest. "Want a spotter?"

No, Chance thought. "Yes."

"Gotcha. Go."

Thankfully, it took most of Chance's attention to focus on the weight, because he'd added eight more pounds than usual. His muscles were screaming and he could feel sweat standing out on his forehead when he was finished, Tucker helping him put the weights back on the bar above him.

Chance let himself lie there and breathe for a minute. He was about to get up with a mumbled "thanks," but before Chance could even sit up, Tucker had come around to the front of the bench and straddled Chance's legs. Tucker didn't sit; merely stood above him and gazed down with a serious expression. Once again, Chance found himself frozen by only a stare.

"I do my job, yeah?"

Chance blinked, not expecting the question. "Yeah."

"Then why the shitty attitude, man?" Tucker was as straight-faced as Chance had ever seen him, and it occurred to Chance that Tucker really wanted an answer.

Because I'd like to turn you around and nail you to the wall was probably not the answer Tucker was looking for. Chance opened his mouth and then closed it again, not willing to tell the truth and not wanting to lie. His eyes strayed to the front of Tucker's shorts and then back up to his face.

Tucker cocked a dark brow and slowly lowered himself until he was sitting astride Chance's hips. "This why?" he whispered, giving a slow, downward nudge. Chance felt Tucker's cock through his shorts, full and solid.

He darted a panicked look at the door. "The guys," he said, his voice sounding hoarse to his own ears.

"Watching a movie. Come on, Shanahan. You don't waste your breath talking to me if we're not on a call. I wanna know why not." Tucker leaned forward, placing both hands on Chance's chest and bringing their cocks into fuller contact.

"You afraid?"

"Fuck you," Chance growled, and grabbed a handful of Tucker's hair, bringing Tucker down to him for a vicious kiss.

Chance felt Tucker grinning against his mouth before Chance shoved his tongue inside, sweeping and claiming and growling. He fisted a hand in the back of Tucker's t-shirt and rocked up against him, trying like hell to release some of the pressure of the last few weeks. Tucker groaned into Chance's kiss, pushing back against him, and before Chance could get his bearings, they were humping each other like kids.

"Been starin' at your ass for weeks," Tucker was muttering. "So fuckin' cocky, the way you parade around here with your shirt off and your tan line peekin' out over your shorts. You fuckin' bastard, Chance."

"Shut up," Chance hissed, arching his neck so Tucker could bite at it. "Shut the fuck up or they'll hear us."

Excerpt: Nicolas returned in a subdued mood, closing the door behind him before he spoke. “It’s done. You leave in three hours.”

“Thank you.” Grier stood, and Alec followed his lead. “I’d like to get some sleep, if you have no objections.”

“None. Alec?” Nicolas tilted his head at Alec’s blank look.

“Would you care to rest?” Alec shook his head. “Too keyed up. What else do you have to do around here?”

“Ah.” A spark of playfulness returned. “I’m sure we can come up with something. Grier, you’re capable of finding a bed on your own, aren’t you?” Nicolas threw the door open and ushered Alec out. “I think I have just the thing. Do you box, Alec?”

Grier tagged along behind, frowning. “Perhaps—”

“Get some sleep,” Alec said. “I’ll be fine.” Already the tension was spiraling higher, spurred by the promised challenge. He’d welcome the chance to work out some aggression. Working it out on Nicolas would be a bonus.

Nicolas shoved Grier into the nearest guest room. “Nighty-night,” he said with a curt wave. “Don’t worry about Alec. I promise not to hurt him. Too much.” He closed the door in Grier’s face. “Come on. Let’s see if any of my toys make you happy.”

Alec studied Nicolas as they walked. He moved with a fluid grace that Alec lacked, but then Alec also had two inches and a good twenty pounds on him. He bet Nicolas relied on all that fancy footwork too, something Alec had never mastered.

They descended two flights past various utility rooms to a set of double doors. Nicolas pushed them open and marched inside. Whatever Alec had been expecting, this unadorned room wasn’t it. “What, no naked attendants?”

Nicolas flicked on the overhead lights. “I can arrange for some if they motivate you.” He smiled sweetly. “Perhaps Grier would indulge us.”

Alec swallowed noisily. That was the last thing he needed to be thinking about. “Nah.” He took a deep breath of musty air, inspecting the floor mats and punching bags. Along the far wall, a bank of open cabinets held towels, tape, and other odds and ends. A bench ran the length, with pairs of boxing gloves lined up neatly above it. Grinning, Alec rubbed his hands together.

“You never answered my question,” Nicolas said as they moved toward the bench. “Do you box?”

“I dabble.” A pair of jet black gloves caught Alec’s eye, and he scooped them up, testing the weight. He guessed at least sixteen ounces. Perfect. “You?”

“Never before in my life.” Nicolas pulled a pair of shorts off the shelf and begin stripping down. He threw Alec some wraps. “And take your hands off my gloves.”

Being right about something had never been so painful, Alec decided. Twenty minutes later, he stood in a semi-crouch, trying to catch his breath while Nicolas danced around him, feet a blur.

Nicolas’s, “Had enough?” pulled a snarl from his throat. He straightened his stance and began to stalk him across the floor.

Nicolas blocked his next jab and cross—slippery bastard—but couldn’t dodge Alec’s hook. He went down hard. Alec leaned over him. “Had enough?”
Nicolas sighed. Through the headgear it sounded like a snake hissing. “I think… yes.”

“Thank fucking God.” Alec left him on the floor and stumbled to the bench. He peeled the tape loose with his teeth and pried the gloves off, then sagged against the wall, grinning so wide his jaw hurt. His head ached, but the adrenaline rush was keeping it in check. So was the sight of Nicolas limping his way, looking disheveled and not one bit the uptight aristocrat. Alec grabbed a thick white towel off the top of the pile and lobbed it at him.
Nicolas caught it out of the air before it smacked him in the face. “Thanks.”

“God, I needed that.” The endorphins sharpened his awareness to near painful levels. He felt it all. The trickle of perspiration between his shoulder blades. The pull of overused muscles. The cold air gushing out of the air conditioner vent above his head. Nicolas’s presence beside him, and the dual thump of their hearts.

“You’re a brute.” Nicolas wiped the sweat from his face and neck.

“Yeah. You’re not bad either.” Nicolas groaned into the towel. “That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Sure it wasn’t.”

They both looked up when the doors opened. Grier’s sigh carried all the way across the room. “Is there blood?”

“Nope.” Alec looked Nicolas up and down. “I was gentle.”

“Caveman ego is not charming. Grier, tell him.” Grier watched from the door, saying nothing.

“I wasn’t trying to be charming.”

“Sadly, I knew that.” Nicolas winced as he stood. “I need a shower. If you’ll excuse me.” Grier let him go, but a look passed between them, something intimate. Alec felt too sated to care.

Grier nudged the abandoned gloves out of the way and sat. He crossed his legs and stared down his nose at Alec. “Did it occur to you that your little grudge match might have exacerbated your headaches?”

“Nope. I feel great.” He turned his grin on Grier, dipping his gaze to take in the other man’s rumpled appearance. “Get any sleep?”

“None, of course.”

Alec smirked at the tone and continued his perusal, letting his eyes linger where they wanted. He thumped a fist on the abandoned gloves. “Wanna get sweaty?”

Grier’s inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. He sifted a hand through Alec’s damp hair. “Is that an invitation?”

High on endorphins, Alec laughed. “Didn’t it fucking sound like one?”

Excerpt: AS SOON as his front door closed, we were in each other’s arms, kissing frantically as we struggled out of our clothes. Stumbling over clothes and each other, we started down the hall.

When he wrapped his fingers around my cock, my knees buckled, and I reached for the nearest piece of furniture for balance. He glanced to the side and grinned. “This will work as well as anywhere.”

I looked down, realizing I had grabbed his pool table for balance. He took advantage of my momentary distraction and used his body weight to push me up against the table. Before I could think, he dropped to his knees and my cock was in his mouth. All the way in his mouth.

Grabbing the table with my other hand, I braced myself, trying to stay standing. “Oh God,” I moaned. I had already been close to climaxing before we even made it through the door, but his mouth was going to put me over the edge. Everything he did was perfect. Fucking perfect. He knew just where and how to flick his tongue, squeezing with his lips here, circling with his tongue there, and he knew exactly when to deep-throat me to nearly knock my legs out from under me. When his hand joined, stroking in time with his mouth, I couldn’t hold back.

“Oh God, oh God, I’m—” But the words melted into a groan that crescendoed into a roar as I came. And still he sucked me, fucking me with his mouth until I couldn’t take anymore and somehow found the words and the will to beg him to stop.

I was breathless and shaking when he stood. He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, and I grabbed him, pulling him into a deep kiss. The sweet-saltiness of my own semen on his tongue made me weak.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” he whispered.

I nodded, licking my lips as I savored the taste of his kiss. Of myself. I followed him into the bedroom, where we kicked off the last of our clothes before collapsing into bed together.

Lying on my back, I pulled him on top of me, putting my arms around him as we simply kissed for the longest time. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I still couldn’t believe that I was back in his arms. When he’d walked out of the club with the blonde on his arm, I had been sure he was gone. Yet here he was. Here I was.

He lifted himself over me and pressed his cock against me. The thought of sucking him just as he had done to me made my mouth water. I put my hands on his hips and raised my head to kiss him.

“I want to suck your cock,” I whispered. It should have been surreal and weird to say things like that, and maybe it would have been with any other man, but with Brandon, it only made sense. The very thought of not wanting to suck his cock was absurd.

“Do you?” he asked, his grin softening into another kiss.

“Yes. Now.” I licked my lips, my hands shaking against him. “Please.”

“I love it when you get like this.” He dipped his head and kissed my neck again. “When you’re so turned on you’re shaking.”

“And you called me a tease.”

“You are a tease.” Sucking my earlobe into his mouth, he added,“And so am I.” He kissed below my ear, making a slow, spine-tingling circle with his tongue.

“Get on your back, or I will put you on your back,” I growled.

He laughed, nipping the side of my neck. “I dare you.”

“You dare me?”

“I do. If you want it that bad—” His shoulders rippled as he shifted his weight and kissed the other side of my neck. “Come and get it.”

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

He snorted, the sharp breath hissing across my throat and making me shiver. “I’d like to see you try.”

I relaxed my grip on his hips. Exhaling, I said in a resigned tone, “I can’t. I don’t want to hurt you. Really.”

He furrowed his brow, searching my eyes as if to see if I was serious.

“Really.” I avoided his eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He laughed, but his stance relaxed slightly. “Dustin, you’re not going to hurt me. I like it a bit rough sometimes.”

“I know, but—” I grabbed his shoulders and threw my weight into him, flipping both of us over in one quick motion. In the next instant, he was flat on his back, his arms pinned beside his head, his eyes wide.

“What the—”

I laughed, lowering myself enough to kiss him but keeping my mouth just out of his reach. “You shouldn’t let your guard down like that.”

He craned his neck, trying to kiss me, but I stayed out of his reach.

“You’re in bed with a Marine.” I kissed the underside of his jaw. “Don’t forget it.”

“Oh, believe me,” he growled, his entire body squirming beneath mine, “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good.” I kissed him, then worked my way down his neck to his chest. My mouth watered at the mere thought of having my lips around him, but I took my time. I savored every inch of his body, circling first one nipple with my tongue, then the other, drawing the tip of my tongue along the grooves of his abs, watching his muscles quiver as I did. I kissed the top of his hipbone and let my fingertips drift down his abs, watching as even my gentlest touch made his back arch off of the bed.

I pressed my lips to his lower abdomen, as close as I could get to his cock without actually touching it, then again on the other side, letting my jaw just barely brush the hard shaft, grinning as his hips lifted toward me.

He propped himself up on his elbows and watched me, exhaling as I drew my tongue around his cock on his abdomen without touching it.

“Jesus, you’re a tease,” he said.

“And you love every minute of it.”