Burden (13 page)

The car slid to a stop in front of the judge’s house. Trey had never been inside, though he’d once waited in the car for another agent while he talked to Jackson. There were no other cars in evidence. He was damn glad. Trey was out of the car before the engine stopped running and around the hood in five strides. He yanked open the driver’s door and hauled Jackson out. A heartbeat later he had the judge plastered against the car and their lips locked.

“Not here,” Trey grunted, pulling away from heaven. Damn it. He should at least have enough control to wait until they were inside.

Jackson’s freed cock prodded Trey’s still-covered one. He wanted to take them both in his fist and pump his hand until they both came, shooting into the air.

“We need to get inside,” Trey panted, hoping like hell he made it to the door and didn’t spread Jackson out on the stairs of the porch to have his way with him. He’d been serious when he’d said he didn’t care who topped as long as one of them was buried in the other.

“Yeah.” Jackson’s hand traveled to Trey’s chest and flicked at a nipple standing taut beneath his shirt. His finger and thumb pinched at the nub, making Trey’s breath catch in his throat.

He moved his lips from Jackson’s mouth over his chin, up his jaw and covered the lobe of his ear. “Now, Judge. That’s an order.” Because he sure as shit couldn’t wait and Jackson wasn’t safe out in the open. Trey covered Jackson’s cock and tugged slightly, ready to lead him by the dick if he had to.

Somehow they made it to the front door, hands wandering over each other’s bodies, mouths roaming, grunts, groans and moans breaking the silence of the afternoon.

Jackson got the door unlocked and open and a second later, Trey backed him against the wall, turning the deadbolt as he did. “Stay right here,” he commanded, slapping the judge’s chest and turning to survey the house. He’d be fucking stupid not to check the place out before it got too hot and heavy between them. The last thing he wanted to happen was for them to be ambushed because he hadn’t done his job first.

Trey made his way through every room of the house, thanking God along the way Jackson had chosen a more modest home over what his wealth might have afforded him. There were only three bedrooms and closets, four bathrooms, the kitchen—where he found Jackson’s dog in a big kennel, asleep and not caring there was a stranger in the house—the living room, dining room, family room and an open, finished basement to search instead of a mansion-sized twenty-six bedroom place that would have been a nightmare to go through in his current, hard-as-a-rock condition.

He returned to the entry foyer to find Jackson still standing where he left him, his cock protruding from his groin as hard as it had been when he’d left him hanging there.

Without a word, Trey clasped both of Jackson’s wrists in one of his hands and raised them above his head, trapping them on the wall and pinning Jackson from shoulders to knees with his body. They matched in every way.

He wrapped the fingers of his free hand around Jackson’s erection. His cock was as firm as steel yet soft as silk, and somehow felt different than any other lover he’d ever held. Like perfection and forever. It was the forever thought that shot through him. An awareness and immediate acceptance that this particular man was the one he’d been waiting for.

He bit down on the flesh of Jackson’s neck. “I need you, Judge.”

“Have me. Wait. How’s the head?” His gaze flicked to the butterfly bandage. “If you need to wait—”

Trey had forgotten about his head. He realized now there was a dull ache but nothing that would stop him from being with Jackson. And since he knew for a fact there was no one in the house, there wouldn’t be any other distractions.

Trey let his lips wander down the length of Jackson’s neck. God the skin of his throat tasted like man, musk and lingering aftershave. Made Trey want to move lower and find out if he tasted the same all over. So he did.

“Keep these here.” Trey pressed on Jackson’s wrist to punctuate his command and used both hands to lift Jackson’s shirt up and off.

He knelt, running his hands down Jackson’s chest and abs. His tight, muscular pecs were covered in a splash of light brown, curly hair, the same shade as on his head, which tapered into a straight line leading to the ultimate reward.

Jackson’s fingers speared into Trey’s hair. He glanced up at his soon-to-be lover’s eyes. “Put the hand back up, Judge.”

Jackson’s eyes widened, his nostrils flared and he swallowed. “I need to touch you.”

“You want my lips around this?” Trey wrapped his hand around the circumference of the thick erection staring him in the face and gave a slow stroke from base to tip.

Jackson hissed. “Fuck. Don’t play with me, London.”

“You don’t like this?” He rubbed his thumb over the rubbery head, spreading the drop of pre-come.

A long, drawn-out groan rumbled from Jackson’s throat.

“If you don’t want to play though, I can st—”

“You stop now, and I’ll have you arrested for torturing a federal judge.”

When did save a life become change a life?

Bad Attitude

© 2013 K.A. Mitchell

Bad in Baltimore, Book 3

As the openly gay middle son of the most powerful family between Manhattan and Miami, Gavin Montgomery knows his role—look good in a tuxedo and don’t make waves.

Waves are the least of his worries when he tries and fails to keep a friend from jumping off a high bridge. His last thought as he falls in too is that someone else will have to take over as family disappointment…until he’s pulled from the water by a man with an iron grip, a sexy mouth and a chip on his shoulder the size of the national deficit.

Police rescue diver Jamie Donnigan finally has life the way he wants it. Okay, he could have done without losing his father, quitting smoking and watching his friends drift into couplehood. At least he’s managed to escape that particular trap.

When Gavin’s father turns Jamie’s routine rescue into a media circus, he figures if he’s going to suffer for his good deed, he might as well enjoy a roll in the sack. But Jamie’s not immune to Gavin’s cultivated charm…and all the risks that come along with giving in to it.

Warning:
Includes above the recommended daily allowance for snark, attitude, stubbornness and a variety of scorching hot sex (even for this author).

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Bad Attitude:

Beach’s coma forgotten, the heroes were toasted and congratulated until the dessert stations rolled out.

Gavin stepped away from the dais. As a polite “Oo” responded to the colored flames at the bananas Foster station, Gavin heard Jamie mutter, “How much longer does this crap go on?”

The glib manner was gone, the scowl Gavin remembered in its place.

“Not too much longer.”

“Thank fu— God.” The genuine disgust in Jamie’s face made him more appealing than his perfectly fitted Hugo Boss.

There was a chef and a waiter at each of the stations, three people working each of the two bars, and three waiters at the dessert buffet.

“C’mon. Follow me.”

When you were mostly invisible, people didn’t notice if you disappeared. Gavin had slipped down back halls with waiters, bartenders and an occasional guest at more than one black-tie affair. The top floor of The Regency where they were holding this had a conveniently located storage closet on the far side of the commercial elevator.

But when Gavin opened the door, Jamie’s hand shot out to slam it shut again.

“Must’ve fucked a lot of the waitstaff to find your way back here. What’s the plan now?”

Gavin had thought that was painfully obvious, painful in the way he’d made his dick a promise as soon as Jamie had come with him. “I thought you said you’d give me a ride.”

“In my truck, yeah.” Jamie leaned back against the painted cinder blocks covering the elevator shaft. He’d picked up another skewer somewhere along the way, splintering it into a toothpick. He tucked the fragment back into the corner of his mouth. “Why? What did you have in mind?”

Gavin leaned in and pulled the bamboo stick free. But before he answered with the hard kiss he’d intended, the challenge in Jamie’s eyes stopped Gavin mid-lunge. The bored arch of brows over half-rolled eyes suggested Jamie was expecting that response. That he already knew how the whole thing would play out.

Gavin was nothing special. Even wanting to lose himself in feeling something as honest as pure sex for a few minutes was only another layer of faking it through tonight—every fucking night of his life.

He leaned in and tasted Jamie’s mouth with slow, soft pressure, the way Gavin had wanted to when that wide full mouth came into focus the night on the boat. After a quick inhalation, Jamie kissed him back.

A slick, warm slide then the pressure of Jamie’s tongue sent a shock down Gavin’s spine. Rooting him here, making this something real. Jamie licked inside, and Gavin cradled Jamie’s head, thumbs across his cheeks before locking around his neck to drag him deeper into the kiss that filled Gavin’s head, squeezing out everything but this new smell and taste, the electric tingles where their skin touched, the sticky and sweet pulse in his cock and balls.

Jamie’s tongue thrust solid and sure and knowing along Gavin’s, nothing like the frantic or hesitant ventures from a random waiter or discreet guest. It was the same cocky assurance Gavin had seen in Jamie as he held his own in the room full of power brokers, popping expensive hors d’oeuvres into his throat like he owned the place.

Jamie’s hand latched around Gavin’s wrists and pulled him off. “So, we going to hold hands next or should we move this along before someone turns into a pumpkin.”

Gavin forced a matching mocking smile to his face. “Just making sure your engine was ignited.”

“I’ve got a full tank.”

Gavin peered around the cinderblocks to check for traffic before palming Jamie’s crotch. He’d expected thick and solid, but… He ran his hand up the length before whispering in Jamie’s ear, “Kind of nice to find you not fully proportional.”

Jamie grabbed Gavin’s hips and slammed them together. “You’re about to have some other expectations exceeded.”

Gavin turned and reached for the storage closet door again.

Jamie leaned a hand on it, crowding against Gavin’s ass. “Isn’t risking an audience part of the fun, part of what gets you off?” Jamie’s free hand slid around Gavin’s cummerbund and down onto his fly. “Does it make the whole boring pile of crap easier to put up with?”

Jamie unzipped Gavin’s fly, pulled his aching dick free. A shudder ran through him as Jamie’s fingers wrapped tight and gave the barest touch of friction under the head. “Your cock’s out for anyone to see.”

Those hands weren’t small at all as they stroked, milking precome to the tip until it tingled and burned at the slit. A rough thumb spread it, dipped for more. With a quick jerk on Gavin’s arm, Jamie spun Gavin to pin his back flat against the door.

Jamie brought his thumb up between them. “Yeah, that gets you pumping, all right.” He smeared Gavin’s lips, shoving the thick, calloused digit into Gavin’s mouth.

Gavin wanted to force the bitter salt intrusion out with his tongue, give one of his laughs and get Jamie smiling with a
Thanks to some interesting accidents and curiosity I already know how I taste, I wanted to know about you,
but the look in Jamie’s eyes made Gavin hollow his cheeks and suck instead. He swirled his tongue over Jamie’s skin as he thrust his thumb back over Gavin’s lips and in again.

“This risky enough that you don’t need the high too? Knowing that any of your daddy’s rich friends could come by, see you getting your dick sucked. Does it make you feel important? Or is it a bad-boy thing?”

Jamie released him, brought the thumb to his own mouth and licked.

“I can see it makes you feel pretty damned good.” Gavin nodded at the tent in Jamie’s trousers.

“I always do.” Jamie stepped in and kissed him, held Gavin’s head for a long possessive lick inside his mouth, as if he wanted to chase that bit of come, draw it back.

Gavin had a lot more of it waiting. God, he’d had enough of waiting. He slammed his hips forward, because any friction on the spike of need between his legs was worth it, even what he could get from the brushed virgin wool covering Jamie’s cock.

Jamie held on to Gavin’s face and swiveled out of reach of his mouth and hips. “I could have you here, fancy pants around your ankles and my cock up your ass, the mayor and my boss right on the other side of that wall.” Jamie tipped his head back. “But I don’t need that to feel like somebody.”

Gavin stopped straining to get closer. The throb of denied want in his balls suggested this wasn’t going to end in smiles and departing nods of appreciation for a little relief from a dull evening. “I never said you did.”

Jamie had this wrong. It wasn’t about risk or acting out some bad-boy role. Gavin simply wanted to get off.

Burden

Annmarie McKenna

There’s more than one way to guard a body.

In the year since his car flew off a cliff, Detective Brennan McGuire has struggled to relearn the simplest tasks—like speaking without a stutter—and even more with trying to fill the gaping holes in his memory.

But when his daily visit to a local coffee shop turns into a melee of flying bullets, Brennan’s instincts take control.

So much for Keegan Monroe’s first day off after a long undercover assignment. One minute he’s relaxing over coffee, the next his cheek is kissing concrete. Question is, is the gorgeous man on top of him his savior, or the one who took a potshot at his head?

As Keegan shepherds the too-quiet, too-skinny Brennan through the investigation, attraction flares into nights of white-hot passion. But with each scorching encounter, more and more of Brennan’s memories shake loose…and it becomes clear someone doesn’t want him putting those pieces together.