He looks down to hang the towel on something behind the counter, as he says, “Yeah, I can see that.”
Suddenly I don’t want this conversation to go any further. I didn’t come here to exchange life stories or get close to him emotionally, and something about his expression sets off alarm bells in my head. Dropping the book back onto the table, I decide to go for the direct approach.
“I thought you promised to finish what you started back at One More Chance?” My hoodstand has gone down with the conversation, but I cup my crotch and slide my hand up and down, not leaving any doubt about what I mean. And it’s the instant sharpening of his gaze, rather than touching myself, that makes me harden again. “When does that happen?”
He moves fast, rounding the island and coming to my side seemingly in an instant. When his hand closes around my bicep a wave of heat fans out from his strong grip and heads straight to my cock.
“Now,” he says. “Right now.”
But he doesn’t try to kiss me or anything, only starts marching me toward the staircase back near the door we entered through. Being towed along like that makes me chuckle, and Kyle shoots me a look.
“What’s so funny?”
“I feel like I’m under arrest and being dragged into the cop shop.”
He stops abruptly, so much so that I take another step and almost stumble when he lets go my arm.
“Shit.” He looks horrified. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–”
I lift my hand and stop him mid–sentence. “Don’t pay it no mind. It was kind of hot.”
That freezes him for another heartbeat and then he’s moving, crowding me, backing me against the wall, and my pulse goes crazy. I wasn’t blowing smoke when I said having him all serious and take–charge was a turn–on, and now, as he stares at me with those dark, intent eyes, I’m having a hard time breathing.
“So you like when I go all Babylon on you, huh?” He’s right up in my face, but not touching me, and I hold still although I want to reach out and pull him closer. Then he nudges my inner ankle with his foot. “Want me to search you? Pat you down?”
The air catches in my throat, clogging whatever words I might have said. Instead of trying to answer, I inch my legs apart.
“Yeah,” he says, low and hard. “Spread ’em, Vincent. Let me see what you got.”
Oh, I’ll show him what I’ve got alright…later. But, for now, I want to see how far he’ll go. So I assume a position I haven’t been in for a long time–legs a little more than hip distance apart, arms out to the side and against the wall behind me.
Kyle stretches his arms out so his hands touch mine. There’s no other point of contact between us, but he’s so close I feel his breath across my face and see the heat sparking in his eyes, contrasting to his stoic cop expression.
Then he starts to frisk me, but it’s not like any search I’ve ever had before. His hands brush over my palms then down to my wrists. Moving slowly, his hands lightly gripping, Kyle traces a path along both my arms until he’s encircling my neck. All the time his gaze hasn’t left mine, but bores into me, telling me without words he’s liking this weird, arousing foreplay as much as I am.
“Full search, I think, for a man like you.”
A hot shiver goes down my spine at his whisper, and I swallow hard before I answer, “Better be careful, officer. You might find more than you’re looking for.”
“I don’t think I will.” His fingers slip behind my ears, stroking in a seductive parody of a search, usually used when a suspect has long hair. “But I’ll bear the warning in mind.”
Before I realize what he’s about to do, Kyle dips his head to one side and swirls his tongue around the edge of my ear and then dips the tip inside. I shudder, goose bumps erupting over my torso and tightening my nipples.
“Nothing there,” he says, keeping his mouth right there, making me shiver.
Then he switches sides and does the same thing to my other ear. Meantime, almost without me noticing, his hands have slid over my shoulders and now rest against my ribs. He steps back slightly, and briefly closes his fists on my polo before letting it go.
“Lose the shirt, Williams. I need to see what you’re hiding under there.”
I don’t hesitate, just reach behind my head and pull the garment off. Letting it fall from my hand to the floor, I go back to the position I was in. Kyle’s gaze takes a slow, thorough tour across my chest and down to my stomach–then lower. I swear I feel it like a burst of sunlight on my crotch, searing me in the best possible way and making my breathing and heartbeat go into overdrive.
“Turn around.”
Although I’d love to keep watching him, I again follow his command, pivoting to face the wall, arms spread and braced against the smooth plaster, legs parted. When he moves up close behind me to put his hands on my hips I literally start to sweat, the heat between us is so intense. He reaches into my back pocket–slowly, letting me feel every motion–and pulls out my wallet. Putting his arms loosely around my waist, he opens it, looking over my shoulder to see the contents.
“Driver’s license, Williams, Vincent Jacob. Access card. Work ID for Chrome Business Solutions. SIN card. Various credit cards, all in the same name.” He flicks open the inner flap and when he speaks again his lips are right beside my ear, so the words rumble and tickle into it. “Condom.”
“I was a scout,” I mumble. “Always be prepared.”
Kyle drops the wallet onto the step beside us, and bunches the front pockets of my jeans in his hands, tightening the fabric of my pants almost painfully over my aching dick.
“Do you have anything on you that will stick me, hurt me, cause me harm?”
It’s a paraphrasing of the usual question asked, probably all over the world, by police officers but in this context there’s only one answer I can give.
“Yeah.”
His fingers tighten on me a little more, and I feel his cock brush against my ass. “Show me.”
Resting my forehead against the wall, I drop my hands to my fly, and then pause.
“What about the warning to take it out slowly and keep my hands where you can see them?”
Kyle makes a sound suspiciously like a growl, and punctuates it with a nip on my shoulder. “Do you think you’re in a position to tease?”
Rocking my hips back brings our bodies together for just a second, but I know I’ve made my point when that sound rumbles through his chest again. I don’t bother to say anything more, just start unbuckling my belt. My ears are rushing with the sound of our breathing, sawing in and out of our chests, and I’m suddenly surprised at how steady my hands are. They’d been shaking from the moment he’d first touched me back at the kennel, but now I have no trouble with belt, button or zipper.
He pushes his hands into the sides of my now sagging pants and I groan silently at the strong, quick shove that takes both trousers and briefs down past my hips, the slight roughness of his palms as they slide against my skin. I’m not sure I won’t lose control if he touches my cock–I want him bad… bad, bad, bad.
But Kyle simply pushes my clothes down, running his palms along my thighs until my jeans drop to pool around my ankles. When he straightens, I brace myself against the wall on my forearms and hold my breath, waiting to see what he’ll do next. His stepping to the side brings him into my line of sight, and I turn my head just far enough to see his expression. I’m in time to watch his gaze rise from my crotch to my face.
“That could be classified as a dangerous weapon, Williams. Could do bodily harm.”
I don’t know if that’s an invitation or a warning–if, like me, he likes being top or bottom, depending on the situation or mood–but I can’t help smiling.
“I’ll be careful. Wouldn’t want to add assault to my sheet.”
“It’s not assault if it’s consensual. And in this case it would be.”
His eyes are black, hot and a little wild, and he’s flushed, sweat gleaming at his hairline and above his upper lip. J
ust like that, between one shallow breath and the next, the aura of fun and teasing between us falls away, and I don’t want to play anymore. I want to touch him, taste him, fuck him and be fucked senseless by him. Using my feet, I get my jeans and underwear off, not taking my gaze away from his, seeing in my peripheral vision the way his fingers flex, as though anticipating putting his hands on me again. When I’m naked, I straighten and turn to face him, then look down at myself. Man, I’m hard. Harder than I can remember being for a long time. And so revved up the head of my cock is slick with pre–cum. Bringing my gaze back up to his, I lift my eyebrows.
“Waan test, Sergeant Pictou?” The patois comes out thicker than it should, like sometimes happens when I’m excited, and I shake my head. But before I can interpret it for him–say, ’You want to test that out? Give it a try?’–he smiles, and my belly tightens at the sight.
“Yeah, Vincent. Come test.”
Chapter Five
Kyle
I step aside to let Vincent pass, gesturing for him to precede me up the stairs, but I don’t touch him. I can’t, unless I intend to throw him down on the staircase and screw him there. I don’t trust myself not to.
Besides, the view of him naked, climbing the steps ahead of me, is too good to miss. I was right about his body. It’s lean but muscular, the dark skin moving and rippling over the tight muscles beneath with each step. I swallow, realize I’m literally salivating as I silently devour the sight of him. He goes up those steps with a cocky swagger, seemingly unconcerned by his nudity or the fact that we’re heading for my bedroom–neither of those things I can pretend indifference to. Both things I can hardly believe and yet am mentally praying are real and not some crazy figment of my imagination.
He gets to the landing at the top and glances down the other staircase leading to the front of the house, then at the corridor above and two steps farther up from where he’s standing. Putting his hand on the newel post, he gives me a heavy–lidded look over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.
“Which way?”
“Up and to the right,” I say. Well, more like growl, my voice is so low and gravelly. “Last door on the left.”
I’ve already unbuttoned my shirt and shrugged it off as I was climbing the stairs and, as I follow Vincent down the corridor, I pulled my t–shirt off too. I’m right behind him when he steps into the bedroom and heads toward the bed. I want to follow him, but decide to half–close the blinds to cut some of the midday glare first, so I move to the window, tossing the clothes in my hand onto a chair as I’m passing. When I have the blinds adjusted, I turn, my hands already working the fastenings on my fly, expecting to find him on the bed. But he’s right there, standing just a few inches away.
“You take too long, man.” He brushes my suddenly frozen hands away from my zipper and pulls the tab down. “I’m not waiting anymore.”
“Hang on. Let’s–”
I want to tell him the bed is softer than the floor and there’s no need to rush, but his fingers are already inside my pants, finding my cock and encircling it. And by the time he sinks to his knees in front of me, my mind is blank to everything but the sensation of the slow, firm pump of his fist, the yearning for his mouth on my pulsing flesh.
“Nice,” he mutters, his voice thick, and I see him lick the corner of his mouth. My legs tremble, and a bead of pre–cum runs down from the tip of my cock onto his hand, making his fist slide even smoother and drawing a groan from me. “Yeah. Damn, that’s real nice.”
Then his tongue flicks out and swipes a wet, electrifying path around the head of my dick and I stop breathing altogether, as my eyes roll back in my head. When his hand is replaced by the hot suction of his mouth and the firm, silky caresses of his tongue, I grab hold of his head to steady myself, already on the brink of coming.
He makes a sound deep in his throat that’s so rife with pleasure I groan again, my own enjoyment heightened by the knowledge that he’s liking blowing me as much as I’m loving having him do it.
Vincent’s fingers tug at the sides of my jeans, easing them and my briefs down until they’re at my knees. One hand comes back up to grip my ass, the other cups my balls, fingers rolling and pressing. I try to widen my stance and give him better access, but I’m trapped. All I can do is hang on and let him do whatever he wants–which seems to include driving me insane. Over and over he works me with his lips and tongue, keeping a varying degree of suction going with his mouth, occasionally letting my erection slip free so he can lick from the tip to the root and back up.
Pulling my length deep into his mouth, Vincent pauses, his only movement the slow, twisting swipes of his tongue on the underside of my dick. Heat fires down my spine and settles in my gut, churning, making my balls tingle and every hair on my body stand up. When he pulls back slightly, I can finally take a breath, but the inhalation is cut short when he immediately takes me all the way back in.
He swallows, his throat closing over the head of my dick, his tongue pressing the shaft up against his palate, his entire mouth tightening for a split–second around me like a hot, damp fist.
I lose it. Completely, utterly.
I think I might have made some crazy sound, but I can’t hear it through the rush of blood in my ears. Think I’m being too rough as I thrust into his mouth, but I can’t stop myself. I’m coming. Hard. Too fast for my liking too, but I can’t hold it back.
And it seems to go on forever. Spurt after spurt jetting from my trembling, spasming body, causing my legs to lock and my hips to jerk as if I’ve been Tazered. My eyes are clenched shut so tight white starbursts dance behind my lids.
When the orgasm finally fades, leaving me weak and stunned, I find myself practically doubled over, my hands on Vincent’s shoulders, while he effortlessly supports most of my weight. He’s looking up at me with that sexy, heavy–lidded expression, a slight smile tipping the unscarred corner of his mouth.
“You alright there, man?”
“Shit,” is all I can say, my brain still reeling. “Shit. You’re trying to kill me.”
He laughs softly. “Mmm…but what a way to go, eh?” He reaches down and taps my right ankle, saying, “Lift.”
I do as I’m told, and he pulls my pants and underwear off first one foot and then the other. As soon as he’s finished I take my weight off him, although my legs still feel as though they’re about to give way, and he stands. Putting one hand on his nape and the other around his waist, I pull him close and kiss him–hard. I don’t know why I feel the need to put the kind of force into it that I do, but I don’t hold back. Yeah, okay, I’m pretty much trying to eat him whole is how it feels, but he doesn’t seem to mind. When I finally pull my lips away from his, he dips his head to the side in that way he does when he’s smiling, so I can only see the unscarred side of his face.
“Don’t do that.”
I hadn’t meant to say anything, but the words just pop out. Vincent’s eyebrows quirk up. “What?”
Sliding my hand from his nape to his cheek, I turn him back to face me fully. “Don’t turn your head away when you smile. I can’t see your eyes when you do.”
Those eyes are staring at me, questioning, but then he shrugs slightly. “Most people find it…unattractive.” He shrugs again. “It’s just easier.”
I have the urge to tell him there’s nothing easy about what’s happening between us, but that’s not really true. It’s just sex–although if what just happened is any indication, extremely hot sex–and nothing more. So I just shrug too. “I’m a cop. I’ve seen some really ugly things. Your scar doesn’t bother me, but it does bother me when I can’t read your eyes.”
For a long moment he doesn’t say anything, then he smirks. “What you think you going to see, eh?”
Not going there. Most people have no idea how much their eyes give away when someone knows what to look for and how to combine what they see with body language. For instance, right now, although he’s smirking, I see how vulnerable facing me head–on makes him
feel, and I’m almost sorry I said anything. But I don’t really regret it. For some unknown reason I can’t stand the thought of him hiding from me.
Instead of telling him that, I pull him in closer and whisper in his ear, “I’m gonna see you wanting me.”
He does one of those slow swivels of his hips, making his dick slide across mine, and says, the laughter clear in his voice, “Can see that without looking at my face.”
And that makes me laugh too and want to kiss him again, so I do, while walking him backwards to the bed. I owe him for the blowjob and intend to pay him back…with interest. He just reduced me to a shaking, mindless sex maniac and, as good as it was, I kind of resent it too. I’m used to being in control, even of sex–when it happens and how, even the intensity–and since he just blew that out of the water, I don’t want to be the only one driven nuts. I want him out of control too.
We fall onto the bed, his hands clutching my ass, mine holding his head, while I take some of my weight off him by staying up on my elbows. His eyes are still laughing when I break off the kiss and lift my head to look down at him, but his breathing is all over the place and his hips are moving, as best they can with me on top of him, making his dick slide against the crease of my thigh. I’m not used to sex being fun, but I smile down at him, liking the twinkle in his eyes.
Then I set out to find what will make him as crazy as I feel.
Vincent
Ahh… Rass bwoy.
I’m a sweating, shaking, moaning wreck, unable to do anything but lie here and take the torture Kyle Sgt. Bumboclaat Pictou is dishing out. I guess the surprise blowjob just fired him up, when what I’d really intended was to take the edge off. I’d expected reciprocity, but not like this.
Lying partially on my side, partially on my stomach, I have Kyle wedged between my thighs, my topmost leg bent up toward my chest. My cock is in his mouth at the moment, and one thick finger is in my ass, slowly working in and out with a corkscrewing motion. I want to come so bad I’m almost in pain, but if what’s happened so far is any indication, as soon as I get close, he’ll pull his mouth away and his finger will go still until the urgency passes.
Brought to His Knees-Tough Guys Laid Low By Love Page 20