by Sarah Black
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Atlantic Bridge
www.atlanticbridge.net
Copyright ©2007 by Sarah Black
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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Published by Liquid Silver Books, Imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana. Copyright 2007, Sarah Black. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the authors.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Chapter One
Colton passed his service revolver to the security officer behind the front desk at the hospital. The guard was tall and very dark, with a full black beard and faint traces of Ethiopia in his voice. He put the revolver in the lockbox and handed Colton the receipt.
"You got some pretty nurse upstairs, right, Lieutenant? Every day at lunchtime, you get you something good to eat, my friend?"
Colton smiled at him, his jaw stiff. Every day, this same backslapping, big stud routine. “Not me, man. I'm just getting my blood pressure checked.” He slapped his hard belly. “You know you can't be too careful with your health."
He cut through the cafeteria, picked up a couple of salads, then walked through the indoor healing garden to the professional building. The University of Arizona hospital was a gorgeous, glass-walled sanctuary of air-conditioned quiet in the middle of Tucson's gritty downtown. The professional building was still, the staff at lunch or behind closed office doors, with their shoes off and their ties loose.
The surgical residents had a suite of small offices behind the radiology wing. Diego's door was closed, but the surgical nurse was behind the desk. “Hi, Lieutenant Wheeler."
"Ma'am. Does he have a patient?"
She shook her head. “Those salads look good. He's gonna have to eat fast, though. He's got to be in surgery in an hour."
Colton knocked quietly on the door, then pushed it open. Diego was sitting at his desk in a pair of green surgical scrubs, initialing a stack of lab reports. His hair was pulled back in a slick black ponytail, and there was a faint line of annoyance between strong dark eyebrows. He smiled when he saw Colton standing there, stood up and came around the desk. “Hey. I thought you couldn't get away for lunch!"
"I just arrested the dumb fucker. He was taking up too much time. You hungry?"
"Yeah, I am.” Diego turned back to the desk, shoved the stack of papers and medical journals to the side.
Colton set the salads down on the desk and pulled another chair up. “You want blue cheese or Italian?"
"I think Italian,” Diego said, opening the plastic containers. The little chef's salads were pretty, dark green lettuce and cherry tomatoes, ham and cheese and half a boiled egg each. Diego slipped his egg onto Colton's salad, then poured dressing from the little plastic pouch. “What are you doing? You're just standing there."
Colton smiled and picked up the blue cheese. “I was just looking at you, baby. You all right? You looked like you had a headache when I came in."
Diego shook his head. “Bad mood. I'm getting spoiled, having you around so much. I think I like your undivided attention. I've been acting like an asshole since you told me you couldn't come for lunch.” He shoved a forkful of salad into his mouth. Noon, and Diego's jaw was already dark with whiskers. Colton could see a little patch of black chest hair in the V of the scrub top. It looked like the V of dark hair below his belly.
Diego stared at Colton's hand, suspended halfway to his mouth. Laughter lit his eyes, and his voice turned honey-sweet, melting a bit into the rhythm of Spanish, his native tongue. He leaned forward, and Colton could see himself, double reflections in Diego's dark eyes. “You bring the handcuffs?"
Colton laughed out loud and swiped at his head. “You're like a boner on two legs, man. I ought to tie you up and leave you for one of the nurses to find. But I don't know if they'd let you up. One of those girls might just climb on board, take a ride on the love train, you know what I'm saying?"
Diego was shoveling salad in like he might not get another chance to eat this week. Or like he wanted to finish quick, have time for some ... Colton put the plastic lid back down on his salad. He could eat later. Diego probably wouldn't have another free minute until tonight. “You got duty tonight, baby?” Colton stood up and started unbuckling the black leather belt from around his waist.
Diego stared up at him. “Nope. You?"
"Nope."
Diego was eating faster. “Hold on, Colton. I'm coming, just wait for me. Wait..."
Colton shook his head, reached behind him, and locked the office door. “You just finish your lunch without choking, and I'll take care of you.” He unbuttoned his uniform shirt, draped it over the back of the chair, unsnapped the waistband of his uniform trousers. He reached for Diego's hair, pulled the ponytail loose and slid his fingers through it until the tumbled, silky black mass of hair fell forward to his shoulders, across his face.
Diego's eyes were as black as his hair, dark like the night sky, huge now as he stared up at Colton. He stood up, tossed the plastic container of salad toward the trash.
Then Colton had him, jerked him roughly into his arms. Diego was amazing. His body fit perfectly into the circle of Colton's big arms. He was slender and lean as a dancer, elegant, and Colton felt something in his heart crack open. He gave a little prayer of thanks. He did it every time, almost without meaning to, or thinking about it: Thank you for this man. Thank you for letting me feel this way right now. All the magic in the universe was spinning in Diego's dark eyes.
Colton pulled him forward, kissed him hard, hands moving through Diego's hair to hold him still, and he tasted olive oil and parmesan cheese on his tongue. “Yum. I love eating Italian."
It was a miracle, the low noise Diego was making in his throat. His elegant long surgeon's hands were sliding around Colton's ass, pressing into his skin and holding them together, their cocks filling and turning toward each other, like a couple of flowers turning their heads to the sun.
Colton moved his hands down Diego's slender back, still kissing him, kissing the long, slender line of his neck, the faint trace of some expensive department store aftershave on his skin. Diego's dresser looked like a boy model lived in his bedroom, heavy glass bottles of smell-good with French names cluttering the top.
"Your neck smells like that Polo, but I like the way your balls smell better. That's the real you.” He untied the scrubs from around Diego's waist, pushed them down over his hips and then stopped. “I believe you were wearing underwear when you left the house this morning.” He could hear a change in his voice, the cop sneaking in.
Diego went still. “Was I? I wonder where I could have left them.” He had a little smart-ass grin on his mouth.
Colton touched a long finger to the dent in Diego's chin. “You better watch it, boy. You walk on thin ice with me sometimes."
"Yeah?” Diego stepped closer, took Colton's big hand and pressed it between his legs, hot skin, wiry hair, a cock bouncing gently against his belly. “And what are you going to do? What are you gonna do, if I'm walking on this ice, and I break through?"
Colton found Diego's balls,
rolled them between his fingers, then he put his hand up to his face and smelled. “I'll save you.” His voice was a whisper, and Diego shivered and moved closer, pressed himself against Colton's chest.
Colton licked down his finger, that warm, spicy smell of Diego's balls like liquid heat in his belly. “I'll save you.” He wrapped his fingers around Diego's cock. “Now bend over.” He pushed the scrubs the rest of the way down, and they puddled at Diego's feet.
Diego had a slim, pretty little butt. Colton pulled the chair out of the way, bent over Diego until his forearms rested on the desk. Diego looked up at the clock. “Surgery in forty minutes."
Colton stopped moving, his hands on Diego's hips.
"It's just a hernia repair. Don't worry. I can do it with my eyes closed, Colton."
"Okay, then.” He reached into the top drawer for the lube. Diego had little individual packets of flavored lube from the STD clinic across the street. Colton pulled a couple out. “We got bubble gum and passion fruit. Jesus, don't they make any of these for grown men?"
"I've been telling them to make a tequila-flavored one.” Diego looked over his shoulder. “So just spit on your hand, cowboy."
Colton shook his head. “I don't want to hurt my boy's sweet little ass. You're gonna be sore, botch the hernia, get sued, then you'll end up passing out condoms in a Mexfam clinic in Sonoyta."
"Holy Mary! Save me.” Diego made a quick sign of the cross. “Okay, passion fruit."
Colton tore open the plastic, dribbled lube on his fingers, slid them down the cleft of Diego's ass. “Oh, you're pretty down here, just like a flower. Did I tell you that before, baby?” He pushed the tip of a finger inside, felt the tiny mouth open, then squeeze shut against him.
Diego's voice was husky. “Yeah, Colton. You told me."
Pushing in, the gentle skin closing around his fingertip, and Colton could feel passion ignite in his balls. He kept his fingers in place, and pushed his uniform trousers and boxers down.
It felt so tender. That's what always got him. The most tender, fragile skin, open to him, warm and hungry, and Diego pulled one knee up on the desk, opened wider. “Colton, I'm ready."
He slid his fingers out, and his cock found its place. The head of his cock was always wet and sticky under the foreskin, purple and fat as a plum. He didn't know what it was that had made Diego's eyes go dark and wide the first time he'd ever seen Colton undressed, but the fascination hadn't waned. Diego loved to slide Colton's foreskin back, hear the wet sucking sound it made, lean forward and taste him with the tip of his tongue.
Diego took a breath, opened himself and pushed back, until the head of Colton's cock had slipped inside. It never went in easy; it was too fat. Colton knew he had hurt a few men over the years, but Diego was in love with his cock, loved the dark plum head, and he knew how to use it.
"Tell me when you're ready.” Diego's ass was velvet around his cock. He pressed back.
"Come on, then."
Colton's hands tightened on his hips, one thrust, gentle and sweet as honey on his tongue, then another, and Diego was moaning, clutching the edges of the desk, pushing back against him.
"Harder, Colton.” So he rammed the last couple inches home, the way Diego liked it, started pumping, fucking him hard, the way he liked it, and Diego was nearly standing on his head, murmuring in Spanish, louder and louder until Colton buried himself in his body, reached around and cupped the head of Diego's cock, squeezed hard.
"Colton.” Diego bit down on Colton's forearm, and Colton reached for his nipple, flicked it with a rough finger.
When Diego started to come, his ass contracted around Colton's iron-hard cock. Colton thought he would be swallowed whole, sucked into Diego's velvet heat. He could feel his balls clench, the sensation so strong it was almost painful. He exploded deep inside Diego's body, felt like he would empty his soul.
Diego reached for his arm, kissed the place he had bit, then slipped Colton's finger in his mouth and sucked on it while Colton finished emptying inside him.
Diego looked over his shoulder, black hair wild across his face. The color was deep honey and rose across his cheekbones. Colton reached forward, ran a rough thumb under Diego's eyes.
"Did I hurt you?"
Diego shook his head, closed his eyes. “It's getting better, Colton. Stronger."
"Yeah, I know.” Colton glanced up at the clock, then sighed and started to pull out.
Diego jumped into the shower in the office bathroom, and Colton got dressed, then finished eating his salad. When Diego came out on the bathroom, toweling his hair dry, Colton tossed the rest of the salad in the can and picked up the comb and elastic band. He pushed Diego into the chair behind his desk. “I'll do it."
He combed Diego's hair straight back from his forehead, and pulled it into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck. Then he bent forward to look at one piece of dark hair falling across Diego's cheek.
"You look hot, baby. Come on, let's get you all ready for the world."
Diego folded a piece of cinnamon gum into his mouth, ran a hand across his chin, and looked at the clock. “No time. I'm wearing clean scrubs. That will have to do.” Colton held out a neatly pressed white lab coat that had been hanging from a coat hanger on the back of the office door. Diego slipped his arms in, and Colton buttoned up the front, adjusted the name tag.
"Dr. Diego Del Rio, Senior Surgical Resident.” Diego was looking like himself again, his public self. Composed, formidably bright, elegant, and in charge. This was a man you would give your hernia to fix without a moment's doubt. Colton tucked the single piece of loose black hair behind Diego's ear. “That one is just for me. We'll leave it tucked away for now."
"I got an interesting call this morning. There's a fellowship, cardiovascular surgery."
"That's heart surgery, right? That's what you've been wanting to do?"
"Yeah. Another long year of residency, though."
"Aren't you feeling tired, bud?"
"Yeah, maybe. And I'm not making any money."
"Well, it's a good thing I'm only after your ass. We got enough. You can do whatever you want, Diego. I make enough. I'll take care of us."
Diego reached for his face, traced his mouth with tender fingers. “You coming home tonight?” Diego's eyes were serious, and the question was serious too, their only big issue. Were they going to live together? Diego didn't pass up a chance to call his place home, remind Colton to come home. To come home to him. Colton was not a man to get pushed without pushing back, but sweetness and this man's eyes might be his undoing.
"Yeah. I'll see you at home.” He reached for Diego's hand, pressed it against his chest, over his heart. “You can cut on my heart anytime you want, Diego. You're the life I've been waiting to live."
Diego closed his eyes, lifted Colton's hand and pressed a kiss into his palm. Then he was out the door and gone.
Chapter Two
It was ninety-six in the shade. Downtown Tucson had a gritty, burned smell, not the clean, fresh heat of the desert. Colton could feel the prickle of sweat on his scalp seconds after he left the glassed-in cool of the hospital behind. In truth, he liked the heat. He'd grown up down here, out on his grandfather's ranch in the desert outside Nogales, grown up playing rough-and-tumble with boys with black hair. When he was sixteen, his grandfather died, and he'd moved to Tucson to live with his uncle.
He still had the ranch. It sprawled over southern Arizona and into Mexico. The land was older than the borders, and the animals didn't know when they were on American land or Mexican land. Neither did Colton. As far as he was concerned, that land belonged to the Sonoran Desert and to him. He spent as much time as he could roaming around at night, listening to the desert cool and the raptors come out to hunt. It was his real home, the home of his heart. But in other ways he felt like he'd never left his uncle's house.
Jeremiah Wheeler was a huge man, with a bulldog face and hard hands and a belly that hung over his gun belt. He'd been sheriff of Pima Count
y for over twenty years. The people down on the border, the ones who voted for him, liked his black-and-white world view—right and wrong, laws and lawbreakers. He didn't believe in the gray areas and he never questioned himself.
Colton respected him, but he'd never liked him, never loved him, not like he'd loved his scatterbrained, mescal-drinking grandpa who used to litter the ranch with pretty whores every couple of months. The girls never stayed, though, not once they got a look at Maria, the housekeeper, who kept the crucifixes dusted and had hips so wide they knew she was a cook of extraordinary powers. No pretty girls in pink hot pants could compete with the twin powers of the Virgin and good Mexican food.
Jeremiah Wheeler had no truck with pretty whores, and none with pretty boys, either. Colton had never told his uncle he was gay. Sheriff Wheeler would have simply not accepted it, would have turned him out. He'd told Colton when he was eighteen that homosexual trash made him want to vomit, and that was all they had ever needed to say on the subject.
And Colton loved his work down on the border enough that he could put up with working for his uncle. He was one of four lieutenants in the department, and he was right where he wanted to be.
The sheriff only saw black-and-white, but Colton was all about the gray areas. His unit was the one to handle the sticky, messy, human stuff that wasn't covered under the rules. No one wanted the trouble his department handled, and that was the way he liked it. He was the man people came to see when the niece of a woman who had known his grandpa had been beat up in a whorehouse in Nogales, and her baby stolen, and rumor was the baby, Juan, was being smuggled into Texas and sold on the black market because he was light, his daddy probably white, and the person telling him this story had crossed the border somewhere on Tohono O'odham land, he wasn't really sure, he'd meant to go through a border crossing but he got lost, and he'd lost his papers, too.
But what he had to do, to keep peace in the law and order sheriff's department, was to keep his head down and not embarrass anyone. And it probably helped that his Aunt Margaret loved him and prayed for him not to make his uncle mad. But on some days, like today, when Diego's beautiful smell lingered on his skin, and his strong eyes had asked those questions, move in with me, live with me, start a life with me, Colton wondered if it would be so bad, to come out, to be cast out, to be himself. But then who would chase after baby Juan and steal him back out of a tar paper shack in El Paso where he was crying and cold and hungry? And put him back in his mommy's arms, in her tiny room in Nogales, where she had to whore for six more months to pay for her passage north?