Running Blind
Page 20
Bastard. Who did this guy think he was? He marched toward Bram, finally getting close enough to say, “Who gave you an open invite here?”
Bram raised his brows and Ozzie said, “I did. So did Tug. Boomer. Oh, and—”
“Forget it. I don’t need the list.” He glared at Ozzie, who shrugged and excused himself. The music seemed to get louder and he moved in closer to Bram.
“Anything you’d like to say to me?” Sweet demanded.
“Actually yes.” Bram took a long pull from his beer, then put the bottle down on the pool table, leaned into Sweet, and growled, “Don’t you ever try to get rid of me for a bullshit, made-up reason again. Hear me?”
Sweet stared at him for a long moment before he found his voice. Finally, he blinked and told Bram, “Don’t ever tell me what to do unless my cock’s in you.”
Bram smiled. The most beautiful, heart-melting smile Sweet had ever seen.
The bastard.
“Fuck that. You know I’ll break that rule over and over. And you know you’re counting on that,” Bram told him. “Because you love me. Because I love you, Sweet.”
Even as the pleasure of Bram’s words washed over his goddamned cynical-as-shit heart, Sweet forced himself to glare at him. “Your ass is mine.”
Bram smiled. “About fucking time you remembered that.”
“Yeah, about fucking time,” Sweet echoed, a gentle palm on Bram’s cheek.
After Sweet touched his cheek, he yanked Bram in for a kiss. Bram was aware of cheering around them, but Sweet wasn’t letting him up for air.
Bram wasn’t complaining, not even when Sweet got him onto his back on the pool table in the middle of the room that was crowded with MC members, many of whom had already partied so hard they didn’t know their own names. Most of them were in their own world of inebriation and the person they’d chosen to spend the night with. Bram noted several women being fucked on the bar—some of them were what Sweet referred to as the mamas, and a few men were fooling around with their old ladies unabashedly.
Sweet said that public sex was pretty common around here, but once a couple got serious, the majority of the sex happened away from the group.
So Bram was ready—and not ready—when Sweet bent him so his back was flat on the felt surface. His legs had nowhere to go but around Sweet’s waist for quarter. Sweet hovered over him, leaning on his palms on either side of Bram’s head as he kissed him while rocking against him, their jean-clad cocks rubbing against each other.
The friction was enough to drive Bram over the edge if he’d let it—and he knew Sweet liked that. But it was so motherfucking public. And even though this was Sweet’s club, and the men were obviously fine with Sweet being gay, there was something to be said about being so open in such a fiercely, traditionally heterosexual environment.
He felt watched, which usually turned him on in the gay clubs. Here, he was on display, the prize of the president intent on showing Bram off to everyone.
Did he matter enough to stop at just kissing? Would Sweet strip him down here, like Bram was one of the mamas who didn’t expect to be fucked in private?
While the thought excited him in the realm of fantasy, it would only continue to if it remained solidly in that realm and didn’t become a reality.
But really, Bram wanted Sweet—wouldn’t fight him, because he was beyond that, too far gone. He wanted Sweet with a fierceness that grew stronger by the day, and he forced the thought that he didn’t mean much more to Sweet than a transient woman out of his head. It was the only way he could survive this moment, this night . . . this entire experience.
Because Sweet was reaching between Bram’s legs, unzipping his jeans and easing them down Bram’s hips. Bram kept his eyes closed, kept kissing Sweet, letting him lead, following his pace.
“Gonna let me in, babe?” Sweet asked against his ear as he fingered Bram, who’d never felt more exposed in his life. His body shuddered—anticipation and nerves bundled together, and his only answer was a moan, then a nod.
He didn’t see Sweet’s reaction, because he kept his eyes closed and his face buried in Sweet’s neck, but Sweet’s fingers were wet and slippery with lube, and they stroked his hole, eased him open carefully.
What the fuck did all of this look like? Bram could only imagine, and that made him blush and get harder all at once. And fuck, he’d long outgrown the shy, retiring act.
“I might want you to suck me off—will you do that right now?” Sweet’s words washed over him. His skin tightened, heated, and again, he nodded with his eyes screwed tightly shut. “Yeah, you would. But maybe I’ll just fuck you instead. Ready for me?”
When he nodded, Sweet ordered, “Say it. Tell me to fuck you. Tell me you want it.”
Shit. He opened his mouth, not sure anything would come out, but Sweet’s cock brushed his hole, then slid back and forth along his crack as Sweet stroked Bram’s cock. “Christ—yes. Fuck me, Sweet—come on—right now. Don’t tease.”
Sweet chuckled, then slid inside of Bram without warning, without easing himself in. Bram stilled at the sudden fullness, then groaned, “Yeah, that’s it,” loud enough for him to hear himself over the music. “So good.”
But still, he couldn’t totally give himself over to the pure pleasure, kept his face hidden against Sweet’s neck, like that could hide him completely.
And Sweet knew it, had obviously known it the entire time because he told Bram, “Babe, we’re alone. It’s all right. Been alone since before I took your jeans down.”
Bram didn’t believe him even as Sweet’s words bored their way into his heart, past the barriers he’d built up over the years to prevent that very goddamned thing from happening. The music still pounded around them, although not as bone-crushingly loud as it had been. When Sweet moved his mouth down Bram’s neck and sucked, Bram forced his eyes open and saw that the lights were dimmed and that they were indeed utterly alone in a room that had been full of partiers not ten minutes before.
“How?” he managed.
Sweet glanced up at him. “I have my ways. Pays to be in charge.”
“I thought—”
“I know. And you would’ve done it anyway,” Sweet told him. It wasn’t an accusation, merely a calm statement of fact Bram agreed with wholeheartedly. He’d surrendered to Sweet’s wants, his needs . . . he’d shown the other MC members that Sweet was not only in charge of the club, but in charge of his man. And in this culture, that was possibly the most important sign of an effective leader.
He’d trusted Sweet, and Sweet hadn’t let him down.
And finally, Bram could say the same about himself. And as he accepted Sweet’s thrusts, taking the hard strokes of cock against gland, he came as Sweet murmured, “Love you, Bram,” over and over against Bram’s cheek.
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As always,
it takes a village, and mine includes Rachel Haimowitz, May Peterson, Alex Whitehall, L.C. Chase (another gorgeous cover!), and everyone else at Riptide who helps to ensure my releases go smoothly.
Also, to my readers who understood my (unplanned and unexpected) hiatus and hung in there, and to my family, who I couldn’t do this without. More to come, and I hope you all enjoy Bram and Sweet as much as I did!
Havoc Motorcycle Club
Running Wild
Running on Empty (Coming soon)
Hell or High Water (EE, Ltd.)
Catch a Ghost
Long Time Gone
Daylight Again
Not Fade Away
If I Ever (Coming soon)
Men of Honor
Bound by Honor
Bound by Law
Ties That Bind
Bound by Danger
Bound for Keeps (EE, Ltd.)
Bound to Break
Phoenix, Inc.
No Boundaries
Standalone
Free Falling (EE, Ltd.)
Dirty Deeds (EE, Ltd.)
Dirty Deeds
Dirty Lies (Coming soon)
Dirty Love (Coming soon)
Inked
Hold The Line
Thirds
SE Jakes writes m/m romance. She believes in happy endings and fighting for what you want in both fiction and real life. She lives in New York with her family and most days, she can be found happily writing (in bed). No really . . .
SE Jakes is the pen name of New York Times best-selling author Stephanie Tyler (and half of Sydney Croft).
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