Romano and Albright 01 - Catch Me If You Can (MM) (14 page)

Dan shook his head at me. “Don’t you Google? My God, Caesar, you’re twelve years younger than I am and it’s like—”

“I know how to use the computer. Who do you think maintains the gallery website, the brochures, the email…I handle the restaurant, the printers, I built my Uncle Tino’s entire site. I just never thought to Google my boss. It’s creepy.”

He grinned unrepentantly. “Well, that’s my job. Professional creeper. I even Twitter. Let’s Google you.”

I sat there mulling over the Twitter comment. He typed my name in and a pathetic fifteen items appeared. All but one mentioned the gallery. I didn’t even have a life online. “So I went to parochial school. That’s about it.”

“Your family is suspiciously absent from the internet, did you know that? Other than the basic business information and foodie reviews. That’s pretty interesting.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Dan tipped back in his chair, his arms clasped behind his neck. He measured me. “Why did you go to work for Peter?”

“It was a good job for me at the time. I like organization. I’m good at managing unmanageable people. I guess I thought it would be exciting, and sometimes it is. Like the other night. It’s fun. But it’s not particularly rewarding. Although the artists are refreshing.”

“They are.”

I chewed, keeping my eye on Dan, who kept his eye on me. What was he thinking? “Hey. What about Brandon?”

“Brandon’s been around the block. He’s all over the net, but his nose is clean. He’s from Boston, originally. Beacon Hill.”

“What’s that? Old money?” That well had long dried up.

Dan stood. From my seated position, he was huge. “So.” He smiled. “Let’s pick this up later.”

“Oh. Oh yeah. Sure.” I wiped my mouth and scrambled to get moving, grabbing my plate and my iced tea. Nothing worse than overstaying your welcome. I was unreasonably disappointed, but I should have realized he had things to do. “I’ll just…clear this…and then—”

Dan’s hand landed on my biceps, halting me in my tracks. His voice was low. “That’s not what I meant.” His fingers closed and he dragged me backward. I juggled my dish, but my plate slid and my fork bounced with a tiny thump on the carpet. “Leave it.” He took my plate and set it on the desk, and then his rough hand slid down to mine. His touch burned. Was that even normal?

“Uhm. All right,” I said weakly.

He led me from the room and down the shadowed hall. We took the stairs. I watched his beautiful ass move inside his jeans as his boots hit the treads, and still he held my hand, dragging me to his lair.

I had enough time to catch three open doorways before he ushered me into a smallish bedroom. The hall light revealed walls a deep rich blue. The furnishings were walnut. It was striking and masculine. A lot like the man who was tugging me firmly toward the bed. I sputtered, “So I…uh…take it you don’t want to play video games?”

He whipped his shirt over his head and I shut the fuck up. The sight of a half-dressed Dan Green and words failed me. His chest was covered in a V of beautiful dark hair that dipped down into a low-slung waistband. He defined definition. I mean, the man was ripped and scarred and mouthwatering. Narrow bands of light streaked his skin—street light coming through the blinds. Mr. Noir Detective on the make. I licked at my dry lips, and he slid his arm around me, drawing me near. “I told you what I was going to do to you.”

I swallowed. “Uhm. I thought that was, you know, sex talk. Because, I’m…not usually that…kind of boy. Actually.” I was more a giver than a receiver.

Dan cradled my hips into his very prominent erection. He said huskily, “I know exactly what kind of boy you are, Romano.”

He took my rough chin in his hand and settled his mouth on mine, his kiss scorching, dominating. I kissed him back, tangling my fingers in his chest hair. I gripped him almost painfully, and he growled low, nipping my lip. Our teeth scraped, and his hands cupped my ass, lifting me against his crotch. Without a thought, I climbed his body and eagerly wrapped my legs around his hips.

“Yeah. That’s what I’m talking ’bout.”

“Oh shut up.”

He tipped back, and this time around we were on top of the mattress, the comforter a gorgeous brown like his eyes. I straddled Dan’s hips, feeling him up, down, gripping and stroking and finally smoothing the puckered skin on his arms and shoulder. They were burns. He’d been burned.

Dan buried his hands inside the ass of my pants, sliding around to hold me with the flat of his palms. “Where’d you lose your underwear, Caesar?”

His whiskers were sharp. My tongue rasped along his jaw. “I think I lost them downstairs.”

He smiled and squeezed—broad fingers circled in to brush against my balls, then the sensitive spot where my ass curved deep. A fingertip sought out that tight, shy, dark place. I tensed. I couldn’t help it.

“Let’s take this off you too. Lift up.” He purred and took my shirt off me, undressing me like a virgin. Which, he was about to find out, I nearly was. All kidding aside, I’d fucked a few guys, but it wasn’t something I much liked in return. I found that having a guy stuff his boner up my ass hurt like hell.

“Dan. I…”

He rolled with me, putting me on my back, murmuring, “Shhh…let’s just take these off of you.” Kissing, coaxing, seducing me. Leading. I toed off my shoes and they tumbled to the floor. Dan’s sweet mouth moved down to lick my armpit, my nipples, my navel—he drew my middle finger into his mouth and pleasure flooded my crotch. I watched him suck on my skin. He was beautiful. I stroked his hair, his shoulders, his neck, anywhere I could reach. I just wanted to feel him, puckered, smooth, firm, wiry-haired, gliding under my hands. It had been so long—too long—since I’d done this. Since I’d felt this.

He tugged my zipper down like he was unveiling a gift, spreading my pants open. “Yeah. There it is. You have a nice fat dick. I would have never guessed it.”

“I’m Italian,” I said inanely.

“Lift up.” He peeled my clothing away. Moist, petal-soft heat closed on my cock. Dan’s mouth slid leisurely from the tip of my dick to the root and I free-fell into a pit of lust so deep my hands fluttered wildly and then clenched into fists. My eyes rolled back in my head. He used the flat of his tongue, the roof of his mouth, man, could he suck cock. He wouldn’t take it all the way, though, not after that first time. I grabbed his neck to stuff myself deeper, but he snatched my wrist, pinning it to the bed. Oooh-kay. I’d just, wait here, while he…oh…God…worked my stiff flesh down the succulent depth of his throat.

I made a noise. “Mmrph.”

His lips came popping off the end of my prick. He nipped my inner thigh, licking a trail over my tight balls, nuzzling my hair, and then his mouth slid lower to my ass. He tucked both my wrists under my hips, holding them with one hand, raising my entire bottom so he could feast on my hole. Trapped and exposed, I squeezed shut my eyes, tensing, but his tongue soothed me, slipping and relaxing, easing me, preparing me, loosening… Oh shit. I was going to come.

“I’m…I…I…”

Dan’s mouth closed on my budded opening, now so ready for something. He let go of my wrist, pushing my knee high. “Hold your knee.”

I did and he fucking slurped on me, and then his grip closed on my cock. He was rimming me, jerking me. I’d not ever…because Shep wasn’t…no one had…it was…like nothing I’d ever experienced. Airborne. Wild. Tearing, gripping want ripped through me. I needed him to finish me right now. Right this fucking second. My toes curled. My hands dampened. My nuts shriveled like raisins. Dan’s hot hand stroked me, his tongue lapped…and he moved away.

Balanced on the precipice, I dropped my knee and clutched at him. “No.
No
…n…oh…I’m going to come.”

“Yeah. You are.” He spread my knees and slid a finger deep into that tight channel. He hit my prostate. It was perfect; perfectly timed. Sparks sizzled along my spine. His mouth closed on the head of my dick, and I came round that crazy bend gasping and desperate and stuffing my cock, pumping it right inside his sucking, lovely mouth. He swallowed, the sound soft in the room, and a second finger spread my chute. Goddamn, he was caressing the inside of my body, his fingers spearing, and somehow, he coaxed another wave of orgasm.

My heart drummed madly against my ribs. “Oh. Don’t stop. Oh God. Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He drew that climax out until I was wrung dry and weak.

I felt him smile as he let go. I opened my eyes and found Dan anything but smug. In the harsh streetlight slicing through the blinds, he looked fierce. He wiped his chin with the heel of one hand, and drew his fingers from my body. He sat back and dropped a boot on the carpet, his eyes never leaving mine.

Sprawled. Willing. That’s how I felt. Mind blown and royally fucked. I slumped into the cozy bedding. Dan didn’t give me a moment to collect my feeble thoughts. His voice cracked through the bedroom, authoritative and thick with need. “Turn over.” The other boot dropped.

I rolled over lazily, not really one to appreciate authority figures, and waited. His belt buckle clacked, jeans slid in the quiet room, and I got a good look at him. Strong, hairy, thickly roped with muscle. The scars were limited to his arms and shoulders, a few lines on his ribs.

He prowled up my body, that handsome face dead set on his goal. Which would be me. The end goal, as it were.

Lips touched my skin, starting at the back of my knees. Dan’s mouth feathered hotly along my legs, over my backside and onto my lower back. His hands were busy, massaging my spine, stroking to my shoulders and neck. He licked a path to my nape. His cock trailed wet along the crack of my ass. I wasn’t too spent to stop myself from flinching.

“Open your legs, Caesar.”

I did. Dan nipped my neck.

“Up. Get up, on your knees.” He knelt over my back, giving me room to lift my hips in the air for him. “Don’t get all tense. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Yes he was. I knew it down deep, but I nodded, my forehead scrubbing into the pillow, the soothing scent of Downy filling my head. Dan fumbled in the drawer of the small table by his bed. Lube. Condom. Hopefully nothing else. I…couldn’t imagine we’d need anything else.

Broad thighs widened my legs, opening me. I should be more responsive or encouraging, but I was too busy trying to relax. Too busy trying not to be embarrassed.

“I’m going to slide right in, you’re ready. You’re perfect.” His fingers dipped inside me, demonstrating his point. He smeared me slick with lube, and I moaned when he grazed that spot. Oh God. He murmured, “Yeah. You’ll see. You’re going to love this. You were made to be fucked, baby.”

That dirty mouth sucked my neck, love-biting me, and lust bit me again. I wriggled, pushing back into him. He was deftly finger-fucking me with three spread fingers; they stroked and pet me, and I was perking up. It tingled and burned, but not painfully.

“Yeah, that’s it, rock back on my fingers. You’re so ready.” I swear he was smiling against my neck.

Dan shifted, his fingers disappeared from my crack, and then fat, hot, latex…he breached that ring. I tensed, but there was no pain as he slid in, slid all…the way…in. Exactly like he said. He bit me again and I hissed. Full, stretched, uncomfortable—I was also arching into him impatiently. He gripped my hips, settled his knees—I guess just the way he liked it—and he worked my hips on his cock. My breath hitched with each and every stroke as he fucked against my prostate. I’d never felt anything like it before. It was good. It was so goddamn good. My cock grew, semi-erect, bobbing between my thighs. I had to touch it.

“That’s it, baby, grab your dick. Fuck yourself.” He banged into my backend, fingers digging into my hips, and, yeah, I jerked myself off, feeling slutty and hot and wide open for his cock. The bedframe hit the wall as he slammed inside me. I licked salted sweat from my lip, moving fast and furiously, and I was flying along with Dan, swearing, sweating, grunting on every exhale. Our bodies slapped together in that effort to merge. That most perfect union. It was old, it was new, it was frighteningly real. I lost my grip on the present, and then Dan went deep. He exploded inside me. His breath whistled through his teeth, and as he came, his cock lurched, spewing, trapped in his condom. “Come on, come on.”

I came weakly into my own hand, just like old times. Not the shattering revelation of earlier, but a slow, tripping release, a ripple that was as much about relief as it was about sex.

Dan’s hands caressed my back. We were drenched in sweat and sticky with come. He didn’t slide out of me, didn’t break his hold, didn’t act in any way like I expected. He was in no rush to disengage from me. No. He was ever surprising. He turned, tucked me—sheltered me into his body, spooned me, held me, and his soft words fell against my cheek before his mouth found mine. “Thank you.”

Monday morning I crawled from my tiny bedroom and stumbled to Nana’s sunny kitchen, a little sore, a little bleary, a little hungry, and feeling pretty damn good. Adam Lambert couldn’t have sung it any better. It was a new day.

Clearly, I needed to have sex more than twice a year.

“Good morning.” Nana was awake, in her slippers and her good blue housedress. She had all her bracelets on, her face done, but her hair was still rolled in curlers the size of coke cans. I think she said they added volume. She stared with ill-concealed interest at my throat. “What’s that on your neck?”

My hand crept to my throat of its own accord. I clutched my robe in my other fist. “I—”

She held up her hand, and jewelry cascaded down her arm in a clatter. “I don’t want to know.”

“That’s wise.” I sat down with the milk and Special K, my pleasant worldview intact. I concentrated on dumping sugar onto my breakfast. Bella twined around my ankles.

Bracelets clacked a warning. “Unless it has to do with that actor. Because, Caesar—”

“Nope.” I stuffed a spoonful of cereal in my mouth.

Nana puttered. She was going to be late for her Monday morning senior’s trip to the…somewhere. A museum? Maybe they were going shopping. Unlike my own empty dance card, she had so many social obligations it was hard to keep track.