Carlin eyed the chair. “The arm rests are going to be a problem.”
Matt sighed. “Yeah, they are.” He stood up and unfastened his belt. “And you did mention something about a shower and sex.”
“Yes, I did.” Carlin took the time to put their plates in the sink. “I’ll wash them later.”
Matt led the way to the bathroom. The shower wasn’t huge, and the tub itself was very old, porcelain with metal claw-feet. Someone, at some point, had stuck yellow duck anti-slip grips on the bottom of the tub. It made for uncomfortable baths if a person forgot about them and slid down, but they worked great when it came to bathtub sex.
Carlin stripped Matt down, kissing and touching his gorgeous body. He loved on Matt’s nipples, working them into stiff peaks while Matt cursed and moaned softly. “Every inch of you,” Carlin said. “Going to love on every inch of you.”
Matt pulled him up for a long kiss that left them both breathless, then Carlin went down again, licking and sucking up little purple marks until he reached Matt’s cock. He took a hold of the thick length at the base, then looked up through his lashes at Matt while sucking the tip into his mouth.
“Jesus,” Matt rasped, his hands trembling where they rested on Carlin’s shoulders. “I’m gonna— I can’t—”
Carlin pressed his tongue against Matt’s slit. At the same time, he palmed Matt’s balls.
Matt’s hips bucked and he shoved his dick in deep, breaching Carlin’s throat.
Carlin pushed Matt closer to release, but stopped when Matt tugged on his hair. Carlin left off sucking Matt’s cock and dipped lower to lap at his balls.
Matt murmured encouragement, spreading his legs to give Carlin room to play.
Carlin slid his hands around to grip Matt’s ass, pulling his cheeks apart.
“Touch me,” Matt said, his voice gritty with desire.
Carlin licked two of his fingers, then pressed them against Matt’s hole. That tight muscle clenched, then loosened, and Carlin sunk his digits in to the first knuckle. He turned and twisted them around, giving Matt the pressure he loved.
When Matt was gasping, Carlin withdrew his fingers. He stood slowly, his knees a little sore from him having been down on them for so long.
“Carlin, I want…” Matt swallowed then licked his lips. “I want you.”
Carlin flushed cold then hot with need. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Matt started for the bathroom door.
Carlin stopped him. “Shower first. I’m going to take my time with you, Matt.”
He was true to his word. Carlin washed Matt’s body and hair, kissed him all over, and stroked his gorgeous body until Matt was shaking with the force of his arousal.
Only then did Carlin take him to bed and lay him down. Carlin sprawled on top of Matt, keeping his weight on his elbows. “Love you,” he said.
Matt brushed his knuckles over Carlin’s cheek. “Love you, too.”
Carlin dipped down for a kiss, losing himself in Matt’s taste for a little while before asking Matt to roll over.
Matt’s breath hitched but he went without an argument.
“Hips up,” Carlin urged, reaching for a pillow.
Matt arched and Carlin pushed the pillow under him. Then he moved in between Matt’s legs and parted Matt’s cheeks.
Matt gasped when Carlin licked down his crease, and he purred like a big, happy cat when Carlin lapped at his hole.
But when Carlin pushed his tongue in past that tight ring, Matt keened and came up on his knees, head down, body begging for what he wanted.
Carlin had to move fast to keep up with him. He rimmed Matt until his pucker was wet and loose, until his fingers could glide in and out easily. Then he got the lube and stretched him some more.
Matt was babbling, his words short, sentences incoherent by the time Carlin pushed his cock into that silky grip. Matt’s body heat was incredible, his inner walls rippling and clenching as if to pull Carlin’s dick in deeper and deeper. They’d dispensed with condoms after their test results had come back, and now it was only them, skin on skin, as Carlin thrust in balls-deep.
Matt managed one word—Carlin’s name, then he moaned and closed his eyes, one hand gripping the sheets while he shoved the other underneath himself to grab his shaft.
Carlin covered Matt, his chest to Matt’s back. It limited how much he could move, but the body contact was perfect. Together they found an amazing rhythm for their love making, and when Matt cried out, his body going taut as the scent of his cum hit the air, Carlin’s heart swelled with more love than he’d ever thought he’d feel.
This one man was his heart, his life, and Carlin would never take him for granted. He swore it, out loud for Matt to hear before spiraling into his own orgasm.
There were perfect moments in time, perfect feelings and words. When Carlin eased down beside Matt, both of them sated and happy in love, when Matt murmured of his love and his promise to be Carlin’s, to cherish him and care for him always, Carlin knew one of those precious, memorable events was occurring.
They were, in that moment, married and committed to each other as surely as if they’d had their ceremony that would be a celebration of their love.
Carlin curled up and rested his head on Matt’s chest, and he listened to the steady, strong sound of Matt’s heart until he drifted off to sleep, secure and safe, loved.
Also available from Pride Publishing:
Love in Xxchange: Rory’s Last Chance
Bailey Bradford
Excerpt
Chapter One
The noise blaring in the Xxchange was almost obnoxious enough to have Chance turning away from the bar and heading back to his truck. How anyone could call the clattering racket in the place music was beyond him, and that was without taking into account the caterwauling that someone was trying to pass off as singing. Sounded more like two bobcats going at it than anything he’d ever considered singing. Nah, the cats had more talent, to be honest.
He let his eyes adjust, determined to give this a shot, because it’d been way too long since he’d got laid and he needed this something fierce. Problem was, he’d long ago grown tired of bathroom blowjobs and one night stands. Maybe he’d just grown up—then again, maybe not—he was out trolling. Not the same, he decided. When he was younger, he’d fucked for the fun of it. This, tonight, wasn’t going to become a habit, or a challenge. It’d just been too long and something inside him yearned for the comfort of another body close to his for more than the time it took to get off.
“Sappy fool.” Chance glanced around the bar, taking in the bodies grinding together on the dance floor and the forms huddled in pairs or groups in dark corners. God, he felt old—he was old compared to most the people here. No way was he going to get out on that dance floor and flop around or dry-hump until he jizzed his jeans. And he was for damn sure not going to put on a show in some corner, or a table, or a booth.
This whole idea was stupid to begin with. He wasn’t interested in a twink, which seemed to be the majority of the bars’ patronage—he didn’t have anything against them, simply wasn’t his thing. He’d always preferred his men built more like himself, not body-builder cut but firm rangy muscles and rough around the edges, and definitely closer to his own age.
Yeah, this was not the place for him. Chance started backing out, noticing that a couple of cute young things were staring at him—too cute, too young. Looked like a good hard fuck would break ‘em. He shook his head to let them know he wasn’t interested, but it only seemed to have the opposite effect. The two pretty boys were soon making their way across the bar in Chance’s direction, determination evident in their every move. Memories Chance would rather keep suppressed swirled to the forefront of his mind—there was a reason he didn’t care to mess with young, pretty-looking men. He narrowed his eyes at the two men, hoping they would take the hint.
“Like spoilt kids who can’t stand being told no.” Chance didn’t care who heard him. Matt
er of fact, if he got really lucky, one of those little boys would be able to read lips. He’d give them a hand signal but he was pretty sure they’d just take it as an invitation. His pride wouldn’t let him back out and run now—he’d feel like a wuss. Chased off by two boys—well, they were boys to him, and it was not going happen. He’d drop them both if they got grabby on him. Probably make him feel like a puppy-kicker, but he would deal with it.
“Why don’t you let me help you out here, cowboy,” a low voice rumbled in Chance’s ear as a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling his back up against a firmly-muscled chest. He savoured the feel of corded strength surrounding him, the pinpricks of lust that shot through at each point where their bodies pressed together.
Hard to miss the press of an engorged dick that close, and if Chance was any judge of that particular piece of male flesh—and he had to believe he was—it was quite an impressive dick that nestled against his ass. His own cock took only a beat before firming right up and pushing uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans.
“Jesus.” Chance shot his cock a glance, surprised at the immediate response. That hadn’t happened in a while—he couldn’t remember the last time he’d perked up quite so quickly. A soft chuckle tickled his ear and rumbled from the chest behind him into his back, vibrating throughout his body. “Looks like those boys decided to give up the chase,” that deep voice purred, all sex and fire and smug masculine strength. Chance watched the scowls flitter across the boys’ faces before they turned and walked off.
“Huh. Guess so.” Chance started to turn only to stop when the hold around his waist tightened. He didn’t know whether to be more turned on or irritated all to hell. When soft lips started nibbling along the side of his neck, finding their way to the sensitive patch of skin right behind his ear, Chance gave it all up and let out a low moan. God, when had anyone, including himself, taken the time for such a thing?
Better yet, why hadn’t he taken the time—remembered that sex was about more than who put whose cock where—the sharp nip of teeth tugging at his earlobe slapped all rational thought out of Chance’s head. Every muscle in his body tensed and vibrated with need. Large hands began stroking his stomach, working their way down until fingers feathered across the tip of his prick, dancing over the wet spot where pre cum had seeped through his jeans.
“Them boys not your thing, cowboy?”
Chance opened his mouth to answer only to snap it shut against a shout of pleasure building in his chest as the hand teasing his cock suddenly gripped hard, sending a bolt of pleasure-pain to his balls. A brush of fingertips across a nipple, then a firm twist and Chance knew he was dangerously close to losing his load as his back tried to bow. All he succeeded in doing was shoving his ass even harder up against the stranger’s steely cock—a move he swore left singe marks on his denim-clad cheeks. The heat coming off the other man was palpable and heady, stirring something inside Chance that was burning and needy, almost overpowering in its intensity.
“PYTs—pretty young things. Too pretty and way too young,” he finally managed to answer, though he couldn’t quite hide his disdain of those two attributes. “Either one alone is bad enough, but put the two things together…not what interests me.” It took Chance a minute or so to realise the hands that had been tormenting him in the best possible way had stilled and the big body behind him had filled with a different kind of tension. He tried to formulate a coherent thought, and once he did, it dawned on him that he must have offended the other man some way or another.
“Look, I didn’t mean any insult, if those boys are to your liking. They just aren’t to mine. I don’t like feeling like a cradle-robber.” Or a dirty almost-old man. Chance tried again unsuccessfully to face the stranger. Now he was getting irritated. He slid his hands, one up and one down, wrapping his fingers around thick wrists, prepared to pull the man’s hands from his body. A grunt at his ear told Chance the mystery man wasn’t happy about having his hands tugged away from their resting places.
“Don’t care for those boys myself. You, now—you’re to my liking.”
Well, that was too damn bad because Chance was past irritated now and quickly reaching a full-out mad. This time when he tried to turn, the hands holding him in place actually helped. He spun around with every intent of telling Mr Grabby Hands just what he thought of him. A blur of movement was all the warning he had before those soft suckling lips swooped in and stole the anger right out of Chance. His eyelids dropped shut and his mouth opened wider at the insistent demand of scorching tongue, lips and teeth. Hard hands grabbed his ass and jerked him in tight, grinding and pumping.
“God, I want you.”
Chance could barely make out the words that were murmured against his lips, didn’t get time to respond before his lips were plundered again. He let go of himself, not caring if they were in a bar and on display anymore. All that mattered was meeting the other man’s nips and licks, the sucking and thrusting of tongues and the rubbing of two thick, hard cocks.
“Want you too,” he finally managed between panting breaths, and he meant it. No one had ever built up a fire in Chance like this man was doing, least no one he could think of right now. Not that he was in any shape to think. The stranger’s groan was long and loud, full of a frustration that Chance was feeling himself. Somehow he found himself pressed into a shadowed corner, mouth still under assault and battling back. He faintly registered the snap of his jeans and groaned into the stranger’s mouth. Could feel but not hear the rasping of his zipper, then long, callused fingers were stroking his dick, slow, hard tugs that were close to painful and better than any stroke Chance had used on himself.
The stranger’s lips left his, sliding down and latching onto the skin right below his ear, nipped and sucked hard as a thumb pressed into the slit of his dick. Chance’s knees tried to give and he grabbed on to the other man’s stacked biceps, registering his own large hands barely covered more than half the width of those bulging muscles. Jesus, the man was huge and it turned Chance on as much as the handjob he was getting.
“Ah, God! Fuck! So close.” Chance’s voice came out through gritted teeth, gruff and smoky and sounding utterly foreign to him. The hand jerking his cock tightened and tugged faster as the stranger’s other hand slipped down and forced its way between Chance’s thighs. Rough fingers brushed over his perineum before applying slight pressure. Chance jerked so hard his back popped, the friction sizzling up and down his dick and the outside rubbing of his prostate robbing him of air, body clenching and tightening until Chance thought his balls were going to crawl up inside his body.
“Only close?” The stranger spoke against the sensitive skin under Chance’s ear, and then latched on hard with his lips and teeth while driving the tip of a thumbnail into the weeping slit of Chance’s cock again. The combination one-two assault sent a frisson of searing heat exploding out from the base of his spine to every nerve ending in Chance’s body. He yelled before he could stop himself, clamped his jaws shut and bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood as he thrust into the strangling grip on his cock. His balls tucked impossibly tighter and jettisoned waves of ecstasy to his cock and out the head in thick white ropes on the stranger’s hand and Chance’s shirt. His head dropped forward, neck too weak to hold it up just then as the other man stepped quietly back and the hand on his cock disappeared.
Chance took a few stuttering breaths before he realised the man was gone. What the hell? He assumed the stranger had stepped back to give him a minute to put his pecker back in his pants, or maybe the man was going to wash his hands. He tucked and zipped hurriedly, embarrassed and turned on, eager to take this party somewhere quieter. Except the mystery man who’d said he wanted Chance must have suddenly had other ideas. When he looked up, all Chance could see of the person he thought was the stranger was part of a long and densely muscled shoulder and arm pulling the door to the bar shut on the way out.
Chance stood rooted to the dirty floor, trying to p
rocess what had just happened. One minute I’m covered in warm male flesh that made me feel like pure perfection was all over me, the next minute I’m left standing with my dick dangling in the breeze and spunk splattered everywhere. Seriously, what the hell? Confused and feeling worse than when he walked in the bar, Chance straightened his spine and walked out wearing his dignity and the scent of his own seed.
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About the Author
A native Texan, Bailey spends her days spinning stories around in her head, which has contributed to more than one incident of tripping over her own feet. Evenings are reserved for pounding away at the keyboard, as are early morning hours. Sleep? Doesn’t happen much. Writing is too much fun, and there are too many characters bouncing about, tapping on Bailey’s brain demanding to be let out.
Caffeine and chocolate are permanent fixtures in Bailey’s office and are never far from hand at any given time. Removing either of those necessities from Bailey’s presence can result in what is known as A Very, Very Scary Bailey and is not advised under any circumstances.
Email: [email protected]
Bailey loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.pride-publishing.com.
Also by Bailey Bradford
Breaking the Devil
Dark Nights and Headlights
Texas and Tarantulas
Belt Buckles and Cowboy Boots
Southwestern Shifters: Rescued
Southwestern Shifters: Relentless
Southwestern Shifters: Reckless
Southwestern Shifters: Rendered
Southwestern Shifters: Resilience
All of the Voices Page 12