Crimes & Cocoktails Series
Tough, street-smart SFPD Detective Gabriel Sandalini is willing to do whatever it takes to bring down West Coast crime boss Ricco Botelli -- including a dangerous, deep undercover gig as one of Botelli's hired guns. But Gabriel's best laid plans may come crashing down around him when he falls hard for the sexy, suave lieutenant of a rival Mexican drug lord. Turns out his new love interest may have a few secrets of his own: secrets that could destroy both men and the fragile bond between them.
"I think..." There was a deliberate pause. "I'd prefer it the other way around."
Huh? Gabriel tried to remember exactly what he'd said, and hissed as he was unexpectedly hauled off the desk. Hands momentarily free, he lashed out, managing to land a couple of largely ineffectual blows at the other's head. A second later his arms were yanked behind his back, wrists pinioned by one large, capable hand.
Christ, this guy was strong. Gabriel felt a flicker of genuine alarm. Even if he really wanted free, he wasn't sure he'd manage it. Once again he was manhandled over the desk.
Fingers threaded his hair, caressing, curling through the long strands. "So soft," the big man murmured. "Like a kitten."
"K-kitten? I remind you of a goddamned kitten?" Gabriel stuttered his indignation, trying to shake off the tender touch. He didn't want tenderness, didn't want caresses. He tossed his head, but the questing fingers merely clamped in his hair, demanding stillness.
"Shhh." And the guy said it gently like he fully expected Gabriel to hush up now.
And appallingly Gabriel felt a melting in his gut, a desire to shut up and do whatever this prick told him to do. "I see," he sneered instead. "So what animal are you supposed to be?" He made his tone as offensive as he could. "A goat? A rooting, rutting pig maybe?"
The larger man sucked in a sharp breath, and the expansion of his chest pressed Gabriel against the desk's edge already biting into his hips.
"D'you...mind..." he gasped.
"I might," he was informed mildly. "I might be quite sensitive, gatito. You might have seriously hurt my feelings."
Once again the sonofabitch was laughing at Gabriel. He ground out, "Yeah, right. Okay, asshole. Fun is fun. Now let me up. I've got things to do and places to go. Not that this hasn't been a night to remember..."
A breath of tequila huffed against the side of his face, tickling his ear. "Is that what you really want, little tiger? You do not like my...attentions?"
Gabriel shivered as the man plastered himself closer still, his stiff member rubbing up and down Gabriel's ass. "You do not want my...warmth against your body?"
Gabriel swallowed hard. Yeah, he wanted the big man's warmth. He wanted his attentions all right. His ass was aching for something more than a rough rub through the layers of their clothing. But this was...it was outside of his experience, outside of his control. Why not admit it? This guy scared Gabriel. Yeah, a tough street cop, a guy who'd seen it all and even done a lot of it in the interests of justice, he was scared. His body was literally shaking with a crazy mix of desire and alarm.
He shook his head, not trusting his voice.
"We both know you're lying, mi gatito parvulo." A big hand slid between Gabriel's legs to grope the hard bulge there. "You desire me, si?"
"No, I don't see," Gabriel gritted. But, oh God, the feel of that big hand fondling him through the stiff denim of his jeans. It was all he could do not to beg.
The exploring hand found his waistband, and expertly worked the button fly of his jeans. Before Gabriel could do more than grunt out a protest, his Levi's were roughly dragged down. Cool air wafted over his bare cheeks as the jeans slid down his long strong legs to pool at his feet. He was left standing there in his jock strap.
"Silk," the big man murmured approvingly. "Yes. That is you. That is perfect."
Perfectly embarrassing, maybe.
Gabriel gulped, "Were you planning to do something, you faggot greaser or were you just going to admire my underwear all night?"
And the wisp of silk and elastic went with one swipe, freeing Gabriel's swollen cock to jut up against the polished wood of the huge desk. He started to turn, then thought better of it, tensing at the chink of a belt buckle. This was followed by the slide of a zipper. Gabriel stood frozen, the blood pounding dizzily in his ears. His cock was already leaking in excitement.
The big man said something soft in Spanish, something Gabriel couldn't quite catch, but the velvet growl of words nuzzled into his hair set his heart tumbling.
Long steely fingers wrapped around his shaft. The blunt, callused pad of a thumb slowly massaged the head, teasing the underside and tracing the now creamy slit. Gabriel bit his tongue to keep from moaning, but as the edge of that thumb smeared the pre-cum, a faint sound escaped him. His knees went weak. Gratefully he acknowledged the hard arm about his waist, only noticing then - distantly - that his hands were free. Good thing. He needed them to steady himself on the edge of the desk.
Hard callused fingers moved between his legs, exploring the tight sac and then leisurely moving on. A sliding caress of one angular hip and then the long blunt fingers slowly traced the crack of Gabriel's taut ass.
Then came the delicate press of a thick fingertip on the hot pink hole of Gabriel's anus.
"Holy mother!" the man said huskily. "You feel so ripe, so ready for me."
Gabriel moaned again, shivering. "Oh...fuck!"
The fingers pierced him slowly, sweetly. Slickly. Slickly? Lube? Where had this guy got lube? Was he some kind of always prepared sexual Boy Scout or had he found it in a desk drawer? It wasn't hard to believe in this place: tubes of KY dispensed with the bottles of Wite-Out.
"Is that a request, gatito?" The man pressed his lips next to Gabriel's ear. The hand holding Gabriel's straining cock in its callused warmth stilled. "Because if it isn't, I'll stop now." Though the voice was no less seductive, an undertone of inflexibility cut through the haze of Gabriel's lust. "I have no wish to take what is not truly desired."
Gabriel twisted, staring back at the stern handsome face watching his own. The big man's cock was nestled hotly in the crease of his ass. His own shaft rested trustingly in the other's tight grip. And now the guy wanted to discuss it? Jesus fucking - no pun intended - Christ!
Of course Gabriel wanted him. He wanted this man with every fiber of his being, but he hated being forced to admit it out loud.
Tall, dark, and perverse's moral soft spot was going to spoil the whole goddamned thing. It was part of the game Gabriel played with himself. He relied on the illusion that he was being physically forced, restrained against his will, overpowered by a greater strength and will than his own. He craved the pretense of his helpless submission - and this man with his hard hands and silken voice, his velvety kisses and brutal strength was Gabriel's fondest wet dream come true. A man who instinctively knew it took more than just a thick cock to take Gabriel to the peak of sexual ecstasy.
But not if they had to talk about it for chrissake!
The blunt head of the man's cock rubbed over his fluttering asshole, and Gabriel deliberately pushed backward. The tip of the slick, thick cock nudged into his ring of tight, quivering muscle. Gabriel groaned and thrust his hips to gain more of the deliciously teasing shaft. But infuriatingly, the big dick didn't shove past his sphincter muscle.
Wet lips brushed over his ear and drew a line of moisture down his neck. "Yes, gatito?"
The words tore out of him. He couldn't help it. "Yes! You cholo bastard. Yes!"
In one long smooth stroke the stout cock sheathed itself to the hilt in Gabriel's taut body. The man whispered into the crook of his neck. "Spanish, my little gatito. Not Mexicano. Not Americano. You are conquered by a true son of Spain."
"Like I give a shit." Gabriel gasped fretfully, "Just fuck me blind."
"Si, mi gatito, si. I will give you what you most desire."
Slow, strong, thrusts jarred Gabriel's teeth and knocked his bobbing hard-on into the desk with a heavy thud at each languid stroke. He could have wept at that solacing mix of pain and pleasure.