by L. A. Witt
At the other end of the dimly lit men’s room, I rested my hands on the sink and stared at myself in the mirror. For a long moment, I watched the door’s reflection, sure it was going to swing open. But it didn’t. Sean didn’t come in after me. Smart man. At least one of us had his head screwed on.
I released my breath and let my head fall forward. This was stupid. Sean had as much right to be here as I did, and he’d clearly already gotten the attention of some other guy. With any luck, they’d be headed out of the club in no time flat, and that was not jealousy twisting around in my gut.
I closed my eyes. Fuck, I was losing my mind. I really should’ve stuck with the impersonal approach of hookup apps. At least then I could go straight for my target—like, say, the hot cop-firefighter guy—without being thrown off course by another hotter, less resistible man. One I’d already been in bed with enough times to know there was no chance of being disappointed by a sloppy kisser, a malfunctioning penis, or a lack of understanding of basic hygiene.
Rubbing my hand over my face, I sighed. Then I straightened and looked my reflection in the eyes. I was being stupid. Which wasn’t exactly a new thing, but I was going to drive myself crazy if I didn’t change course.
All I had to do was go back out into the club and work up the courage to approach the guy I’d been staring at before I’d noticed Sean. Simple. Maybe not easy, but simple. I could do this. If I couldn’t, well, I could take my ass over to another club and try my luck there.
Deep breath. I had this.
Nervous but determined, I left the men’s room.
Went around the corner.
And stopped dead.
Music still thumped in the background. My heart still pounded in my ears.
From several feet away, Sean stood there like he’d been waiting for me, leaning against the wall with his hip cocked as if he wanted me to think he was casual and relaxed. Eyes narrow and lips quirked, he looked back at me like we were the only people in the building.
We locked eyes for the longest time, just staring at each other. I could almost feel the telepathic dares volleying back and forth between us.
Say something.
No, you say something.
Do something.
I dare you.
Finally, Sean moved. He came toward me. And he didn’t stop.
One second, we were facing each other from across the narrow hall.
The next, my back was against the wall and Sean’s lips were against mine, and God, I missed you.
I wrapped my arms around him and grabbed a handful of his hair. He moaned into my kiss, so I held his hair tighter, and when he shivered, so did I. Damn it, wasn’t this what I’d come to the club to forget?
Oh to hell with it. He was there, I was there, and if his kiss was anything to go by, he wasn’t backing away this time. I sure as fuck wasn’t the rational one, so . . . yes, please. I kissed him deeper and held him closer, and he had me pinned so hard against the wall I could barely breathe. Didn’t even care. Oxygen was . . . whatever.
“I know we shouldn’t do this,” he said. “There’s . . . so many reasons . . . and I . . .” He gripped the front of my shirt and kissed me again, then broke that kiss just enough to murmur, “I need you tonight.”
“You have no idea.” I slid a hand into his back pocket and pulled him closer so he couldn’t possibly miss how fucking hard I was.
Sean whimpered softly and ground his own erection against mine. Holy shit—if this didn’t end in both of us naked and panting, I was physically incapable of the amount of jerking off it would take to make up for it.
What are you doing, Paul? This is Sean. It’s Sean, for God’s sake.
He held the back of my neck and slid the tip of his tongue under mine.
Yeah, it’s definitely Sean. Sweet Jesus . . .
I was out of breath when I broke the kiss. “This wasn’t what I had in mind when I came here tonight.”
Sean nipped at my lower lip. “You came here to get laid, didn’t you?”
“Didn’t come here for the drinks.”
He laughed, and when our eyes met, the gleam in his weakened my knees. “So we both came here for the same thing.”
“Yeah.” I hooked my fingers in his belt loops. “Definitely here for the same thing.”
Except not with you. Anyone but you.
He swept his tongue across his lips.
Holy shit, I need you.
“Let’s get out of here,” he whispered. “Or I’m going to end up fucking you right—”
“Let’s go.”
“You know we shouldn’t do this, right?”
“Of course,” I said as we stopped in front of the motel room door. “But I think we both know we’re going to.”
He glanced down, and I followed his gaze to the key card in his hand. Then we looked at each other again in the low light of the cheap hotel’s hallway.
Now was the time for one of us to put on the brakes. We could still back out. Go downstairs. Turn in the key. Go our separate ways. We’d made it this far before and backed away.
I didn’t say anything. Paul didn’t say anything.
I was too fucking restless to just stand there, so I plucked the key card from his hand and put it into the slot. It took me a couple of tries, but it finally went in, and the green light came on.
No turning back now. Not when I was in the same room as Paul and a bed.
I tossed the key card on the table by the TV. Paul kicked the door shut behind us, pushed me up against the wall, and kissed me hard, and I thought I was going to melt right then and there.
If that wasn’t enough, he started down my neck, and his chin was stubbled and rough against my skin, and I decided there was nothing I wouldn’t do for him tonight if he kept doing that.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head. “You know hooking up now is going to make it that much harder to not hook up in the future, right?”
“Uh-huh.” He kissed his way up the side of my neck. “There’s a lot on the line, but goddamn, I cannot resist you.”
I sucked in a breath, gripping his shoulders tighter. “Guess we might as well give in, right?”
“That’s what I’m thinking.” He lifted his head and met my eyes. “I sure as hell don’t want to stop.”
“Then why are we stopping?”
Paul grinned, then kissed me, and we definitely weren’t stopping.
Okay, so even with my head spinning and my dick hard, I knew that was all crazy talk. Once we’d both satisfied these erections and could think for a minute or two, we’d realize how stupid this was. We’d catch our breaths, we’d get dressed, and we’d agree to go our separate ways again. But for now, with his body against mine and his lips exploring every inch of my neck, it seemed like a pretty good idea.
Clothes started coming off. My shirt tangled in our feet and nearly tripped us both, but we recovered. I was pretty sure we ripped a seam on Paul’s shirt, but he didn’t seem to care, so I didn’t either.
The smart thing to do—besides not doing it at all—would be to have a quickie, be done with it, and get out of there.
Nope. Feet planted, we held each other close and kissed like we had all night, and tomorrow night, and the one after that. Any other night, I’d have been balls-deep in him by now, but I hadn’t even kicked off my shoes. Fine by me. If this was going to be the last time I was in bed with him, then hell yes I was going to savor every minute.
Paul slid his hands into my back pockets—I fucking loved when he did that—and pulled me close, rubbing his erection against mine. “I’m sweaty from that damn club. Could go for a shower.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm. Want to join me?”
I grinned against his lips. “How is that even a question?”
Paul laughed. He kissed me once more, then took my hand and led me to the bathroom.
A lifetime of trying to do the right thing and toe the line of being a Navy dependent should’ve stopped me, but none of that held a candl
e to how much I wanted and needed Paul. Doing the right thing could wait a little longer.
I glanced up at him, meeting his eyes, which were gleaming with lust. My mouth watered.
Why did I think this was a bad idea again?
Oh right. Commanding officer and . . . stuff. Something.
Whatever.
I tugged at his belt.
We stepped into the shower together, and yeah, doing the right thing could definitely wait. Really, how much more hot water would we get into by making out under this hot water? Nobody had to know.
I sent up a little prayer that the motel had one of those water heaters that would last forever, because I loved this. Everything about it. His hands in my hair and on my skin. The friction of his hip rubbing against my erection. His thick cock in my hand. And holy fuck—his kiss. It was hard to comprehend that there was anything wrong with letting Paul taste and touch and kiss like we had all night.
I loved that we weren’t in a rush. There was a different flavor of urgency this time. It wasn’t an orgasm I was after. I wanted tonight to be burned into both our memories. If this was the last time I was going to touch him—and God knew it needed to be—I wanted to remember everything.
I ran my hands all over him, taking in every contour of his muscles and the curve of his spine. The edges of some of his tattoos were raised slightly, and I traced them with my fingertips, following all the lines and curves and corners. Now and then, I stroked him or teased his balls to keep him on his toes and turned on, but he sure didn’t seem to be losing interest. Not when his cock was that hard and his breath was coming in rapid, uneven gasps like mine.
His hands were all over the place too. For the first time, I actually regretted not having a tattoo, because it meant I didn’t have some design for him to trace like I was doing with his. On the other hand, I couldn’t complain about smooth, warm palms and talented fingers roaming all over my body. Sometimes he combed them through my hair. Sometimes he cradled my neck or my face. Every now and then, both hands drifted down over my ass, like they did when he was sliding them into my pockets as he pulled me against him and his very, very hard cock.
Kneading my ass cheeks with his strong fingers, he dipped his head and kissed my neck. “Not getting cold, are you?”
Cold? It took a second for me to remember where we were. That we were still standing in the shower with water pouring over us.
“No. Not cold.” I bit my lip as his stubble scraped the front of my throat. “Not at all. You?”
“No. But . . .” He lifted his head. “I think that’s enough showering for one night.” He reached past me and shut off the water. “Let’s go in the bedroom so we can fool around without slipping and busting our asses.”
“Oh, I like that idea.” Why did I sound drunk? Why did I feel drunk? I opened my eyes and looked him up and down. Probably because I’m standing here naked with a gorgeous, soaking-wet man whose cock definitely needs some immediate attention.
We stepped out of the shower, dried off enough that the sheets wouldn’t wind up wet, and then moved toward the waiting bed.
Just before we reached it, Paul stopped me and pulled me into a kiss, and a moment later, he broke that kiss and went to his knees. I couldn’t breathe even before his mouth was around my dick. I combed my fingers through his graying hair, my knees wobbling because I was so fucking turned on. Anything I could do to myself with my hand was nothing compared to the things Paul could do with his hand, lips, and tongue. Or maybe I was just that horny. Or maybe both. Whatever.
He held on to my hips and went to town on me, deep-throating and licking and squeezing with his lips. He moaned around my cock, and I shuddered. Too late, I realized I’d forced myself deeper into his mouth, but he didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t gag, and kept right on teasing me.
Then he got up and gestured for me to lie down. I did, and he got on the bed, but didn’t lie beside me. My way-too-aroused-for-thinking brain couldn’t understand why we weren’t wrapped up in each other’s arms and making out. Why he was moving away from me, turning—
He settled on his side, his very erect cock inches from my face, and took my cock between his lips.
Oh. God. Yes. Message received.
As much as I usually loved sixty-nining—Jesus fuck, I loved sixty-nining—it was actually a little frustrating with Paul. His mouth was unbelievable, and I couldn’t concentrate on what I was doing to him when he was turning me on like this. I kept losing myself in the things he did with his lips and tongue. Kept forgetting what I was supposed to be doing with mine.
“You’re so good at that,” I breathed.
“Likewise.”
“I would be if you weren’t so distracting.”
He laughed, then ran his tongue around the head of my cock.
Still stroking him, I let my head fall back. “Fuck . . .”
He gave a quiet moan—maybe even laughed—but didn’t stop what he was doing. I went down on him again. The second my lips touched his dick, he groaned, his voice thrumming against my skin, and my concentration was shot all over again.
“You are so . . .” I squeezed my eyes shut as he made another circle with his tongue. “Distracting.”
Paul chuckled. “Sounds like a compliment.”
“Uh-huh. But it . . . makes it kind of hard to . . .” Fuck, how do you do that? “I want to . . . Oh God.” I shivered. “You’re gonna . . . make me come.”
He stopped abruptly and looked up at me, grinning as he kept stroking. “Can’t have that, can we?” Paul shifted back around so we were facing the same direction again, and frustration kicked in for a couple of seconds, but didn’t last long. Not when he was gazing at me with that gleam in his eyes. He kissed me, and I didn’t protest because my God his talented mouth wasn’t only good for sucking dick. The way he kissed drove me wild even more than the way he went down on me. Jesus, but I was going to miss this. I’d been with a few guys who loved kissing, but no one who liked it as much or was as good at it as Paul.
Guess I should’ve been dating older guys before. Something to be said for experience.
I broke the kiss and swept my tongue across my lips. “I want to fuck you.”
He shivered and nodded. “Yes, please.” He was so out of breath, and even that made my head spin, especially when he panted, “Nobody fucks like you do.”
I squirmed in his arms. “Condoms?”
“Plenty.” He kissed me quickly and added, “Should I get one?”
“Oh yeah.”
He was on his feet so fast, I almost didn’t see him move. Chuckling, I joined him, and by the time I was off the bed, he’d fished the condoms and a small lube bottle from his jeans.
He started to lie back on the bed, but I stopped him.
“No. Stay standing.” I tore the wrapper with my teeth. “And bend over the bed.”
“I like where this is going.”
“Figured you would.”
He did as he was told, and I poured some lube in my hand. After I’d smoothed plenty onto the condom, I put some on him too. He swore under his breath as I pressed two fingers into his hole.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just . . .” He rolled his shoulders and shifted his weight. “God, Sean, I don’t want your fingers.”
“What?” I added a third. As I fucked him slowly with my hand, I said, “Have to make sure you’re ready and—”
“Goddamn it.”
“Eager, are we?”
He grumbled something as he spread his legs wider. Then, clearer, “Just fuck me already.”
My spine tingled with pure arousal. Even if it made me a selfish bastard or a complete idiot—probably both—I couldn’t deny that knowing who Paul was made this even hotter. Everyone on base stood up straight and saluted him, and I had him bent over and begging for my dick.
I slid my fingers free and put some more lube on the condom. Then I positioned myself behind him. He didn’t move while I guided myself in, but as soon as the h
ead of my cock slid into him, his whole body responded. His back arched and his shoulders bunched as if he could contain that shudder. He groaned softly, rocking back against me as his fingers curled around handfuls of sheets.
Any other night I might’ve tried to regain control. Maybe held his hips, fucked him slowly, teased him for the hell of it.
Tonight? Forget it. I fell into sync with him, and drank in the sight of his powerful body and my dick sliding in and out of him. Didn’t matter how much I’d jerked off recently—fucking him now, for real, was overwhelming as hell.
Pressing my lips together, I held my breath because I didn’t want to come too fast. I didn’t know why I bothered, though—I could already feel my orgasm building, building, building. I was either going to come fast or pass out, so to hell with it.
I put my hands on his shoulders and dragged my nails downward, leaving eight red lines and making him release whispered profanity like only a career Navy man could string together. God, yes—I loved turning him on.
I wanted to make this last, but couldn’t resist picking up more speed. The temptation was too much, especially when I knew how he’d moan and arch when I dug my fingers into his hips, released my breath, and fucked him good and hard. He didn’t disappoint. His head fell forward. His shoulders tensed and rippled. A heavy breath. A soft curse. A low, throaty groan. This might not last long, but I’d sure as hell remember it.
“Fuck,” I breathed. My head spun. I forced myself into him so hard he dropped onto his forearm. I lost my balance too, and had just enough presence of mind left to plant a hand on the bed beside him. That kept me from falling farther, so my brain went right back to the most important thing—getting as deep into Paul as I could before I came.
Much too fast, I was there—shuddering, groaning, burying myself as deep as he could take me and riding the release of so, so much need and frustration.
It’s only been like two weeks. Why the fuck does it feel like it’s been years?
Didn’t matter. It did. And finally, I’d had him again, and I’d come in him again, and now maybe I could breathe again.
Except he hadn’t come yet. Had to do something about that. Stat.