He was saved by a brief knock on the door. One rap, that was it, but it was enough to divert their attention. This would give him enough time to gather his thoughts as Willow rose and went to Cesar Romero’s door.
“Who is it? This door doesn’t open.”
Ronnie Dobbs. Steffen rose too, and moved her aside. “Yeah, who is it?”
“Amadeo Barbieri. Steffen? Is that you?”
“Yeah. Hey, come through the utility room next door. I’ll meet you in there.”
Willow followed at his heels like an eager puppy. “Is that him? The rancher? Amadeo is his name? What does he want over here? Did you already tell him about my fantasy?”
When Steffen stopped walking, Willow bumped into him. He gripped her by the shoulders. “Don’t worry—I would never betray your confidence. I didn’t tell him. It was just an idea that occurred to me—”
“Tell me what?”
Amadeo Barbieri was in the utility room, literally larger than life. Steffen was a relatively tall guy, about six one, but Barbieri loomed even larger. He still wore those chaps that buttoned up the sides and nestled his impressive cock and balls in the crotch of his jeans, and today he even slapped a cowboy hat against his powerful thigh. His father may have been an old school Italian, but Amadeo was all-American down to his leather vest and cowboy boots. Steffen wouldn’t have been surprised if Amadeo had ridden a horse up here.
Steffen tried to save the day. “Tell you how much the St. Andrew’s Cross was appraised for.” He remembered that Amadeo had said something about wishing to purchase Willow’s cross for the Racquet Club.
Willow looked confused, but Amadeo strode right over to the contraption and put his hands on his hips, assessing it. Then he rattled one of the cross-braces. “Looks well-constructed. Nicely padded, too.”
“Oh, excuse me. Amadeo, this is Miss Willow Paige. She owns the Searchlight.” As the two shook hands, Steffen continued, “I believe we just decided she doesn’t want to sell the cross, though, unfortunately. She’s got other plans for it.” He examined Willow for signs of her approval of Amadeo, but one could never tell with women. They could be smiling and bestowing favor on some guy they wouldn’t give the time of day to.
“Yes,” Willow said brightly, “we decided to stash the cross and all the other bondage junk in the Gadabout Gaddis Cottage.”
Amadeo laughed incredulously. “Gadabout Gaddis? Hey, wasn’t he that TV fisherman from the old days who used to throw his cigarette butts—”
Steffen started to laugh. Amadeo had a playful side that he enjoyed. He wasn’t chagrined about not being able to purchase the cross, or intrigued to know what other “bondage junk” Willow referred to. No, he was more interested in an amiable old fly fisherman.
“Willow.” Suddenly Jaclyn was poking her head in the door, waving her cell phone. “I’ve got Fernando on the line. He’s got some news you might want to hear.”
“Oh,” said Willow pertly. She looked at Amadeo. “Excuse me. I’m sorry about the cross. We just came up with this new idea just now. Yesterday I would’ve been glad to sell it to you. I’ll be right back.” Willow went into the hallway and took the phone from Jaclyn.
Amadeo raised an eyebrow. “New idea? Are you planning to give the Racquet Club a run for its money? It’s only four blocks away.”
Steffen wasn’t prepared for the enormous impact just standing next to Amadeo had on him. While of course his cock had erected when he had kissed the shapely Miss Paige, now a tingle of a more forbidden nature now swept through his pecker and balls. He felt as though he knew what was on this strapping buck’s mind as he crossed his arms. It did look as though Amadeo had popped a couple of shirt buttons just on the strength of those bulging pecs alone. His chest looked shaven, too, creamy and hairless. Steffen reddened to know he’d been caught looking at another man’s chest.
“No, no, just some new idea to remodel a separate cottage. Come in here.”
“Whoa!” Amadeo grinned widely in appreciation of the burgundy brocade room. Even the walls were lined with a dark gold-flocked paper that made even a teetotaler like Steffen want to shake up a martini. “Ole Cesar Romero’s been up to the devil’s work. Nice spanking bench.”
“Well, I don’t think we know this was Cesar’s room for sure,” Steffen said. “Willow just decided to call it that. Listen, Amadeo.” Now that he said the name aloud, it did sound familiar. Steffen couldn’t place it. Amadeo’s father Salvatore had no doubt mentioned his son’s name before. “Listen. What do you think of Willow Paige? She’s pretty, isn’t she?”
Amadeo looked at Steffen, low and dark. “Bro. You don’t have to warn me away from her. You saw her first. The spoils of victory and all that.”
“No, that’s not it. The thing is, we were talking yesterday before I went to your place. She mentioned a fantasy she’d had.”
Amadeo moved closer, clearly intrigued. His ripe, sweaty scent wasn’t out of line with what Steffen knew of him, his job. He’d been on a horse all morning. Of course he was sweaty and smelled of cowhide. “Fantasy, eh? Women do have the most interesting fantasies. What was it?”
“Well, ah…” Steffen should be accustomed to discussing prurient things frankly. He did it often—just with other women, not men. He got it out all in a rush. “She wants to see two men getting it on.”
“Well, now,” Amadeo said lewdly. He circled Steffen, examining him from all angles. His cowboy hat was slung from a corner of the spanking bench casually, as though he roamed in rooms like this all the time, which he probably did. “That does sound like a juicy proposal. And she wants to see us?”
“Well, I didn’t get around to making a concrete proposition, although I did mention you, yeah.”
“Did you mention what we did yesterday? Oh, wait. That never happened.”
Steffen burned with both anger and embarrassment. “No. That’s the part that might come as a shock to her. Listen, Amadeo. I just want to make her happy. I really value this woman. I want to make her dream come true.”
Amadeo grabbed Steffen’s jaw and held him tight. “Admit it. You enjoyed it.”
Steffen wrapped his fingers around Amadeo’s wrist but didn’t yank the hand away. “I admit nothing, you asshole. I just want to make Willow happy.”
Amadeo grinned with delight. “You just want me to suck your cock again. You just can’t wait to sink your dick down another man’s hot, hungry throat.”
It was probably just Amadeo’s dirty talk, but he was right—Steffen’s cock lengthened and engorged against his thigh. “Doesn’t matter to me who’s doing the sucking. Long as it’s good.”
Amadeo let go of his jaw but still stared down at him, so close Steffen was slammed by his body heat. “Does it have to be that particular way to indulge her fantasy? Did she specify she wanted to see you get your cock sucked by a muscular cowboy?”
Steffen chuckled. “Of course not. She just saw two men in an alley once, one on his knees sucking the other.”
Amadeo grinned now too. “So we’ll turn the tables. That’s what you learn in the lifestyle. Give people what they don’t expect. Keep people on their toes. That’s why I’m a switch.”
“A switch?”
“I can switch between dominance and submission. Doesn’t matter to me—it’s whatever fits the particular scene we’re in.” Amadeo gripped Steffen’s jaw again and planted a giant, openmouthed kiss on him. Steffen was surprised to find himself melting. Instead of being affronted or hauling off and punching the guy, he swooned into it, the way a woman would. He even clung to the lapels of Amadeo’s leather vest and humped Amadeo’s thigh like a dog.
Amadeo broke the kiss with a smacking sound. “Sometimes I like to suck cock. Sometimes I like to get sucked.” He took Steffen’s hand and pressed it to his hard-on, cradled so enticingly between the chaps. It was an alien feeling for Steffen, but not unwelcome. It was thrillingly foreign to have his hand cupping someone else’s dick, and he reveled in the feeling, measuring the length with his palm, feeling
that the breadth was less than his. He shivered when he humped the chaps-clad thigh. Knowing that Willow would bust back into the room at any moment made the naughty aura even more forbidden.
Amadeo grinned crookedly. “You like that, huh? You like squeezing my dick, don’t you? Feels good to have your hand full of a nice stiff piece of meat. Here. Unbuckle my belt. Yeah, that’s a three-dimensional image of my ranch brand, Lone Palm. Ah. That’s right. Slide your hand into my crotch. No, I go commando.”
Steffen was pleasantly surprised to find Amadeo naked under the erotic chaps and jeans. Salaciously, he rubbed the steamy pubic bone with his thumb, just brushing his fingertips against the moist, stiff root of his prick. Leaning back against the spanking bench, Amadeo slung one arm lazily behind his own head as though posing for Men’s Health. He must know he made a stunning picture, the stud exposing his manhood for all to see. “Wrap your hand around my dick, Steffen. Do it. You know you want to feel it.”
Steffen must have had a stubborn streak. As much as he wanted to fulfill Amadeo’s command, he really wanted to know if his chest was waxed. Half-unbuttoning and half-tearing, he rent the checkered shirt so the meaty pecs were exposed. His eyes must have had a voracious look, for Amadeo sighed.
“Ah. You want to admire my chest. You want to suckle my nipple. Well, then. Here.”
And he grabbed the back of Steffen’s neck and smashed Steffen’s face to his chest.
Chapter Six
Ah. It was heavenly to be admired, to be suckled by such a lean and formerly straight horndog as Steffen Jung.
Amadeo had spent all night last jacking off to the fresh memory of sucking this man’s dick. Now he had somehow succeeded in seducing the building inspector into shoving his hand down Amadeo’s pants. Steffen must really want to please that voluptuous motel owner. Excellent.
Men—and women—often wanted to nuzzle his buff, hairless chest. Yes, he had it waxed. There was nothing worse than those bearish men who used to climb all over him at the Racquet Club. Now that he waxed, he more often got the type of fellow he wanted—long, lean, and savory, like Steffen Jung.
Steffen suckled Amadeo’s nipple experimentally. When he nibbled it between his incisors, Amadeo shuddered so heavily his other nipple erected, his chest breaking out into gooseflesh. Steffen wound his fingers through Amadeo’s silken bush, and he tentatively fingered the rigid root of his cock. Amadeo’s lips had measured Steffen’s tool, and he knew he wasn’t as impressive. Not many men were. But to a man who had never fingered another dick before, he knew Steffen was stunned by the immediacy, the pungency, the oily, veined length of it.
Steffen’s groan vibrated the depth of Amadeo’s chest as Steffen boldly smoothed his hand around the entire upper side of the cock, still sheathed in the jeans.
“You like that.” Amadeo was almost tender now, although just seconds away from coming. He cradled the back of Steffen’s skull, nuzzling Steffen’s face against his smooth chest. “You like your hand being full of a big dick.”
“Guys, I just talked to Fernando. He told me that Ronnie Dobbs was arrested for playing air guitar and eating some ant—oh, my.”
Both men froze in position. Steffen held his breath, Amadeo’s nipple still between his teeth.
Amadeo barely knew Willow Paige. She was a newcomer to Last Chance, from all accounts a freshly divorced beauty who had suffered some sort of tragedy in Florida, no one seemed to know what. It must have had something to do with her despicable husband, for everyone was in agreement that he was a douche bag, a sort of coke-snorting wife beater. Whatever the case, Willow was no spring chicken, maybe a little over thirty, but had no children in tow. This led kinksters at the Racquet Club to speculate the tragedy had to do with a child. Small town people loved to talk. And they all wanted to know the lowdown on the little minx who had purchased the old Sunset Palomino Ranch. Amadeo knew his father had been a client here back in the day, but he shuddered to think of his father in the Cesar Romero Room.
Willow stood with her hand on the doorknob, the door that connected Cesar Romero’s room to the utility room. Her mouth was a perfect O, and her overgrown bangs made her look younger than she probably was. Amadeo wondered if she often wandered around the construction site in those high-heeled sandals. Rubble was everywhere, yet she was practically dressed for a bondage club in a revealing “little black dress” that had bra cups made to order for her high, jiggly tits.
She placed a limp hand on her bosom now. “Oh, excuse me. I’ll leave you alone.”
“No!” both men shouted at once.
Amadeo gripped Steffen’s hand from outside the jeans, to prevent him from removing it. He spoke hurriedly, so Steffen didn’t get a chance to ruin things. “Steffen told me about your fantasy,” he said kindly. “And we wanted to help you fulfill it.”
The expression on her face made a sea change. From shock and embarrassment, her face took on an enlightened, knowing look. “Ah,” she said, slowly smiling. “Yes, we talked about that. Don’t stop, Steffen!” She came closer, shutting the connecting door behind her. “Mr. Barbieri—”
“Amadeo.”
“Amadeo, I just didn’t know you were such a swift operator.” She perched on the seat of the spanking bench, crossing her knees, very ladylike. “Please. Don’t mind me. Continue. What are you doing?”
Amadeo squeezed Steffen’s hand inside the crotch of his jeans. The woman’s gaze went directly to the length of cock that was exposed, the trunk of Amadeo’s prick that Steffen was groping. Amadeo explained, “I’m just teaching Steffen here that there are many different ways of getting your kink on. Last night I sucked his cock. He spewed and spewed his delicious load into my mouth.” Amadeo looked affectionately at the close-shaven head that he fondled to his chest. “Today I’m showing him the joys of being subservient, of servicing another man. Right, Steffen?”
“Right,” Steffen mumbled, back to lapping up Amadeo’s nipple.
“I’m a voyeuse,” Willow said, chipper as could be. “Am I going to be able to watch Steffen suck your penis?”
Amadeo assured her. “That’s exactly what you’re going to see. We aim to please, miss. Right, Steffen? Get off my teat. Get down on your fucking knees and service me.”
“Oh, God,” whispered Willow. She set her toes on the floor in order to lean forward, hands on knees. It sure looked as though she was rotating her pelvis on the upholstered corner of the spanking bench. Her black dress was a flimsy rayon affair, just enough material to buffer the upholstered rounded corner she gyrated her clit against.
What a nasty, sexy woman. Dear God. This man is going to be gulping my load in seconds if I don’t slow him down. Steffen was so enthusiastic to suck his first dick Amadeo had to shove him by the shoulder so he fell back onto some sort of fuck bench. The piece of furniture matched the other pieces in the room. Now Steffen could perch about two feet off the floor, his thighs spread, his bulging erection plain for anyone to see. He couldn’t pretend to his girlfriend he didn’t want this. He clearly loved this motel owner, but it was also clearly not repellant to him to be lifting a cowboy’s long penis from the stricture of his jeans.
Amadeo wasn’t sure who to watch. Which was sexier? The woman grinding her labia against the corner of the bench, gyrating like a pole dancer, or the banging hot quarterback with his mouth open about to munch his cock?
“Steffen. Lick his cock like it’s a candy cane.”
Both men looked at Willow. It was so unexpected, her order. She looked like such a demure, prissy woman, for some reason. She had a clean-living way of speaking, as though all women from Florida were clean livers. Just her uttering the word “cock” aloud had both men frozen with shock. She stared at them as though they had toilet paper stuck to their shoes.
“What’s wrong? What did I say? Cock?”
“Well, yeah,” Amadeo admitted. “It sounds strange coming from you.”
“Why coming from me? Cock, cock, cock! There, I said it! Now you—Steffen!” Willow ev
en stood, sauntering toward the men with her arms crossed authoritatively. “Hold that big prick in your hand. Lick it all over, like a lollipop.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Steffen complied, Amadeo inadvertently gasped. He was used to receiving blow jobs from anonymous patrons at the Racquet Club, people he probably wouldn’t associate with in real life. But he already knew he wanted to associate with Steffen. He actually liked the man, and wasn’t just trying to get a stop work order lifted. For once, he could imagine seeing this man again and again. Steffen had a beautifully rounded ass just ripe for plowing, and Amadeo couldn’t wait to see him shirtless. He admired the man’s work ethic, his interest in architecture, and his general manliness.
“Fuck.” Steffen was flicking his tongue in and out of his cock’s slit. It was beyond erotic to look down on his closely-shaven head and think, “This is the building inspector who wouldn’t approve my work.” Amadeo had played games involving similar scenes at the Racquet Club, the usual things where a cop pulled someone over for speeding, but one blow job later, naturally the cop let the speeder go.
The roles were lewdly reversed now, giving Amadeo some dirty ideas. “You like that, don’t you, Mr. Building Inspector? You only inspected my rafters to find something wrong with them because you really wanted to suck my dick. You wanted me to watch your hard-on as you descended the ladder.”
It was amazing how quickly Willow picked up on the game. Putting one hand on Amadeo’s shoulder, she put the other on Steffen’s. “Yes, Mr. Building Inspector. Did you give this good man some demerits in his tack room because you really couldn’t wait to wrap your lips around his penis? You are one nasty man, Mr. Jung.”
This dirty talk appeared to turn on Steffen, for he deep-throated Amadeo’s prick, his lips meeting the base of the cock.
Gasping, Amadeo joined in the taunting. “Yeah. You want to swallow my long cock. You’ve been waiting for this your whole life. You’ve been wondering what it tastes like, having a long penis in your mouth.”
The Sublime Miss Paige (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 6