by BA Tortuga
“Be right there.” As if he’d let anyone—fucking anyone—pour his lover a drink. The shot was poured, along with a round of sex on the beaches to catch the boys up. Then he headed over, singing with the band.
His own personal Mr. Brown Eyes was waiting for him, legs planted and spread, jeans worn and clinging, hat pulled low. When Galen reached out to take the drink from him, that thumb circled on his skin, pressing gently.
He hummed, biting his lip as his cock jerked, filled, the want always right at the surface. “Hey.”
“Hey. Thought I’d come see what time you got off.” Galen grinned at him. “And how soon you could come get off with me.”
He chuckled, settled beside Len, letting their legs slide together. “I have to be here at close to do the deposit, but I have an office, Mr. Frost, with a locking door and a sofa.”
“Well, now. That’s a heck of a lot better than the side of my truck.” Galen’s hand ran along his leg, squeezing his thigh.
He spread a little, offering it up, just like that. Still. “I’m damned fond of the side of your truck, Len.”
“So am I. But I’m getting old to be doing it standing up, darlin’. Couches and offices and us not getting kicked out ’cause you’re the boss? Much better.” Those fingers walked right up and smoothed over his fly.
“Oh.” He scooted forward, hips pushing into the touch, moth to the flame.
The touch deepened, Galen petting, stroking. “Yeah. Whenever you’re ready, lover. We can hit that couch.” The whiskey went down in one smooth swallow, Galen’s tanned throat working.
“Now is good, Len.” He reached out, fingers sliding. “I’m wanting.”
“Good. Come on.” Galen stood, grabbing his hand and pulling. “Now.”
“Pushy.” He laughed, standing and heading for the stairs, for the little office.
“Where you’re concerned? Hell, yes.” Galen followed close, worse than Old Man Roberts. Or maybe an octopus.
They stumbled up the stairs, Galen closer than an Arkansas cousin, pushing him right into his office. And then he was facedown over the desk and Galen was right up behind him, rubbing hard. He pushed back, thighs spreading, parting like ashes in the wind. “Len. Yours. Fuck.”
“Mine. Damn, Shane. Always mine.” He could feel Galen against him, hard through their clothes. Sharp teeth closed on the nape of his neck, bringing the hot blood right to the surface.
No use arguing what they both knew to be the God’s honest truth. He rubbed, hips begging, a low cry leaving him. Galen backed off for maybe a half a second, opening their jeans with quick motions, getting them skin on skin. That deep fucking growl against his ear? Hot.
He could smell the hint of whiskey, the cologne and spray starch and musk that was undeniably Len around him. That and the thick cock against his ass. Unmistakably his Galen. “Want you, darlin’. Want you so bad.”
“Take me, I’m yours.” He pressed back, bearing down, taking Len in.
“Fuck, Shane! You’re…. God. Still ready.” Galen moaned, harsh and low in his chest, pushing right on up. “Love you.”
“Always.” He fucking flew, living for the burn, the stretch. Needing it.
He got it, Galen riding right into him, hard and deep, hips rolling against his ass. Those hands were all over him, one settling on his chest, the other on his cock. His nipples stretched, ached, made his cock leap and throb, made him clench around that heavy prick.
“Shane.” Galen pinched at his nipples, pulled at his cock, filling him so good. Over and over.
“Yeah. Len. Want it.” He lifted up a little, eyes going wide as Len’s cock slid over his gland. “There!”
“Yeah. Oh, yeah.” Galen pegged him again, holding him there, pushing mercilessly into him. Groaning, their skin slapping. Oh, fuck. He arched, muscles tight as fiddle strings, pouring his fucking soul from his prick. Galen was right behind him, no pun intended, grunting, filling him deep and hot and wet, biting down on his skin.
Yeah. Yeah. He fucking lived for it—the burn, the ache, the fucking buzz riding his nerves.
“God. You’re something else, darlin’. Everything I want.”
“Good, ’cause you’re stuck with me.” He knew well enough to hold on to his good thing.
“Right now I’m stuck to you, darlin’. But I think I’ll take you home with me.” Galen laughed, and that had to be the best sound in the world, something Galen did more and more the longer they were together.
“Oh, good.” He grinned, wiggled to make Len moan. “Our bed only sits right with both of us in it.”
“You got that right.” Galen kissed his throat. “Now you’d better get out there and close so we can get to it. And get me another whiskey. It’s coming up a storm out. We can go home and sit in the hot tub and watch the rain.”
He nodded, stretching as he stood. “Rain and whiskey and you. Sounds like a plan, Mr. Frost.”
Sounded like one hell of a plan.
Exclusive excerpt
Tropical Depression
Stormy Weather: Book Two
By BA Tortuga
The weather in the Florida swamps is looking a little rocky for retired football player Galen, his laid-back lover Shane, and their pet gator, Vic.
When Galen buys into a football team, promoting and wheeling and dealing are the name of the game. He’s so busy that he hardly gets to see Shane anymore, which means a lot of lonely naps on the couch. Shane is tied up with managing the bar, covering for unreliable bartenders, and serving drinks to good-time party boys. Used to be Galen couldn’t get enough of him. Now he can hardly pry Galen away from the phone, and Shane starts to wonder where he stands in Galen’s life. Will things ever be the way they were? When Galen starts to forget their dates, the pressure builds, jealousy and hurt swirling into a tropical storm. Galen and Shane need to seek shelter in each other before everything they’ve built is washed away.
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Chapter One
SHANE POURED himself a double, topped off with some lime juice, and knocked it back before toddling out onto the back deck. Man, Sunday afternoons? His absolute favorite. He heard the guitar of the Changos’ new song as he hit the door. “Len? Turn the music up? I fucking love that song.”
The sun was beating down and his favorite kiddie pool was filled and on the deck, a floaty in the bottom to cushion his ass. The scent of some hunk of meat on the grill was spicy and rich. Mmm… spicy. Galen’s come tasted wicked sharp after spicy….
Shane stopped. Blinked.
Okay.
Dude.
He’d only had two.
Three.
Tops.
“Uh. Galen?”
The alligator hadn’t been in the pool when he’d filled it this morning….
“Yeah, darlin’?” Len sounded relaxed, happy. Perfectly normal.
“Can you bring me the hose?” He squinted. Man, those claws were so bad for his floaty.
“What? You can’t be out of water in that thing.” But he heard Len coming, dragging the hose. “You make me burn the grilled veggies and… shit.”
“Uh-huh.” Okay, cool. So. Real alligator. Not a hallucination. Good to know. “Gimme the hose.”
Galen handed it over without a word and went to turn it on, then came back to look over his shoulder. “That’s pretty good-sized.”
“Uh-huh.” He took a stance and aimed at the gator’s nose, squeezing the little yellow gun-end-doolie.
The first shot of water hit the gator right on the snout, and all it got him was an open mouth full of teeth and a fucking ominous hiss. That big tail swished, Shane’s pool creaking.
“Damn, Shane. Piss him off, why don’t you?”
“Well, he’s in my pool, Len.” He sprayed again, this time in the ass. “What if it shits in it? The floaty’s already a loss.”
“Well, we can always get another pool, darlin’. We can’t get another you.” The hose’s spray cut off abrup
tly.
He frowned, blinked at the hose, then back at Galen. “Let up on the hose, Len. I can’t move him if you don’t.”
Galen blinked innocently at him, toes moving off the hose, letting water flow again. The water splashed up in his face, making him shake his head and sputter. “Oh. Oh, you’re a bastard. Gonna stick this hose up your ass and fill you up like a balloon.”
“Promise?” He got an evil, one-side-kicked-up grin before Galen frowned back at the gator. “’Course it won’t be any fun if we gotta watch our asses with this dinosaur. You know, they always say if you distract them with food or something you can grab them by the tail and move them.”
“Yeah?” He nodded. “Okay. You want to distract or grab? I bet we still got some bacon from last night.” He thought so anyway. Last night was sort of a blur of fucking and coming and Galen’s voice driving him higher and higher and….
Shit.
You can’t chase alligators with a hard-on.
“You distract. You’re good at it. I’ll grab.” Galen grinned at him again and popped his butt, moving around behind the pool.
Shane started wiggling his ass and waving his arms. “Woo! Hey! Alligator! Outta my pool, beast! You got a whole fucking swamp. The green plastic turtle is mine!”
He got another one of those open-mouthed hisses, those jaws seeming enormous. But as soon as Galen moved in from the back to grab the tail, that gator whipped around, jaws snapping, making Galen yelp and jump back a good ten feet without ever touching the ground. “Holy Jesus fuck, Shane. Did you see that!”
Shane stood there, hands in the air, blinking. “Uh-huh. I’ll buy another pool. They’re four bucks at the Walmart.”
“And the floaties are what? Two?” Len edged around, grabbed his hand, and hustled him back from anywhere near the edge of the pool. “Which still doesn’t tell us how we’re gonna get that monster off our deck.”
“We could poke him with your pool cue. It’s long.”
“You even think about it and I’ll tan your ass with it. I paid a lot of money for that cue.” They stood there and stared as the big old armor-plated monster got comfy again, mouth closing, a satisfied grunt coming from it.
“You’d have to catch me first.” He tilted his head, vastly unconcerned about an imminent attack on his ass. “We still got Black Cats and Roman candles?”
“I bet we do. I’ll get ’em. See if they’re still dry.” Galen wandered off, pulling him along until he was another five feet away from the gator.
He leaned against the house, looking, staring. “You look sorta like something on a pirate movie. Or you would, if you weren’t in my pool, stupid thing.”
“Darlin’, if he starts talking back? He can have the house and we’ll go to a hotel.” Galen came back, hands full of firecrackers.
“Shit, if he starts talking back, we’re taking the camera and filming it all.” Shane took a couple of Roman candles, trying to remember if you pointed the lit end or the other end.
“Maybe we ought to have supper first. Have a beer. Think on this.” Oh. Len was smart. Besides, there was that whole spicy meat thing.
Shane nodded, stepping back toward Galen. “Maybe he’ll get bored and go home.”
Then they could use the camera for more fun things.
THE GRILLED veggies were only a little burnt. The barbeque-sauced chicken? Perfect. Galen figured he should thank the gator for that, even if he didn’t want to get near the damned thing. He peered out the window at the deck. Yup. Still there. It occurred to him that they ought to call animal control. But he had other things to do.
Like Shane. Who was still looking at the Roman candles and mumbling to himself. Lord knew, Shane might burn the house down or something. Sooner or later, the gator would move on. Even if Galen had to hook a chicken to a deep-sea line and lure the gator back to the swamp.
Shane? Was more immediate.
Galen wandered over, hands dropping to Shane’s shoulders, massaging those tight, fine muscles. “You figure those things out yet, darlin’?”
“Mmm….” Shane moaned, head falling forward, shoulders rolling. That gave him all that pretty neck to mark—from the short-short hair under that gimme cap to the join of Shane’s shoulders. “I think so. Mmm. That’s good.”
“Yeah?” Galen dug in harder, mentally running though his options. Should they fuck nice and hard? Should they play a little? He listened to Shane’s breathing and rubbed, grinning a little. He figured it depended on how hot Shane got.
The fireworks landed on the table, Shane bending over a little, ass rubbing against him. “Yeah.”
“Well, I figure since you’re not using the pool, we can let the gator stay a bit, find something else to do. Just you and me.” He pushed hard against Shane’s ass, leaving no doubt what he meant. He wanted. Now.
“Oh.” Shane rippled, thighs parting, ass rubbing. “I can handle just you and me….”
Sweet. Shane made him crazy, from that tight little ass to the way he moaned to the heat coming off Shane’s skin. Galen bit into Shane’s neck, leaving a mark. His.
“Uhn. Toothy bastard.” The complaint would have meant more if he hadn’t got that full-body shudder, that little cry.
“Better than the gator, huh?” Talk about toothy. Damn. Galen worked at Shane’s loose pants and got them pushed down so he could touch skin, slide his hands over ass and thighs and around to cup Shane’s cock. “Where else should I use them?”
“Use them?” Shane pushed into his touch. “Fuck, your hands are warm, Len.”
“My teeth.” Yeah, he was feeling warm all over, wanting Shane like crazy. He didn’t think barbeque chicken was an accepted aphrodisiac, so maybe it was the whole nearly-had-leg-taken-off-by-a-dinosaur thing. Danger made a man want. He licked Shane’s bruise, cupping Shane’s balls, stroking the fine hairs.
“Oh.” Yeah, that was a happy little groan, that heavy cock jerking against his wrist. “Anywhere. Love wearing your bruises, love the ache of it.”
“Mmm. Love seeing you wearing them, darlin’. Just love it.” Galen undid his jeans, pushing them down too, cock popping out to slide against Shane’s ass. Galen shifted, letting his prick slide right into Shane’s crease, moaning a little at the feel.
“Oh. Fuck. Len.” Shane leaned forward a little more, that tight ass pressing against him, squeezing his cock.
“That’s the idea, darlin’.” Galen laughed, one hand on Shane’s body, petting and touching. He brought the other to his mouth, sucking his own fingers, getting them good and wet so he could get Shane ready for them. Then he leaned back a little, replacing his cock with his wet fingers, pushing against Shane’s hole. “Gonna fuck you right here over the table.”
Shane’s laughter filled the kitchen, husky and low. “I can handle that. Shit. I can so handle that.”
Shane pushed against his fingers, taking him deep.
Yeah. Oh, hell, yeah. Galen pushed in, opening Shane quickly, wanting too much to wait.
Shane rode him, fingers scrabbling on the table, trying to get purchase.
He used his free hand to get his cock wet, spitting into his palm and rubbing quickly before pulling his fingers out of Shane, pushing the head of his cock there instead. Then he was able to give Shane a little help, wrapping one arm around his waist and holding him still.
“Oh.” That tight hole opened right up for him, Shane’s body pulling him in, eager, hot.
“Love.” Galen shoved right in, starting a rhythm, hips rocking. “Love the way you feel inside. Love it.”
“Uh-huh.” Shane nodded, breath panting from him, starting to sweat.
Shane glowed in the light of the overhead lamp, making Galen catch his breath at how much he wanted this man. Still. Always. Galen moved faster, holding Shane up, hand searching out that sweet cock.
“Fuck. Harder, Len. Want to feel it tomorrow.” Demanding little shit. Sexy, fine, demanding little shit.
“You,” he said between bites to Shane’s ear, his neck, his
shoulder, “should still be feeling yesterday.”
Still, he gave Shane all he had, hips slapping that fine ass.
Shane crowed, riding him just as hard, bucking on his cock. “Short fucking attention span, love.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” His lover was about as focused as a six-week-old kitten. Galen laughed at the idea of Shane chasing string and moved harder, faster, pulling Shane’s cock in time.
“Oh. Fuck. Yes. Len. Love!” Shane arched, going up on his toes as spunk poured on Galen’s fingers, ass tight as a fist.
“Oh. Darlin’. Yeah.” That was all it took for Galen to go right over the edge, his hips snapping as he shot into Shane’s tight body.
“Mmm… postbarbecue table fucking….”
He hooted. “Pre-gator-chasing fucking.”
Shane cackled. “That fucking beast had teeth the size of your cock.”
“That’s a frightening image in my head, darlin’.” He laughed some more as they pulled apart reluctantly. “We should see if we scared him off with all that noise.”
Shane nodded. “If not, there’s always the fireworks.”
There sure enough always were. As long as he had Shane around.
More from BA Tortuga
ER doctor Dusty Lowry grew up in a conservative rural Texas family that has never quite forgiven him for staying in New Mexico after his stint in the Army. Paramedic Nate Miller, Dusty’s best friend since their early Army days, has a hippie momma, a tiny apartment, and is in lust with his buddy. When their other Army friend, Kyle, gets married, they start thinking about settling down. In fact, they both know what they want: each other. Too bad they’ve never shared that goofy little fact.
A trip to visit Dusty’s family in Texas changes everything, and Dusty and Nate aren’t sure where to go from there. Good thing they’re smart guys, and between a series of bombings that target first responders, their friend Kyle’s wife getting pregnant, and more than one bowl of guacamole, they begin to figure out how to have a relationship.