Perfect Love

by Trina Lane

  “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”

  Clay picked up the box lying in Logan’s lap. “Now?”

  Logan shook his head. “I want to wait ‘til the ceremony. This first time this ring goes on my finger should be when I say ‘I do’.”

  As usual, Logan’s wishes matched his. He knew the moment Logan’s ring slid over his skin, it would seal their bond for life. The bond that had taken twenty-two years to build. The bond that wove their lives together and, despite a few tears, had healed stronger than when it had formed. He placed the matching boxes on the ottoman.

  “Wait here,” he said.

  Clay went into the bedroom and stripped the comforter and pillow from their bed. He carried them into the living room and made a nest in front of the fireplace. When all was ready, he waited for his fiancé to join him. Logan’s sensual stride closed the distance between them. They undressed each other with lingering kisses and stimulating caresses as inches of smooth skin were bared.

  Clay sank into the soft nest of blankets, the glow of the fire spreading warmth across his skin. Logan settled above him and Clay spread his legs, cradling Logan’s lean hips as their cocks brushed against one another.

  Logan’s taste was sweet nectar on his tongue. Their lips danced, and Clay’s mind focused solely on the pleasure he’d only experienced making love to Logan. His hands cupped Logan’s ass, holding his love in the crux of his body. Their mouths separated, and Clay arched his neck. A sigh escaped when Logan’s mouth traced his jaw line and down the column of his neck, licking at the skin. Clay’s desire grew and his hands roamed over the smooth, muscled skin of Logan’s back. He buried his nose in Logan’s broad chest above him, inhaling his lover’s musky scent.

  Logan’s head dipped and his mouth latched onto one of Clay’s nipples. A sharp cry of ecstasy rent the air, and Clay’s stomach clenched. His cock wept with need. Logan scooted down, and Clay whimpered with regret until he felt soft wet licks caress his cock. Clay moaned in approval and gasped as Logan’s mouth covered his cock, swallowing him all the way to the base. The heat of Logan’s mouth seared the sensitive skin.

  “Oh fuck…Logan.” Clay drove his hips upwards in abandon, the pleasure was so great.

  Logan teased him by drawing away from his dick. His mouth hovered above the head. Tiny licks fluttered across the mushroomed glans. The tip of Logan’s tongue dipped into the slit to gather drops of Clay’s essence. Up and down the hard shaft, Logan’s tongue danced. The touches were soft and fleeting as if Clay only imagined them. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch. Anticipation of moist heat from Logan’s mouth caused his thigh muscles to tense as his cock twitched.

  The heat from the fire and arousal coursing through his system created a fine sheen of sweat on his chest and abdomen. Only moments before Clay was convinced he’d go mad, Logan finally took mercy on him and sucked the head of his cock. The sensation of wet heat and suction was so great Clay fell back onto the blankets, closing his eyes to savour the unimaginable feelings. He lifted his legs and held them against his chest, opening his body to Logan’s touch.

  He heard a faint click then cool fingers circled his opening. He wanted some part of Logan inside him so badly he pushed into the seeking digits, demanding Logan’s possession of his body. Two fingers thrust deeply into his body.

  Oh fuck me, please.

  Clay’s chest heaved with deep breaths. The healed tissue expanded and contracted without pain. His legs shook and blinding pleasure spread outward from the core of his body. Another finger entered him, and the tips brushed over his prostate. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful. Logan sucked Clay’s cock and thrust his fingers in perfect rhythm.

  Clay moaned and cried out, begging for more.

  Logan reared up, and their faces were no more than a couple of inches apart.

  “You want my cock, Clay? You wanna feel me deep inside you? Every inch filling you, ‘til we don’t know where I stop and you begin?”

  Incapable of words, Clay nodded vigorously.

  The head of Logan’s cock pushed against his opening, demanding entry. Clay bore down in welcome, and when Logan bit one nipple while simultaneously thrusting deep inside him, Clay lost it and screamed. Logan’s balls nestled against his ass and his hips swivelled, burrowing his cock deeper inside Clay’s core. Clay’s hands lost their grip on his legs, and they dropped over Logan’s arms. His lover’s strength was more than capable of supporting their weight as he thrust deeply over and over. Logan fucked him hard and fast.

  Clay arched into each stroke. His cock slapped against his abdomen, leaving kisses of pre-cum pooling in his navel. Sweat coated their bodies, and the lights from the Christmas tree turned into colourful halos. Logan’s mouth fused with Clay’s, his tongue thrusting in rhythm with the cock expertly obliterating his previous conceptions of pleasure.

  It was too much, he couldn’t hold out.

  Clay wrenched his mouth away from Logan’s. “Logan!”

  The lights dancing behind his eyelids exploded into fireballs of ecstasy. Every muscle, every tendon in his body stiffened, and he came. Hot semen shot over Clay’s stomach and chest.

  “Look at me, Clay!”

  He forced his eyes open as the waves of pleasure consumed his entire being, and he stared into the smoky blue orbs burning with desire above him.

  Logan’s tilted Clay’s hips. His cock reached depths previously unknown and froze. A primal roar echoed in the room as heat filled Clay’s ass.

  They spent the rest of the day loving each other, and when the sky darkened and the temperatures dropped outside their haven, they held each other tight. The warmth of their bodies and the beat of the hearts nestled next to each other was all the comfort they needed.

  Want to see more from this author? Here’s a taster for you to enjoy!

  Perfect Love: Simply Perfection

  Trina Lane

  Excerpt

  Matt Lincoln sat at the small table inside the bistro, waiting for his date to show up. He looked at his watch with a frown. Jaime was twenty minutes late. As Matt took a sip of his water, he thought, not for the first time in the four months they’d been dating, Jaime was frequently late. There’d been a time or two when Jaime hadn’t even shown up at all, only to call hours later with profuse apologies and promises for it to never happen again. Each time Jaime swore his work had kept him late and there was nothing he could have done to prevent it, but deep inside Matt knew those were lies. Jaime worked as a buyer for one of the major department stores in Brookline. It’s not like there were fashion crises that happened at all hours of the night.

  Maybe Matt was being unfair. After four short months, more of it spent texting than actual time spent together, Matt couldn’t have a real understanding of the demands Jaime’s job made on him. Hell, maybe Jaime had a devil of a boss, like in that movie, where he was forced to run out for steak and coffee at the drop of a hat.

  Matt looked at his watch again. Twenty-five minutes late. He’d told his patients countless times to value themselves and their needs in a relationship. Maybe he should listen to his own advice…

  This is the last time.

  His cell phone buzzed on the table and Matt unlocked the screen to find a text message from Jaime.

  soz baby. Can’t make it 2NITE somet has cum up.

  Matt scoffed and whispered, “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

  I'll text u L8R. mebe I cn cum by ur place 2NITE.

  Matt’s fingers flew over the touchscreen—We need 2 tlk. Call me

  He dropped the phone onto the table in disgust at the same moment the waiter stepped up to the table.

  “Is there a problem, sir?”

  The young blond, who’d introduced himself as Tim when Matt first arrived, had a crease in his brow and the pair of sweet brown eyes tightened.

  “No, sorry. I just got stood up for dinner and hit up for a booty call in one fell swoop.”

  Tim’s eyes widened and his jaw dropp
ed. “You got stood up?”

  Matt nodded.

  “I can’t believe…well that is…I mean…look at you! I’d give my left nu— arm to date a guy like you.”

  Matt’s laughter went no further than between them, but the tension in his body floated away into the open space of the restaurant. “Thank you. I’m flattered but think I’m a bit old for you.” The waiter’s face turned a charming shade of pink.

  “Oh come on, you can’t be that much older than me. Besides there’s nothing wrong with a little seasoning, in my opinion. Not that I’m trying to hit on you or anything, I’m just saying.”

  “I can’t decide if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

  Tim looked over his shoulder and quickly turned back to the table, pad at the ready. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ve let my mouth get away from me. Will you still be dining with us this evening?”

  Matt looked over Tim’s shoulder and saw a middle-aged, pencil-thin man with a permanent scowl on his face staring in their direction. He’d been so eager to try this place after Logan and Clay raved about the food and service. “You know what…yes. I’ll have the flattened lemon chicken with za΄atar and Turkish cheese pancake. I’d also like a glass of the Boutari Moscofilero.”

  “Excellent choices. Do you wish me to remove the other place setting?”

  “Please. Who wants to be reminded of unpleasantness with a good meal in front of them?”

  The waiter removed Jaime’s place setting with a little wink, and Matt had to smile. Tim seemed like a good kid, and Matt would make sure to leave him an extra large tip for the ego stroke.

  When Matt’s wine appeared, he took a sip. The cool spicy flavours and aroma filled his senses. It was perfect. Matt nodded his head in appreciation. Despite dining alone, Matt was determined to make the most of the evening, and come tomorrow he sort out his love life—or lack thereof.

  * * * *

  Man, it was cold outside. Trevor Mitchell shivered as a gusting north wind made its way through a gap in his coat. Trevor jogged across Dorchester clutching the warm bag of take-out from his favourite barbeque place. Partly because he didn’t want his dinner to get cold and partly because he hoped to absorb some of the heat leaching from the bag. Fall, winter, spring or summer didn’t matter, he easily got chilled. At work, an efficient air conditioner frequently sent him running for his lab coat, which always made Logan laugh. Logan always told Trevor if he would put a little bulk on his frame then he’d have some extra insulation. However, despite Trevor’s life-long efforts, the top of his head never crossed beyond five foot nine, and the scale never tipped over a hundred and fifty. He’d tried god-awful protein shakes that tasted like chalk and working out till his legs collapsed beneath him, but nothing helped. Now that Trevor was twenty-eight, he’d come to accept the fact that Rambo he never would be.

  Now he realised that was fine since his smaller stature allowed him to catch the eye of some seriously hot, bigger men, and Trevor did like them big. The bigger the better, in his opinion. Unfortunately, those wonderfully big bodies often came with enlarged egos and attitudes.

  A shiver, not from the cold, raced over Trevor’s body when he remembered some of his previous relationships. It wasn’t that Trevor minded a little rough sex on occasion. However, more than one of them wanted to take the games out of the bedroom and make them real. Trevor had no intention of being a part of that scene. It wasn’t only with sex either.

  He didn’t know why, maybe it was his smaller size, but often the men he dated tried to treat him as though he needed to be babysat, or they tried to control every part of his life. It annoyed Trevor when they would demand to know where he was at all times, call constantly to check up on him, or try to tell him what he should eat and wear. He’d been on his own for years!

  Logan had been livid when he’d caught sight of bruises around Trevor’s wrist a few times at work. Trevor had tried to explain it was no big deal, but his friend—a former Army Ranger—told him over and over there was no excuse.

  Trevor stopped and looked over his shoulder when he heard heavy, fast-paced footsteps behind him. Nothing was visible. Not one person. When he turned, all Trevor saw was darkness. Despite their valiant effort, the warm glow from the widely spaced streetlamps did not dispel the harshness of the fall night. Maybe the weather had driven everyone inside and only Trevor was foolish enough to be out and about. When walking alone at night from the ‘T’ station, Trevor was always on guard. The area around his apartment wasn’t known as crime ridden, but he’d always believed in the motto, ‘better safe than sorry’.

  Safety didn’t play much of a factor in Trevor’s decision to sign the lease in Dorchester after getting his first job at the crime lab, though. More like the cheap rent.

  He shook off the heebie-jeebie feeling and increased his pace. Fortunately his place was only another couple of blocks down Greenwich.

  Maybe it was time to invest in a car so he wasn’t dependent upon public transportation. Up to this point, it had hardly seemed cost effective when he was a quick ten minute walk to the ‘T’ station and could jump the Redline to work at the Boston Police headquarters with ease. Not to mention the cost of insurance, parking and initial investment. The thought of riding home from work in a warm car was appealing, though.

  Trevor ran up the flight of exterior stairs to his front door. The building housed six units, and his was located on the back side on the second floor. He searched the pocket of his coat for his keys. A loud crash from some metal trashcans in the alley alongside his building nearly made him drop his dinner and scream like a little girl. A low yowling from a cat had him looking over his shoulder. The poor thing sounded scared, and Trevor felt the same when he spied a hulking shadow peering around the corner of the building next door. Maybe it was his imagination but the faceless form seemed to be staring right at him. He quickly opened the door to his apartment and locked himself inside.

  His back pressed against the door, the bag of take-out gripped so tightly in his hand, it was a wonder his fingers didn’t rip right though the paper. A few seconds later Trevor realised what a ninny he was being and shook his head at his overactive imagination. There was no boogie man stalking him and The Thing was not lying in wait outside his door.

  He quickly hung his coat on the hook beside the door and walked the three steps to the edge of the wall that formed a rectangle in the centre of his apartment. A kitchenette sat on the exterior side of the rectangle, sharing space with his living area. His bedroom rested at the opposite end, and a tiny but functional bathroom was housed in the interior. Bare brick walls and hardwood floors kept the atmosphere clean and simple. All in all, Trevor thought the little hideaway was perfect for him.

  He flicked on one of the small under-cabinet lights he had mounted and set the bag of take out on his three feet of counter space. He reached up into one of the three frosted glass cabinets to remove an oven-safe dish, a plate and a glass. He opened his mini-fridge under the counter only to discover his milk had expired two days ago. Trevor gave it a sniff and, detecting a hint of sourness, poured the remaining contents down the round, undermounted stainless sink. It looked like he would be having water with his dinner tonight, which had become cold despite his best efforts. Trevor pushed the buttons on his stove to preheat the oven. The thing was half the size of a regular appliance but sufficient for his needs. It wasn’t like he was a gourmet chef.

  Trevor walked the few paces over to his sofa and dropped down in exhaustion. He looked out the two large windows overlooking the backyard of the building and caught sight of a shadow from the branches of the large oak tree blowing in the fall night air. The weatherman had said a cold front was approaching tonight and by the feel of things on Trevor’s way home, he could definitely confirm the prediction. Trevor searched for the remote in the edge of the cushions for a minute then clicked on his new television.

  He was a bit of a self-admitted audio- and videophile. Trevor worked with top-of-the-line equipment during the
day for the Boston crime lab unit, and a couple of months ago he’d reached his breaking point. Unable to stand coming home to the nineteen inch CRT TV he’d picked up at Goodwill when he moved in for one more second, he’d withdrawn part of his savings and sprung for a new forty inch LCD TV a couple of months ago. The colours leapt off the screen and, despite not forking over the cash for the surround-sound system, Trevor thought the sound quality was excellent. It wasn’t like his apartment needed surround-sound anyway.

  The oven beeped and he placed his barbeque chicken and corn in the dish to heat up then slipped it in to heat for a few minutes. Trevor walked down the short hallway to his bedroom and, despite his inner pep talk by the door, peeked out the blinds of his window to see if anyone stood on the corner. Just as he thought, there was nothing.

  Trevor pulled a pair of comfortable sleep pants and a long sleeved T-shirt out of his dresser. He didn’t bother to turn on his bedside lamp. He knew every inch of his bedroom. The well-washed fabric was soft and slid over his body with the comfort and familiarity of an old friend. Trevor eyed the bed with longing but knew he should eat at least a portion of his dinner before collapsing. It had been a long day, and he hadn’t taken the time to eat lunch. If he went to bed without dinner either, he would probably wake up starving later, and Trevor had every intention of sleeping a full eight—if not more—hours tonight.

  He shuffled back into the living area and retrieved his dinner. Setting his food down on sofa, he got comfortable. It was a good thing he liked his sofa because there was no room for a dining table. He channel-surfed until the classic movie station flashed up on the screen, and he saw that they were playing Operation Petticoat—a Cary Grant comedy he loved.

  Two of the characters were trying to steal a pig, and Trevor’s laughter echoed off the bare walls. He looked around. While he was proud of being able to support himself, it was times like this when he wished he had someone to share his space with. Share his life with. Maybe someday he would meet the right man, but until then, he always had Cary.