“My place is going to be way more comfortable. And fun. But am I hearing you have ground rules?” He leaned over and nibbled on Colt’s earlobe. “Because I have every intention of fucking you, so if that’s out, you should probably let me know now.”
“Mmm… nah, cher. I catch just fine. I mean no trying to fuck me up, eh? No being evil to me.” Colt moved right into him with a happy little groan. “I’m ready to play.”
Holy fuck, me too.He looped his arm through Colt’s. “I ended up in bed with the last guy I tried to beat up, so you’re safe either way.” This close, Colt smelled delicious. He didn’t know if it was cologne, or hair product, or just something specific to Colt, but it was irresistible.
They got a bunch of cheers and laughter on their way out the door, which was par for the course. He’d have been disappointed not to be teased by that crowd. A cab pulled up almost instantly. “They like you. Get on in, baby.”
Colt slipped into the cab, dark eyes staring into him from across the seat, one callused hand held out to him.
He climbed in, closed the door behind him, and gave the cabby his Christopher Street address. Then he took those strong fingers in his and slid close on the seat. “When I first texted Timmy, he thought you were straight.”
“Yeah? That ain’t my thing. I love women, me, but not in the Biblical way. Played good music with a bunch of them.”
“Yeah. He was all, ‘Dude, I don’t know if he’s down with that.’” He laughed. Colt was down with that all right. Colt was so down with it, he didn’t dare kiss in the cab for fear the cabby might need a fire hose to get them out of the back seat.
“I’m pretty damn good at going down, cher.” That wicked little grin sent a zing through him.
“Oh, beautiful bayou boy, we’re going to get along very, very well.” Assuming he remembered how to breathe for the rest of the cab ride.
“Number?”
“Huh?” Kyle blinked at the cabbie.Hello, hormones.
“The number, Romeo.”
“Oh. Thirty-five.”
The cabbie whistled. “Damn. Nice.”
Yep. It was nice. He paid the driver and let Colt lead him out onto the sidewalk. “That’s it.” He pointed. “Thirty-five. Come on.”
“Yessir. I’m with you.” Right with him, hard cock pressed against his thigh.
Inside. Don’t get tangled up on the sidewalk.He led Colt up the stairs and through the first door, the breezeway, and then the second, which opened into a bright foyer.
“Now, then.” Thank God. “Where did that kiss leave off again?”
“You were promising me more.” Colt muscled in, face lifted.
“I was.” He gathered all that bunchy muscle close with one arm the way he might support a dance partner and pressed his lips to Colt’s, the light, bitter taste of beer answering back first.
Colt tasted every bit as good as he smelled, and Kyle was hungry.
He wanted his dance.
Colt reached up, hands curling around his shoulders, fingers digging in and rubbing in lazy, slowly increasing circles.
“Mm.” He swept Colt toward the staircase and led him upstairs, stopping briefly when they reached the landing to kiss and taste Colt’s neck. Salty, musky. “You taste so good.”
“Do I? Good. That’s important.” Colt’s words were shaky, breathless, the lean body vibrating against his.
He smiled, pleased, and moved toward his bedroom, maneuvering Colt ahead of him gently. Once there, he took Colt’s lips again, harder and hungrier, his fingers sliding into those dark curls. They were soft, slick, wrapping around his fingers and tugging them like the curls were encouraging him to hold on.
He reached down with his other hand, getting ahold of a firm, round asscheek and sliding his leg between Colt’s thighs. Colt arched, pretty as you please, grinding against him, pushing hard enough Kyle knew he had to be aching so good.
Jesus, the man was lovely. He pulled his shirt off and dropped it, then broke their kiss to concentrate on Colt’s. “Off.” He lifted the shirt, exposing sumptuous smooth skin. He’d get a taste of all of it, very soon. Once the shirt fell to the floor, he started in on his own belt.
“Look at you, cher. I could worship at your altar for a good bit.” Colt eased off his boots, then opened his jeans, shimmying right out of them.