Amadeo’s sensitive fingertips felt Steffen’s heart beating wildly. When Amadeo covered Steffen’s mouth with his own and slowly, sensuously sucked the lower lip into his mouth, Steffen parted his own lips, too. An enormous shudder wracked Amadeo’s entire body, rolling through him like an earthquake from head to toe. He had his heart’s desire in his hands. And the other man wasn’t pounding him into a pulp.
Steffen kissed him back, his heated snorts coming short and fast against the side of Amadeo’s face. Amadeo lapped his tongue against the backs of Steffen’s teeth and dared to plunge his fingers farther beneath the sopping shirt fabric. When he found the nubbin of the nipple and pinched, Steffen gasped into his mouth.
And shoved him away with his free hand.
“What the hell’s wrong with you, you fucking pervert?” Steffen strained at his bond, but his free hand scrabbled to clutch Amadeo’s shirtfront.
Amadeo had stepped out of reach and now had his hands held up in a surrender gesture. “Dude! Accept my apologies! I’m sorry if I misinterpreted—”
“Misinterpret my ass!” roared Steffen. “We were just talking about bondage clubs, you dirtbag! I wasn’t expecting you to get all up in my grill.”
Amadeo remained contrite. “Apologies! I got carried away, I admit.” He dared to gesture to Steffen grandly, as though presenting a washer and dryer on a game show. “But look at this. Can you blame me? Dude. You’re one smoking-hot sex machine. I’m sorry. You must get that all the time. I apologize if I treated you like an object. I was just carried away by the heat of the moment, talking about bondage and all.”
His apologies—and flattery—worked. The fire was dying from Steffen’s eyes, and he no longer snorted like a lathered horse. He didn’t even seem to notice that one of his wrists was still cuffed to the wall, and the bulge in his crotch had not gone down one centimeter. Amadeo had never been more aroused in his life, with this fine, fuckable quarterback bound to his tack room wall. Steffen was sweating so profusely in the hundred-degree-plus room his denim button-down shirt was plastered to his chest. Amadeo wanted to drop to his knees and lick the salt from between those meaty pecs.
Steffen’s tone had lost most of its anger. “Listen. I’m straight. That’s just the way it is. I’ve been to the Racquet Club, but I’ve only played with a few ladies. I’m a ladies’ man all the way, pal.”
Amadeo dared to approach his old high school mate within punching range. Steffen had dropped his hand to his side now, and he merely looked a bit exasperated. “I understand. I just misread your cues. Most men who go to the club bat for both teams. Most men want to swing both ways to get the maximum enjoyment from the scene.”
Steffen squinted at Amadeo. “You swing both ways?”
“Sure. I love a good muff-diving like the next guy, and who doesn’t like to be edged by that Mistress Tiffany at the club, am I right?”
They were practically back-slapping buddies now, Amadeo could tell. “Okay,” Steffen admitted, “maybe I’ve been groped by a few guys, but who hasn’t. I’m no bugger.”
Who hasn’t? Men who don’t enjoy that sort of thing, that’s who hasn’t. Amadeo must proceed with tact. Now he stepped so close to the quarterback their boners nearly touched again. “Sure, who hasn’t? You’re drunk one night, there are no chicks around, some hot guy comes onto you…”
“Exactly.”
Steffen barely flinched when Amadeo grabbed a nice handful of his bulging dick. “A man needs release. Doesn’t really matter who gives it to him. He just closes his eyes and goes with the sensation. It’s a manly thing, needing release. Women don’t need release like men do. Men get all backed up and cranky if they don’t come all the time.”
Steffen practically laughed now, although Amadeo was expertly massaging his penis. “Blue balls.”
“Right. Men need a good, old-fashioned, mind-blowing orgasm pretty much all the time.” It truly was a pleasure standing this close to his idol, breathing in his musky scent. Steffen Jung was literally woodsy, as though he’d been doing carpentry work. And, of course, the slab of meat filling Amadeo’s palm was making him wild with lust.
“Exactly.” Steffen put his free hand on his hip, as though afraid he might do something else with it. He was going to be one of those men who pretended “it” wasn’t happening, Amadeo could tell. That was fine with him.
Now Steffen allowed Amadeo to lick his jaw line. “Then you won’t mind if I take your long, fat dick into my mouth.” Silence. Pulling back, Amadeo touched the tip of his crooked Roman nose to Steffen’s straight Teutonic one. Steffen’s eyelids quivered and nearly slid shut when Amadeo’s thumb rubbed his cock’s corona. Amadeo just knew when he got to his knees he would see a little wet spot there on the jeans. “I’ll take that as a no. You don’t mind.”
And he got to his knees.
Steffen gasped when Amadeo mouthed the delicious meat—the wet spot—through the jean material. Exhaling, he imbued the entire cock with warmth, and it pulsed enticingly against his lips. He couldn’t waste a second in his seduction of this tasty stud, and his experienced fingers were already flying to undo Steffen’s belt buckle.
Ah. He mouthed the fat cock and balls through the boxer briefs but couldn’t wait to hitch his fingers under the elastic and watch the lengthy penis pop out. When he buried his face in the steamy crotch, inhaling deeply of the masculine, oaky scent, Steffen actually touched the top of Amadeo’s head. Steffen was acquiescing. He even spread his feet far apart on the floor to show his submission to Amadeo. He wove his fingers through Amadeo’s hair and even angled his hips at the other man.
Amadeo twined his tongue around the base of the muscular, veined cock. He lovingly palmed the cockhead, already slick with jism. This was what Amadeo had dreamed of for decades. His mouth watered and he opened wide to take one pebbled testicle into his mouth. Steffen’s hips twitched as he humped Amadeo’s hand, the air. It was too good to be true that he was finally suckling at the balls he’d seen swaying so alluringly in that high school locker room before Steffen had soaped them so thoroughly.
Now Steffen’s hand gripped Amadeo’s skull, urging him to suck his prick. Steffen gasped and grunted as Amadeo tongued his balls. Amadeo was surprised to hear the virile football player snarl so commandingly. “Suck my dick.”
Amadeo obliged. Enough of the teasing. He finally had that tasty meat down his throat, and he put his all into it. He hoovered the length of that colossal meat down his throat, using his throat muscles to massage it. His tongue described fancy curlicues up and down the underside of the pulsating cock. He sucked with such enthusiasm that within a few moments Steffen was gasping with the strangled noises of a man on the edge.
“Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.”
“Mm.” Amadeo knew that his appreciative murmuring would vibrate through Steffen’s straining penis. The urethra bubbled with the roiling semen that was fixing to explode. Amadeo hummed and grunted as he pistoned his head back and forth. He knew his unbridled, bestial sounds added to the lewd, forbidden excitement of the moment. Steffen released a gratifying gusher of jism down his throat.
Steffen’s thighs bunched up so tightly they were like marble pillars. Amadeo gulped to contain the volume of seed spurting forth. The big cock twitched and pulsed with delicious life. Now he relaxed a little and savored the flavor. Big football player must be a vegetarian. As a cattle rancher and avid cocksucker, Amadeo was familiar with the taste of a meat-eating load of semen.
Lost in the bliss of the moment, Amadeo gulped and moaned while wrapping his arms around the naked, sinewy hips. He ran his palms down the velvety slope of Steffen’s lower back. How many times had he imagined doing exactly this against the backdrop of the locker room? Steffen would stand with spread feet spearing that beautiful penis down Amadeo’s throat. Amadeo would swallow every drop of his tasty load. In these scenarios, every other boy melted away from the fringes of Amadeo’s awareness. He was no longer the guitar-playing minority stoner on the outside looking in,
but a worthy participant. A receptacle worthy of receiving such a delicious, holy load.
He had barely finished rimming the slit with his tongue-tip when Steffen shoved him away violently. Amadeo slid on his ass, stunned and hurt. “Uncuff me,” Steffen growled menacingly. Then he tried with one hand to stuff away his long hose of a cock that dangled, purplish and shiny.
“Of course.” Amadeo had to briefly wonder where the keys for those cuffs were. Like Steffen, he had about a hundred keys on a ring at his waist. Then he remembered. Keys for every apparatus in this room were in a pocket inside the tack trunk.
Steffen huffed angrily as Amadeo uncuffed him. Once free, he swiftly walked to the door, finishing buttoning his jeans with his back to Amadeo. Amadeo was sad it had to end this way, but at least now he’d have a real memory instead of some groping teenaged imagining.
Still, he tried. “Steffen—”
Steffen spun about and pointed at the ground. “Mister Jung to you, buddy!”
Amadeo wasn’t about to kowtow. He was a Dom in the lifestyle, and he called no one Mister. “Steffen, I’m not sorry I just sucked your cock. I’d do it again in a hot minute.”
Steffen didn’t even seem to be listening. “No. No.” He jabbed a forefinger at some saddle or other. “This? Never happened.” And he spun back on a boot heel and stormed out the door.
Unshed tears stung Amadeo’s eyes, but he remained stoic. It had happened, after all. He had just drained the penis of the football quarterback. And the quarterback had responded enthusiastically.
Steffen could pretend all he wanted that it had never happened. But how would he react the next time he set eyes on Amadeo?
Chapter Four
“Oh, please, Jaclyn! That guy was so cheap he had a flask of gin in his pocket!” The two women sat at a corner table in the Cavern on the Green vaguely overseeing the installation of the floor linoleum. Willow had chosen a fake rock pattern that she hoped would give the cafe that rubbly, Flintstones look. “And he looked everywhere but at the check when it arrived.”
Jaclyn defended her choice of a double date for Willow. “Robin is a very thrifty man, Willow. That can be a good quality in a man, not a negative one. How else do you think he saved enough to purchase his beautiful home?”
Willow snorted and stirred her chocolate milk with her straw. “Well, I haven’t seen his beautiful home. I’m sure he’s got glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling and Star Wars sheets on his bed.”
“What?”
“Didn’t you hear him talking about his ghost busting society? He seriously goes around looking for ghosts.”
Jaclyn held her pinkie out as she sipped her coffee from the Styrofoam cup. “Oh, I believe that’s some very high-minded paranormal society.”
Willow made a face of exasperation. “Jaclyn. Please. He had a proton pack in his car.”
“That’s some highly scientific instrument that records sensitive data that the human ear can’t pick up. Anyway, Willow. You really blew it by talking about your ex. You know you’re not supposed to talk about your ex on a date.”
“I blew it? Like I care? Jaclyn, Matt was my world for eight years. I can hardly avoid the subject. Besides. Your Robin the Great and Magnificent asked me how long I’d been divorced. I told him. Not yet.”
“Any day now, right? How upset was Matt to hear about your sweet dog?”
Willow squeezed her eyes shut and blew bubbles into her milk through the straw. Frankly, if it weren’t for meeting that stunning and chiseled building inspector yesterday, the entire day would’ve been an utter loss. Steffen Jung had thrown her for such a loop she had even confided in him her darkest most erotic secret—the scene she’d witnessed at Daytona Beach during spring break. That Steffen was experienced in the use of the St. Andrew’s Cross had turned Willow on so heavily she had broken out her old vibrator last night. That vibrator was so ancient it sounded like she was chipping wood in her upstairs motel suite, but she didn’t care how many carpet installers heard her.
That building inspector with the seductive grin had rustled some long-forgotten libido in her. Things had been so bad with Matt for years before she had left, she had really not been stimulated by another man in ages. Then this chiseled drink of water with the Irish accent loped into her motel and had her confessing that she had masturbated thinking of one man sucking another’s cock. It was the fault of that damned menu I found. I seriously want to enact a Horse and Buggy with Steffen Jung…whatever that is. In fact, she now had the menu secreted in her enormous laptop carryall sitting next to her on the upholstered bench seat. Steffen had said he would return today. Something about HVAC, she couldn’t exactly recall. She’d been too busy watching his luscious ass as he left. She was determined to show him the menu, if only to pretend it was a fine example of Desert Modern printing.
“Matt wasn’t very upset, listen, where’d you find that Ronnie Dobbs character? He was a piece of work.”
“Oh, he came by? What do you mean, piece of work? He’s…ah, I believe he’s some associate of Fernando’s.” Fernando was allegedly some sort of handyman. Willow had never seen Fernando be handy at anything other than a remote control, so she couldn’t vouch for that.
“Jaclyn, seriously. Is Ronnie Dobbs a monster truck friend of Fernando’s? Because I could really see that. This guy was really beyond the beyond.”
“What makes you think he must be a monster truck friend? All I know is he claimed to know for a fact that Norman Fell’s watch was in here somewhere.”
“Well, I don’t see where that would be that valuable, Jaclyn, unless Norman happened to inscribe it with his name. Well, luckily that building inspector was here when Ronnie showed up. He scared the whackjob away. I really hope he never comes around again, even if we find that stupid watch. He gave me the creeps.” Willow sighed deeply. “Jaclyn, I kid you not. That inspector was the steamiest thing I’ve seen since…Well, maybe ever.”
Jaclyn’s eyes widened and she scooted closer. “Really? Which building inspector? I’m sure I know him.”
That hadn’t occurred to Willow that Jaclyn would know Steffen. Of course she would, being a realtor. “Steffen Jung. He—”
Willow had the words startled right out of her when Jaclyn slammed the tabletop with her palm. Jaclyn looked to the ceiling for assistance. “Steffen Jung? What a player!” Only she pronounced it “play-uh.”
“What do you mean? You mean, like, he gets around?”
“Gets around? He gets around out of town! That guy is a regular womanizer. Of course he is, look at him! He’s drop-dead gorgeous.” Jaclyn waved her hand in front of her own face as though sprinkling fairy dust. “He’s got those white teeth, that perpetual five-o’clock perfect shadow, that whole Green Lantern thing going on.”
“He was a test pilot?” Unfortunately, Willow knew her superheroes from being married to Matt.
“What? No, I mean he looks like Ryan Reynolds, only more buff. And you wonder why he’s never been married? I’m always suspicious of men who have never been married by the time they hit age forty. Like, what’s wrong with them if they’re not gay? And Steffen Jung is definitely not gay.”
“Thanks for vouching for me, Jaclyn.”
Both women gasped and jumped in their seats. Willow saw by Jaclyn’s startled face that Steffen Jung stood right behind her. Gripping the edge of the table, Willow slowly swiveled. Her eyes met Steffen’s belt buckle first, unintentionally eyeing his package cradled in a fresh pair of 501s. Oh, God. I’m the manizer. I’m the one objectifying him, treating him like a gorgeous piece of meat. Which he is. Forcing an innocent smile onto her face, she looked into his dazzling eyes. Luckily, he had a good sense of humor.
“Oh!” said Jaclyn, flustered. “Hi, Steffen. Oh, don’t mind us. We were just talking about the lack of available men in this town. Saying that, ah, you were one of the only ones. You’re not married, right?”
“Right. Came close a couple times, but never took the plunge. And you’re right. I’m n
ot gay.”
“Oh, ha-ha,” said Jaclyn in a bad attempt at being light. “Just commitment-shy.”
Willow wanted to sink into her newly rocky floor. She had to seize control of the situation. “We were just discussing this horrible blind date Jaclyn set me up on last night. He brought his own booze to the restaurant and he had a jet pack in his back seat.”
Steffen said happily, “All right! A forward-thinking kind of guy. Don’t tell me you’re not racing to repeat the experience, Willow. And women wonder why they never have second dates.”
Willow laughed with relief that Steffen was taking everything so casually—and that he now knew for a fact she was single. “Shall we go look at those kitchen vents? Or whatever you want to see first.”
“Sure.” Steffen even held out a hand for her to take, to help her stand. “But Jaclyn, I’ve got to harass you about that Ronnie Dobbs character you sent over here. He’s a bit unhinged, to say the least.” To Willow he said, “I ran his plates and license number, and he’s right, he probably is the most arrested man in the Coachella Valley. Stuff like aggravated assault, drunk driving of course, drunk in public—mostly stuff a man would do while high or plain crazy, like climbing to the top of the Zippy Super Car Wash sign and resisting arrest. He actually had a show similar to Cops following him around, just on the assumption he’d get arrested again.”
Willow asked, “Is there any truth to the spousal abuse he hinted at?”
A shadow darkened Steffen’s face. “Yeah. Maybe ten arrests for that. Jaclyn, where’d you find this guy?”
Willow crossed her arms. “Let me guess. A monster truck rally.”
The Sublime Miss Paige (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 4