Chapter 2
“Hey.”
The way the tall blond hunk had been turned, with his legs splayed, his orange True Religion skinny jeans tight, his bulge enticing, his crotch inviting, Stone’s gaze had quickly traveled there. Though nearly impossible to look anywhere but, when he’d forced himself to try, he’d caught a pair of blue eyes staring back at the same exact spot on him.
“Hey.”
Stone had given those eyes something to look at, by flexing what he packed behind the zipper, hoping the movement wouldn’t go unnoticed, while the pants’ size on the brand label would.
He’d told Stone he was at Adam’s to escape dysfunctional family holiday bullshit. Stone had mentioned his concert in California and his prowess on the skins. After those few seconds of conversation and eight bucks for a drink Stone hadn’t even tasted, they’d practically run across the wet, slippery street to the motel.
“I want you so fucking bad,” the stranger had said, pinning Stone to the exterior’s dark red chipping paint and splinters.
“You do?”
“Fuck, yes!” Under the overhang that almost kept the rain off and enough blinding wattage to create an X-ray, “Show me your cock,” Joe Hollywood demanded.
“Not a problem.” At the time, Stone couldn’t wait to be on top of him, bare skin to bare skin, with nothing between them but perspiration and a condom. Now, here they were. The sound of lighter rain interrupted only by guttural grunts, sloppy wet mouths on sensitive body parts, heavy breathing, and dirty talk.
“Eat that ass.”
“Like a buffet at Denny’s.” The guy’s tongue work turned out to be stellar, even if his dialogue wasn’t. He slapped Stone’s ass again, as Stone dismounted and stood on wobbly legs. “Where ya going, Drummer Boy?”
The large, red handprint Stone looked at in the mirror across the room only darkened in the four steps it took to get there, he could see in the room light.
Stone Larrabee was having sex with the lights on!
“Be right back.” After bracing himself against the top of the rickety dresser no doubt bolted to the studs in the wall, he bent over to reach into his bag on the floor in front of it.
“Mmm. Hot as fuck.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Stone held the position longer than necessary, showing himself off, then hiking the condom like a football between his open legs.
“Get back here, though.” Joe Hollywood tore it open with his teeth, then wagged his delectable stiff cock. “And put it on me.”
“Anything you want.”
“I want to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.”
“Oh, boy!”
The guy had a rhythm once inside Stone that brought to mind a melody. Stone started hummingJingle Bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way, a slow, bluesy rendition from the setlist in the showHe hadn’t even been aware, not until the last two notes, when Joe stopped grinding against his ass. “Maybe save the Christmas carols for December, okay, buddy?”
The snark was punctuated with another hard ass slap, leaving Stone feeling scolded. The worst part of his day job was disciplining his students, making them feel bad, when he had to be mean old Mr. Larrabee. Now, on the other end, if felt even worse. “Sorry. Music is in me. Sometimes it wants to come out.”
Stone soon forgot about his bruised ego, though, as he surrendered again to the stranger’s rhythm, now banging more allegretto than allegro against Stone’s furry flesh.
“Ohgmnm!” Words proved impossible, but an exclamation of immense, erotic pleasure was necessary. Belly down, Stone grabbed the man’s large, sweaty hand and buried his face in it, enjoying the aroma of all the intimate places it had explored on both of their bodies. Stone mouthed the palm, and then used teeth.
“Oh. Drummer Boy wants to play rough?”
“Fuck, yeah.” But then, second thoughts came. “Not too rough.”
The best lay ever chuckled. “Got it.” He grabbed Stone’s face and put his mouth to his throat, first lips, then teeth, like Stone had. Joe spoke there. “Just rough enough to get you off and make you beg for more.”
The full weight of him, probably fifty to sixty pounds less than Stone’s, felt good rising and falling as they went full on. “Come for me,” Stone said.
“Your wish is my demand.”
Rubbing himself into the wrinkles in the sheet, as the cock inside him went deeper, brought shivers and involuntary moans from Stone’s throat. “Your wish is—”
Joe Hollywood cut him off, as he slammed hard against his ass three or four more times, and then came. It was obvious when it happened, and when it was over, warm, wet breath against Stone’s ear nearly matched the erotic sensation of the grinding and hard thrusts that brought it. Another carol, “Joy to the World”wanted to come out in more humming. It was a way to hold off, maybe, like some guys recited baseball stats in their head. If Stone sang full out, he figured he might last through the four-minute tune. If not, he might not be able to hold back four seconds.