He touched Zane’s waist when he arrived, fingers rubbing his skin softly. His tenderness might have been the only thing that could drag Zane’s gaze upward.
“Take yours off first,” Trey said. “My surprise is under mine.” “You’ve really got a surprise.”“I really do,” Trey said.Zane kissed him, lips molding over his lover’s gently, hands flattened for balance behind his shoulder blades. The girl-soft kiss was more Trey’s style than his. When he let go, Trey was starry-eyed. Pleased with himself, Zane shucked his briefs, spun them around one finger, then plopped himself bare-ass naked on the couch.“All right,” he said, arms and legs akimbo on the leather, “show me what you’ve got in there.”Trey shoved the white briefs down his legs. Zane noticed his bare cock first, this being the natural magnet for his interest. He took a moment to realize Trey’s pubes were shaved.Then he saw the outline of the ornate monster.“Holy fuck,” he said, scooting forward on the cushion.Trey had a new tattoo, a black Chinese dragon a bit smaller than Zane’s hand running up the left half of his abdomen. This was no press on. The skin around the design was pink from healing. The dragon’s tail curled around the hefty base of Trey’s erection, the final pointy tip extending onto his penile skin on the underside. Zane’s breath hissed in at the thought of artist’s needle shooting ink into him there.Getting this tattoo must have burned like a mother.Zane’s penis lurched out so hard it felt like it was burning too. His hands seemed to find their own way onto Trey’s thighs, stroking the hairy muscles there. He swallowed, more turned on than he knew how to describe.“It’s not complete yet,” Trey said, his voice softened by shyness. “I could only stand to have one color done for the first session. You’ll see the letters more clearly once the green and red are there.”There were letters? Trey’s erection cast a shadow from the light on the end table. Zane pushed his shaft gently to the side so he could see better. He was panting and couldn’t seem to stop. Somehow, he thought Trey would forgive him.And there they were: an intertwined Z and T worked into the dragon’s body.The lettering was fancy, hard to read unless you knew to look for it.“It’s for me,” Trey said. “To always remember us. No one else will guess it’s there.”Zane throat threatened to close up. Fuck, Trey was sweet sometimes. Hedidn’t know how to thank him, though he was going to try. He looked up, knowing his emotions shone naked in his eyes. “When did you get this done?”“Last week. I kept wondering if you’d notice I was avoiding you in bed.”“Oh I noticed.” Zane laughed ruefully at himself. “Why do you think I’ve been in a shit mood lately?”“Because you thought we were going our separate ways.” “Didn’t that upset you?”“Yes,” Trey said. “Why do you think I wanted a memento—especially one that was guaranteed to get you hot under the collar.”Zane frowned, but Trey wasn’t fooled.“Come on,” he said. “You think I haven’t noticed how much you like my neck tat? You hardly ever nuzzle the other side. It’s always the inked one you’re licking up.”Zane shook his head. “You are too smart for me.”Trey didn’t say of course, just tipped his head endearingly to the side. “Want to christen my cock art?”In case Zane couldn’t figure out what he meant, he poked the tip of his tongue out. That this was a cheap trick didn’t matter. Zane’s groin tightened with excitement.“Yes,” he said huskily. “I want to lick you until you’re dripping . . . and then I want you to fuck me.”Trey’s grin had been widening, but at this it faltered. “Really? I thought you didn’t like being fucked.”Zane had a thing about pitching versus catching, but maybe it was time he got over it. Trey taking him wouldn’t make him less of a man. Trey couldn’t make anyone less than they were.“I want you to,” he said, his ass going weirdly hot. “It wouldn’t hurt you too much, would it? Since your tattoo is still healing?”“Oh boy.” Trey dragged his thumb and fingers down the sides of his expressive mouth. He had long creases there when he smiled, like dimples on steroids.“What?” Zane asked, because Trey looked sheepish. “Should we save this for another night?”Trey shook his head and laughed breathily. “Here’s the thing: If fucking you hurts me a little, it’ll get me extra hot.”Zane didn’t think of Trey as a guy who kept secrets. His face gave him away too easily. Zane’s obvious amazement must have embarrassed him. Trey’s face turned redder than his cockhead.“I don’t mind that,” Zane hurried to reassure him. “I’m just surprised you keptthis to yourself.”Trey didn’t explain why he had. He grabbed Zane’s hands, hauling him off the couch and kissing him thoroughly. Zane enjoyed that, but didn’t forget his agenda.“Phew,” he said, disengaging his tingling lips. Their groins were plastered together, their long naked cocks squashed as close as possible. Zane wondered if his curls were chafing Trey’s waxed skin—and if this was good or bad. Whatever the answer, Trey was revved. His slit was leaking a steady trickle of pre-cum.Loving that, Zane rubbed the moisture slowly across their side-by-side dick heads.Dropping his gaze to watch, Trey bit out a breathless curse. “Stay,” Zane ordered, sitting back on the couch himself.He kept his hold on Trey’s hands, fingers locked to form conjoined fists. Normally, he’d have gripped the base of Trey’s penis before he went down on him, but he trusted him not to over thrust. The gamble had a nice payoff. Trey’s fingers tended to telegraph every shift in his tension. They tightened like iron when Zane’s mouth sank over him.Trey sighed as sweetly as if it were his first time.Zane never lost his enthusiasm for this act. Sucking Trey’s cock was his idea of heaven. Tonight, it looked like his friend wasn’t destined to last long. His moans grew louder, his fingers clenching Zane’s as his thighs knotted. Taking pity, Zane switched to lapping the flat of his tongue up him.Trey’s body undulated from knees to chest.Laughing, Zane sat back with his legs sprawled. His cock could have been a pole planted at his crotch. “You’re not up for teasing right now, are you?”Trey shook his head and panted.Zane was going to do it anyway. Sliding off the couch, he kneeled on the carpet to nip and kiss Trey’s hipbone. Trey had a sexy muscle that swooped and fell around it. Zane mouthed his way along it until he reached Trey’s dragon. With a little prayer that he hurt him the right amount, he pulled his tongue across the slightly hotter skin where the tattoo artist had performed his magic.Once he’d left a trail of wetness, he blew on it.Trey shuddered, fingers gripping Zane’s hard enough to hurt. Zane’s cock began to tremble, sympathetically excited. The tattoo made this better, the knowledge that his lover could not only take the pain but actually got off on it. Maybe this said weird things about Zane’s kinks, but he couldn’t help enjoying that Trey was tough. Again Zane licked, a longer swipe this time . . .Then he dragged his tongue to the very tip of the dragon’s tail.“Stop,” Trey begged, a mere breath of air. “I’m too close to going.” Zane stopped. He wanted Trey to last too. “You ready to take me then?” “I’m ready,” Trey said. “You need a bit of prep.”Zane and Trey’s two-bedroom apartment was their sanctum. They didn’t bring female dates here, and only close friends hung out. Because of this, they didn’t hesitate to stock every room with supplies. Considering how much they liked sex, they never knew where the mood would strike.Trey reached into the end table drawer for KY and Trojans. Tossing them to Zane, he shifted the lamp and table out of their way. Making sure they didn’t trash their belongings was usually Zane’s job. Watching Trey’s arm muscles tighten with the familiar task sent an odd thrill through him.“Stand,” Trey said. His voice was every bit as authoritative as Zane’s could be. “I’m going to fuck you over that couch arm.”Zane stood. His legs were stiff as he moved into the specified position, his forward bend on the padded leather unavoidably awkward. This was Trey’s place, exactly to a T. Zane rested his weight on his elbows, craning his head around as his friend stepped closer.“Good,” Tray praised, sliding both hands around Zane’s butt cheeks. His palms were warm, his caress admiring.He took the lube away from Zane’s hand.Zane had engaged in butt play a time or two—a thumb crooked into his hole to excite him, a lick that skirted the forbidden. Until tonight, that was as far as it went. Trey had never stuck a finger all the way in before, much less one coated in warm lube. Zane must have been readier than he knew. His body didn’t resist the smooth intrusion.“God,” he said, squirming helplessly. His interior tingled around Trey’s knuckles, and his cock had begun to drip. “Jeez, Trey, that feels so good.”Trey bent over to kiss his nape, hot breath stirring the short hairs there. “Want to try another finger before you take my dick?”Zane did and didn’t, his every erotic nerve suddenly impatient. “Yes,” he said, because he had to give some answer.Trey pulled out, squeezed more lube down his crack. His way prepared, he pushed two fingers into him. That was even better. Zane groaned, his spine arching with pure need. Seeming to understand what he wanted, Trey moved his slick fingers. He curved them to match Zane’s passage, their probing almost too gentle. Gentle or not, they felt incredible. In and out they rubbed—deep, slow— sending waves of feeling through his body.Zane gritted his teeth with pleasure, helpless to keep his moans inside. “Tell me, Trey. Why did I . . . wait so long to do this?”Trey laughed and pulled his fingers out, eliciting a small whine from Zane.Paper ripped. Trey had grabbed a towelette packet to wipe his hand.“Nothing wrong with waiting until you’re ready.” To Zane’s relief, Trey’s voice was thick with anticipation. “You’re bound to enjoy it more this way.”Zane was already enjoying it. He still held the box of condoms, his tensed-up hand having crumpled the cardboard. Trey rescued the squashed package and took out what he needed.Unable to resist, Zane turned his head to watch. As graceful as a sculptor smoothing a length of clay, Trey rolled the latex on.“Now I know I’m big,” Trey said, stroking his shaft more than he had to. “I promise you, though, you can take my mighty sword. You don’t have to worry about swooning.”“Fuck,” Zane said, startled into a laugh.Seeing his joke was appreciated, Trey grinned broadly. His mighty sword sheathed and ready, he cruised his hands gently up Zane’s back. “I love you,” he said. “I’m really glad you’re ready
REBECCA’S heart pounded way too fast as she opened the passenger door and hopped out of the delivery van. Her head chef Raoul was driving, taking time off to help her. She owed him big for this, especially since—strictly speaking—he didn't work for her anymore. In the back of the van was his strapping son Dominic. They’d double-parked in the financial district, a busy area of Boston that mixed Colonial buildings and skyscrapers. Because Raoul couldn’t leave the wheel, Dominic was helping her offload her two shrink-wrapped six-foot-tall supply carts. Neatly packed onto the steel shelves was everything she needed for today’s menu. She knew this because she’d checked the contents as obsessively as her brother Charlie used to check his backpack for school.She couldn’t afford to forget anything today. Every detail had to go perfectly.She wiped sweaty palms on her clean black trousers, then grabbed the back end of the first cart to guide it down the van ramp with Dominic. He grinned at he
“I’d be honored,” he concurred.Dominic took his cue with a smoothness that would have done his father proud, pulling out the single chair for Hayworth. Hayworth took it, then let the young man spread his napkin and pour his water. That done, he looked expectantly at her.Rattled but not—she promised herself—shaken, she set the first plate in front of him.Hayworth’s ah of pleasure as she removed the lid was exactly what she’d hoped for.Two fluffy golden potato blinis sat on a clean white plate, one picture-perfect little pancake tipped rakishly atop the other. This base was surmounted by a glistening scoop of tomato confit, which she’d seasoned lightly with roe of cod. Rebecca explained the dish’s contents, stepped back, and allowed him to dig in.Hayworth did so, then swallowed his mouthful. “Oh my God,” he moaned gratifyingly, spooning into the dish again. “That is amazing.”His appreciation was just beginning. He adored her creamy Maine lobster bisque, and pronounced her lamb cho
THE line cooks of the world formed an effective spy network. They worked everywhere, knew everyone, and—most importantly—were bonded by a fellowship of incredibly grueling work. They were like cops in a way, only with knife rolls instead of badges. Nobody understood a cook as well as the guy who stood shoulder to shoulder with him at a blazing hot grill station. Having spent a sleepless night that strengthened her resolve not to give up too easily, Rebecca stumped to her kitchen wall phone at daybreak. Her targets also roused early, so this was a good time to call. Within fifteen minutes, she had the information her plan of attack required. Trey Hayworth’s limo driver, who bought his daily bagel and a cup from a cafe in Faneuil Hall, was ferrying his boss to his new restaurant’s site today. The decor was nearly finished, and Mr. Hayworth wanted to check on it. Rebecca dabbed concealer on her under-eye circles and dressed herself for battle. In her case, this meant throwing a light
“Rebecca,” he said, his tone as serious as the grave, his eyes rising with difficulty to lock on hers. “Believe me when I say I know I’m being inappropriate.”Her mouth fell open as he leaned down. Suddenly, her hands were on his front, not pushing him away but curling into his polo shirt. Boy, if this was how she reacted to a bit of attention, she needed to date more. She was tugging him toward her, and his arms slid warm and strong around her. His chest was broad and steely. As his head came closer, she rose on tiptoe.He licked a swipe up her parted lips, his tongue as soft as a rose petal.Rebecca’s breath shuddered out of her.“God,” he whispered and sealed their mouths together. He tasted like sun-warmed cherries.Rebecca wished he’d kiss her forever.“Mm,” he hummed like he had over her food yesterday. “Mm, Rebecca.” “Mr. Hayworth—“She lost her breath as he hiked her butt onto the worktop. The seat brought their heights closer. He angled his head and kissed her a second time,
She saw everything on his face as his cock slid in: pleasure, wonder, a flicker of being overwhelmed when being wrapped in warmth felt a bit too nice. Thenshe couldn’t keep her eyelids up. The sensation of being filled had to be savored.He didn’t rush his penetration, at least not until the end. Then he groaned and shoved harder, taking the last inch of her.Rebecca thrust upward to grind them both closer.He let out a growling noise, like this was the far side of too much. Even then, he didn’t start thrusting.“Please,” she begged, short nails curling into his shoulders. “Don’t make me wait for more.”His laugh was at least half moan. He did something with one knee that lifted her butt off the hard cool tile. “Hold on tight,” he said. “God, I want this so bad.” She didn’t know why he did, just that she was grateful. He drew back, and then—thank the Lord—he went at her fast: quick strong pumps that tugged her inside and out. She’d never gotten so much clit stimulation from plain old
REBECCA walked down the block and sat in her Versa, staring at nothing. She’d promised Trey she wouldn’t be sorry, but that was easier said than done. He was going to be her boss—probably, hopefully—which meant their relationship ought to stay professional. Now that she’d felt his athletic body pressed up to and into hers, she couldn’t imagine how she’d accomplish that.Not wriggling on the seat was impossible. Having Trey only once would never satisfy her. He’d been an amazing lover: vigorous, intense, with a knack for knowing what she wanted almost before she did. All he had to do was look at her with those hot green eyes, and she’d melt into a puddle.She dropped her head to the steering wheel and groaned. His cock had been lovely: its silky heat in her hand, the skill with which he used it to pleasure her. Her fingers curled at the thought of stroking his shaft again. Worse, they curled at the thought of embracing him.He’d cradled her at the end, as if she were precious. She’d fe
They spent a few hours on demo, getting disgustingly sweaty. After that, Rebecca showered and cooked a nice lunch for everyone. She expected the twins knew this would calm her, because they didn’t volunteer to chop. Their friend Jesse ate more than he talked but seemed knowledgeable about construction. He was a class ahead of Pete and Charlie, and they obviously looked up to him. Just as obviously, he looked up to his father—whose firm Rebecca planned to Google the second the boys left.She didn’t bring up the obvious: that Pete and Charlie could save her money by moving home again. They paid for their housing with part-time jobs because their independence was important. No matter how much she missed them, she had to let them practice leaving the nest.That, however, wouldn’t come to pass today. Relaxed now and happy to have them near, she lingered with the three of them at the kitchen table, sipping coffee while Pete and Jesse teased Charlie about a girl he liked. Given their circums
Mike’s bronzed chest, with a sprinkling of sun-kissed hair, felt familiar and foreign under her finger tips, his hands lifting up under her thickened breasts, face gazing down and marveling, as if looking at a work of art for the first time. When his eyes met hers they were smiling, and he touched her lips with one finger. “I do love you.” Hand on her belly. “And her.”A lump in her throat made it hard to speak, Dylan’s hard, muscled form behind her, leaning against her back and ass. Heady from the touch of both, she tipped her face up and drank in Mike’s words. “I love you, too.” His smile, his mouth, their tongues touching as she was enveloped by manflesh, manskin, the two men who completed her—it made her feel truly, madly, intensely loved.Cherished.Dylan’s words were a trigger for so much more as he nipped her ear and whispered, “I love you, too.” Mike released her and she spun around, arms lifting over his shoulders, his muscled forearms on her back
A palpable tension sat between him and Mike on the car ride up the mountain, a third partner who wasn’t nearly as appealing as Laura. Unresolved emotions, unspoken words, and a sense of uncertainty made the air thick, kept Dylan’s nerves on edge, and finally forced him to blurt out, “I was a total douche. I should never have made us wait to tell her about the money, and I almost blew it, and now here we are with maybe—kinda—sorta—a chance with her, and I don’t want to fuck it up again.”Cringe.“If you’re a douche, I’m a bigger one. Mega douche. Thor the Douche,” Mike bantered back, his voice jovial, but his face serious. Eyes on the road, he seemed to feel the change in the car. They were talking. Really talking, once again.“How do we make this right with her?” Dylan’s words had an urgency, a plaintive tone he could hear in his own voice and hated.Mike shrugged. “I think this time we actually listen to her and Josie and do what Laura wants.”
Mike held the smartphone’s camera up and surveyed the soot-covered room slowly. Laura’s apartment building had just been opened for him and Dylan to come down, the fire investigation completed enough that they permitted residents to remove vital items. The conclusion: an electrical fire that started in the breaker box in the basement, directly under Laura’s place.She was damn lucky. A few more minutes and...well, he wouldn’t be holding a camera streaming live video to her on her smart phone, her sweet face asking questions and giving directions as she rested under a down throw on his couch, looking relaxed and healing nicely.His couch. At the cabin. When the fire investigators told her she wouldn’t be able to go back to her apartment for weeks, if not months, the structural damage too great for people to live there, the news had seemed to crush her. Quick to offer help, he and Dylan had both tried to get her to move in. Cabin vs. apartment?She’d chosen
Barely four hours had gone by since Dylan’s phone call, and Mike had to absorb his first encounter with Dylan since their fight four months ago, seeing the two loves of his life endangered by fire, and now he had just learned that Laura was pregnant with their baby. Their baby. All three of them. He didn’t want to view it as his, or Dylan’s. But he had no idea Dylan felt the same way!Pointing at Dylan, he said, “You, too?”The smile on his partner’s face was so telling, impish and serious all at once in a way only Dylan could pull off. “Me, too. She’s ours. Not yours. Not mine.”Would Laura agree? Mike wasn’t sure. Seeing her there, on her side, radiant and scared, made him want to bar the door and protect her from whatever the world threw her way. Radiant! Hah! Now he knew why she seemed to be glowing when he saw her yesterday at Jeddy’s, through that window.A happy pregnant woman, full of life. Full of his child.His daughter.
A fireball was in her crotch, pushing hard, so hard, to come out. Laura couldn’t breathe, scratching at her neck, trying to claw open her trachea to get air, air, air. Oxygen was gone, her throat spasming as her vagina split open, divided in two, and out came an enormous, glowing-orange sphere, shooting across the surgical room and catching the wall on fire.Screaming, she opened her eyes to find a nurse pushing buttons on some sort of box, a man in scrubs holding her arm down, and six very worried eyes watching her from a few feet away.Eyes she knew.She was on her left side and the nurse had her face in both hands, eyes boring into her. “Laura! Laura! I need you to breathe slowly, to focus. We can’t find the baby’s heartbeat— ”Baby! Heartbeat!“—and the more you panic, the harder it is to get the monitor hooked backup.”Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. The nurse took her through the motions, andLaura calmed
Wah wah wah wah 345 wah, Somerville, Dylan heard, his ears ringing as he sat up fast, the cold night air hitting his bare chest when the down comforter slid to his waist. The dispatcher’s words sounded so familiar.When she repeated the address again, his blood ran cold. Then the words:multi-unit fire.If you had told him even a year ago that he could move that quickly, shove on pants and boots and a jacket, be down God knows how many sets of stairs and out the door and in his car in less than two minutes, he’d have told you were a fool.Tonight? Not tonight, though, because that was Laura’s address the dispatcher just announced, followed by the words multi-unit fire. Blood pumping hard, he fumbled for his phone (thank God it was still in his pants from yesterday) and as he peeled out of the garage he tapped through his Contacts list to Mike.Multi-unit fire.Weaving across two lanes, he sped to her place, the drive inching by s
She snorted. Funny how there already was a third.The lie mattered, but what also mattered was that she had been ready to think about kids, to imagine pregnancy and birth and babies and toddlers and all the roly-poly love that came with them. If she was pregnant—she allowed herself to think in hypotheticals, her hands mechanically shampooing her greasy hair, the feeling of rinsing like a baptism, washing away the past month of dysfunction—then it would be OK.Everything would be OK. To be more precise, it would all work out in the end because she absolutely, positively, undeniably was not pregnant. And couldn’t be. It just wasn’t true, and as long as she willed it to not be true, she didn’t have to face any of the long term consequences of having a billionaire baby daddy.Or two.A quick rinse was all she could manage as her legs and arms felt like jelly, her body shivering no matter how much she turned the shower faucet for more hot water. Time t
“Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead!” Josie shouted, yanking open the curtains in Laura’s bedroom, the pink cloth swaying in a pattern that made Laura’s stomach queasy. Ugh. Bad enough she was exhausted; did Josie really need to make her nauseated, too? The coarse sun blinded her with too much, the glare off the world striking her as so harsh, too unyielding. Give her a nice, grey day with white cloud coverage so she could dip herself back into life.Let her suckle her depression, for it gave her so much comfort. Being a victim meant never having to think through your own actions, not reflecting on regret, and it definitely gave her ample excuse for eating entire pints of ice cream and wallowing in “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” marathons.It had been a month since the guys...well, there wasn’t an easy word for what they’d done to her. The Big Reveal? The Big Not-So-Reveal? Laura’s Public Humiliation? Whatever you called it, a month had passed and somehow she’d survived
The sight of Mike’s back as he began to run away was unbelievable. Dylan stared, mouth open, the keys loose in his palm. The guy was running home? It was at least ten miles, which was nothing for Mike, but he was dressed in jeans, a polo shirt, and Merell shoes—not exactly runner’s clothing in August in Boston. He’d turn into a puddle of goo by the time he crossed the Charles River.Maybe that was the point.Right now, though, he really didn’t have a spare ounce of caring in him for anyone but Laura. How could he have been so callous? Man, he had totally misjudged how she perceived him and his every move. The “It’s always complicated” joke not only fell flat, it seemed to have been the nail in the coffin of any chance they may have had to rewind their botched attempt at waiting for the right moment to tell her about their money. Ego be damned; he could admit when he was wrong. He was man enough. And boy, oh boy, was he wrong.Mike didn’t even want to be in