by Cate Ashwood
Woody’s was located on the edge of Jacksonville, a little under an hour and a half away from home. The exterior was nondescript and, had Matt not been looking for it, he probably would have continued driving right past without a second glance. It looked more like a warehouse or a factory than a club, but the little dot on Matt’s GPS was blinking in the right spot, so he assumed he’d found the place he was looking for.
After parking next to a blue Impala, he climbed out and stretched his legs before crossing the parking lot. Matt could hear the music getting louder as he approached. A group of men stood outside, smoking in a tightly clustered group next to the door. Matt nodded at them as he passed, and seven sets of eyes ran up and down his body as he pulled open the door and stepped inside.
“Evening,” the guy behind the counter said. He couldn’t have turned twenty-one any earlier than yesterday, but the accent and the dimples made Matt smile. He’d never get tired of hearing that accent. “You here alone tonight, honey?”
“Yeah, just me.”
“Nine bucks.”
When Matt pulled his wallet from his back pocket, there was a cool spot in the fabric of his shorts from where it had been for the last hour and a half. He paid the fee, and the guy beamed at him with a crooked smile as Matt added a couple of singles to the tip jar.
“Go on in.”
A Britney Spears song pounded, almost too loud to make out the melody, the bass drumming the beat in Matt’s bones as he made his way down the short hallway, past the coat check, and into the main area. The interior stood in stark contrast to the outside. Anything but drab and boring, lights flashed and almost every surface glittered. There was a stage at the back of the room, illuminated in blue and purple, and the bar that ran along one full wall was clad with men in different levels of undress.
This wasn’t Matt’s usual style of watering hole—not that he was complaining about the buffet of bare skin on display—but even when he lived in San Francisco, sowing his wild oats, barely legal and ready to get laid, he’d preferred to stick with places that were a little more subdued. Matt discovered he could just as easily find someone pretty and willing in a sports bar as he could the most flamboyant club in the city, and his two left feet and lack of any rhythm whatsoever meant he was more comfortable leaning against a table pretending to watch football than he was shaking his ass to Beyoncé.
The bartender leaned forward, bracing his weight against the bar in a way that made the long, corded muscles of his arms stand out. “What can I get ya?”
That was a loaded question.
“Just a beer please. Whatever you got on tap.” It wasn’t the answer he’d wanted to give, but imagining how many times in a night the guy got propositioned kept Matt from voicing his thoughts. Didn’t keep him from looking, though.
“You got it.”
When he was done pouring, Matt took the glass from him, the head overflowing and coating his fingers in froth. Matt thanked him and handed over more money than should be legal to charge for domestic beer. The moment he took a sip, though, it was more than worth it. He hadn’t realized how the heat from outside had clung to him until he felt the cool liquid pour down his throat and settle in his belly. Halfway through the glass, one thirst was quenched.
Now to see about the other.
He took stock of everyone in the immediate vicinity. To his left there was a bachelorette party of some kind. Definitely not. To his right, though, was a group that held much more promise. Four guys in their mid-to-late twenties stood clustered around a high bar table. One of them looked up, his gaze drifting up and down Matt’s body in blatant perusal. Hair the color of scorched wood matched perfectly with his dark eyes. Letting his gaze drift down the guy’s body, Matt noticed the well-defined muscles and dark chest hair peeking over the top of his T-shirt, the fabric puckering slightly as it stretched across pierced nipples.
Matt lifted his eyebrow in an unspoken invitation.
He watched as the guy said something to his friends, then stalked over to where Matt stood. His expression was predatory.
“Hey.” His voice was deep and rumbling. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Matt regarded his nearly empty glass thoughtfully. The excursion hadn’t been planned, and once he’d decided to come, he’d intended to drive home that night. Getting pulled over and slapped with a DUI before he even started his new job probably wouldn’t go over very well at his precinct… but he had only had one. He lifted his glass and tipped back the final mouthful of beer before lowering it back down.
“Sure, that’d be nice.”
The guy gestured toward the bartender, who nodded tersely before grabbing two glasses and setting them on the counter.
“I’m Jeremy.”
“Matt.”
“You’re not from around here, are you, Matty?”
Matt cringed at the nickname. Fuck, he hated the small-talk portion of the evening. It never seemed to get any less awkward. Not that Matt did the whole anonymous-hookup thing all that often, but all the preliminary getting to know you stuff that took place before the dick sucking kind of seemed like a waste of time. It was the necessary dance, he supposed, before the dancing he was actually interested in.
He accepted the beer from Jeremy before he answered. “No. New transplant. You?”
“I’ve lived in Jacksonville for the last three years. I’m just about to finish my junior year at Florida State.”
Matt resisted the urge to ask him what his major was. So cliché. Turned out, he didn’t have to. Jeremy told him all about the path to earning his degree in information technology management. In the first five minutes, Matt learned more than he’d ever wanted to know about what a promising and quickly changing field it was, and how fulfilling a career it would eventually be.
He felt like he’d stepped into an infomercial for one of those distance-learning colleges he’d seen on TV. He nodded as politely as he could, zoning out after the first few sentences while trying to look adequately interested in what Jeremy was saying.
Briefly, Matt wondered if he should just courteously extricate himself from the conversation. Jeremy seemed like a nice enough guy, but he was obviously looking for something Matt wasn’t, and leading the guy on seemed cruel. How transparent would it be to check his phone for a nonexistent text and fake a family emergency?
Jeremy wasn’t the type Matt usually went for. There was a bit too much gel in his hair, and there was something vacant in the way he looked at Matt. It wasn’t just that he was boring or self-involved. There was no chemistry, no pop or sizzle, or whatever it was that made Matt’s dick hard and his blood pound.
He should have just stayed home, maybe chewed some ice to cool down, and gone to bed. Driving an hour and a half to hear about the exciting and constantly evolving world of technology now seemed insane. He smiled politely one last time, and as he did, his eyes darted up, locking his gaze with a man a few feet away.
Leaning with one foot planted against the wall was a guy who made Matt’s stomach clench and his pulse race. He looked at Matt openly, unabashed, appraising. Smooth, tanned skin stretched over lean muscles coupled with a relaxed confidence grabbed Matt’s attention. The guy lifted his bottle of beer to his lips and took a swig. Watching him swallow was borderline erotic, and Matt was hard in his shorts, hyperaware that there was nothing more than a single thin layer of cotton keeping his dick in check.
The beer bottle lowered once more, and the guy was still staring at Matt. All the air-conditioning in the world wouldn’t help. Matt’s skin was heated, and his fingertips tingled with the need to put his hands on him. It was a pull stronger than anything he’d felt in a long time. Maybe it was because it had been so long. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the need for something familiar in a place that was so new to him. Whatever it was, Matt was already desperately aroused and teetering on the edge of losing his mind.
“… so I’m all but guaranteed a position at my father’s company in—”
“So s
orry, Jeremy. You’ll have to excuse me. An old friend of mine is here.” The lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly. A brief moment of shock registered on Jeremy’s face, but Matt was already breezing past him, making his way directly toward the man leaning against the wall.
He watched Matt approaching, interest and a hint of a challenge painting his features.
“You wanna dance?” Matt asked, crowding in just a little too close.
“I don’t dance.”
“Neither do I.”
Matt held out his hand, nervous for a moment, then gratified when the guy reached out and took it. He laced their fingers together and pulled him toward the dance floor. It was foreign territory for Matt, who hadn’t danced since his first weekend at the academy, but the need to feel this guy’s body against his was staggering.
They found a spot near the side, a dark recess of space where it wouldn’t much matter if they kept the beat or not. That was good. Matt didn’t give a shit about the beat. He pulled the other man into his arms. That was good too. He slid his hands down, his fingers skimming the valley between his muscles on either side of his spine. What Matt would have given to feel him without the shirt in the way.
“You got a name?” Matt asked.
“John.”
Matt smiled. Such a common name for a guy who was anything but common.
John molded his body against Matt’s, not seeming to care in the least that Matt’s hands had drifted down to his ass. The music pumped around them, something techno, or maybe dubstep? Matt had no idea. He was out of touch with what was considered cool. He didn’t really care. All his focus was on John and the obvious erection pressed against his hip.
They moved together, and as far as Matt could tell, it was close enough to actual dancing that anyone looking might think that’s all it was, but Matt knew different. This was foreplay. John’s hands had found their way under Matt’s shirt, his fingertips slipping down beneath the band of Matt’s shorts to clutch at his ass. Matt dipped his head forward, bringing his mouth dangerously close to the curve of John’s neck. He wanted to lick a path along it, to taste the saltiness of John’s skin. Instead, he inhaled the scent of him.
He smelled like wood and outdoors and fucking sex. Matt wanted to bury himself in that smell.
“I think your boyfriend’s jealous,” John said as he slid one hand against the small of Matt’s back, as if he didn’t care who was watching, as if unwilling to let Matt get away now.
“What?” Matt was disoriented, drunk off the feeling of John’s body grinding against his.
“That guy,” John said with a nod across the dance floor. “He’s staring daggers at us.”
Matt turned them and glanced over John’s shoulder to see Jeremy glaring at them.
“I met him ten minutes ago.”
The roll of John’s laughter reverberated through Matt’s sternum. Matt held him closer, and now he gave in to temptation, brushing his lips, mouth open, across the skin just below John’s ear. The amusement of moments before disappeared, replaced with the rumble of a groan, the sound shooting straight to Matt’s cock.
“Maybe he just likes to watch.” He’d barely finished the sentence before John’s mouth was on Matt’s, any trace of hesitation long gone as John kissed him. Matt opened for him, letting John slide his tongue inside. John’s fingers were tangled in Matt’s hair, and their bodies were pressed together, knees, cocks, chests, and mouths, like they couldn’t get close enough. Matt wanted to crawl inside him, let John own him from inside out, and he didn’t give a shit who saw. They kissed for hours, or maybe minutes, Matt had no idea, but when they pulled back to breathe, John’s eyes were dark. It could have been the dim light, but Matt wanted to believe John was just as turned on as he was, just as needy.
This time, John made the invitation Matt had been waiting for since the moment he’d spotted him. “You wanna get outta here?”
Matt didn’t need to be asked twice. “Fuck yes.”
Chapter Three
AFTER AN hour in the club, John had been about to give up, see if he could hook up on Craigslist or one of the apps on his phone. Spring break was in full swing, so most of the college boys had left for Daytona, and the summer tourist season hadn’t started yet. John’s normal spots were down to locals and a few straggling travelers. Jacksonville had a few gay bars, but there were only so many willing men in a ninety-mile radius from him. His options were limited. Especially considering his preference for one-night stands.
But things were looking up. As he pulled the guy—the first guy to spark his interest in weeks—outside, John couldn’t help the slow grin that spread across his face. Once he got to the parking lot, though, under the bright lights and out in the open, John instinctively pulled back a bit. Living in a closet his whole life had made him overly cautious of touching other men in public, even men he wouldn’t fuck for a million dollars. But especially men like this. The men who made his cock ache just from looking at them. “You got a place?”
“Well, I do, but it’s pretty far. Another state far.”
John reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out the pack of smokes he’d taken from Chloe the day before. “Yeah, I kinda figured,” he said. When the guy quirked a brow—amusement? Curiosity? John wasn’t sure—he explained, “Your accent.”
“Right.” After a quick beat, before John could say anything else, the guy said, “I’m Matt, by the way.” As he said his name, Matt leaned closer, maybe trying to pick up where they left off on the dance floor.
John nearly flinched, but he managed to smile again. “Not out here,” he said, taking a step back. “Matt,” he added. He wondered if Matt was his real name or if he just used it for cruising. Didn’t really matter either way, though. “I mean, it’d probably be fine, but the last thing I need is for one of my momma’s church ladies’ neighbor’s cousins or some shit to see me making out with some guy in a parking lot, ya know?”
“Yeah. Still getting used to the idea of people not being quite as accepting…. People back home mostly don’t give a shit.”
John snorted a laugh. “Mine would lose their damn minds.” He was about to light his cigarette, but first he asked, “You mind if I…?”
“Oh no, go for it.”
If Matt had said it was a deal breaker, John probably would’ve put the pack away. His dick was thinking for him now, and it didn’t need the nicotine to function properly. “My place is a bit of a drive.” Not that he’d bring a guy home anyway, but Matt didn’t need to know that. “But I know a decent motel around the corner. Walking distance.” He started to turn, nodding toward the corner, slowing just enough for Matt to follow.
Truth be told, the motel was his usual spot for quick and dirty anonymous encounters. Close enough to the bar to be convenient, and close enough to the airport to be cheap. Too bad the Stay-N-Sleep Motor Inn didn’t offer points for frequency. John could’ve earned a few free nights by now.
Matt kept pace with him as they headed down the block. When they stopped to wait for the crosswalk signal at the intersection, John wished he could simply reach over and pull him into another one of those scorching kisses they’d shared in the club. He knew there were places in the world where no one would give them a second glance, but even Jacksonville wasn’t one of them, let alone Magnolia Ridge. “How long are you in town for?” he asked, killing time while the traffic rushed past them.
“Just moved out here from San Francisco,” Matt said. “Not out here here, but—”
The light changed for them before Matt could go on. He and John crossed the street quickly. John wasn’t trying to be rude, but he really didn’t need to know Matt’s life story. He’d probably never see the guy again after tonight, and even if he did, they had more interesting things to do.
After they rounded a corner, they approached the motel parking lot. “You wanna just hang here for a sec while I go and get checked in?”
If Matt was bothered by it, he didn’t let on. “Yeah, sure
.”
“Five minutes, tops.” John turned on his heel, crushing his cigarette butt in the ashtray by the lobby doors.
ONCE INSIDE the room, John knew from experience things could go down one of two ways. They could sit around in awkward conversation and enjoy the AC for an hour before getting back on track, or they could fall right back into step where they left off earlier.
As the door clicked shut behind them, John turned and pressed Matt against it, pinning his body to the cool metal.
Matt let out a small rush of breath but didn’t comment as he wrapped his arms around John’s waist and slid one hand down his back.
“They need to start renting rooms at the club,” John whispered heatedly, dropping his head to trail his tongue against Matt’s neck. “Wanted to fuck you right there on the dance floor.”
Matt skimmed his hands under John’s shirt, pushing it higher until John pulled back just enough to tug it off and drop it on the floor. “I know what you mean,” Matt said, his voice breathy and raw with need. He drew his fingertips in a long line over John’s chest, exploring the muscles, the tanned skin there.
When Matt leaned in and scraped his teeth over John’s collarbone, John couldn’t help but moan, his body restless, impatient. He reached between them, jerked the button open on Matt’s shorts, and pushed them lower on his hips. “You always go commando?” he asked, glancing down to see Matt’s cock jutting out, thick and rigid, precome glistening at the head.
“Not always, n—” Matt’s words seemed to die in his throat as John ran the back of his knuckles in a gentle stroke up the shaft of Matt’s erection.
“Well, I’m glad ya did tonight,” he said, his voice seductive and raw. There were so many things he wanted to do, he couldn’t decide where to start. He settled for sliding his free hand up Matt’s side, pushing his T-shirt up so he could lean in and taste Matt’s skin again, nip with his teeth. He could feel Matt’s hands on him, roaming over his shoulders, tangling into his hair. “I like the way you touch me,” he whispered, lifting his head again, covering Matt’s mouth with his own as he wrapped his rough fingers around Matt’s cock and gave him the first firm stroke.