STORY EXCERPT

Nehemiah

The warm breeze had been pleasant enough on the drive, brushing over my face and arms like a soft touch. But now it was working against me, carrying with it the humidity from hell.

The A/C stopped working three days after I’d purchased the Nissan Altima. A week later I had to replace two tires because the treads were, as the mechanic put it, thinner than his last paycheck.

Not to say I got scammed, but if the Nissan had come with a “Kick Me” sign, I’d have worn it with less embarrassment. Three weeks. Three. It squeaked when I turned. The windows rolled down uneven, so they rattled and howled like the world’s shittiest wind chimes at every stoplight. The seats had a smell. Not quite “wet dog,” not quite “mystery sandwich”—something in-between. Dealer said the car was a steal. His crime? Grand theft hope.

But I was here, anyway. Or, at least, somewhere.

The back road rolled on for miles, slicing through old cow pastures and sagging wire fence. Sun wrung the sweat out of me. My hair stuck to the side of my face, limp and unimpressed, while the rest of me simmered like a pot of collard greens left too long on a burner.

I always wanted to be the twink who looked cool behind the wheel, sunglasses low, lips pursed, music turned up. Instead, I was praying to whatever gay saint oversaw lost causes, begging this car just to make it past the next patch of scrub.

The engine hiccuped, choked, then lurched forward, practically giving me whiplash. Just as I passed an old barn, the dashboard lit up like a disco in hell. Lights everywhere. Red, yellow, more red.

One last feeble gasp, and the Nissan sputtered to an unceremonious halt. Right on the shoulder, baking in the noon sun.

I smacked the steering wheel. “Don’t you dare.” My voice went shrill. “Of-fucking-course you would dare!”

As soon as the car stopped, sweat started rolling ticklish down the slope of my back into my waistband. I was breathing in the leftover scent of disappointment, with just a hint of whatever died in the A/C vents.

No way was I walking back to town in this heat. Temptation was at least five miles behind me.

I popped the door. The metal was so hot, I nearly yelped as I touched it.

Stepping out, the air hit me like a slap—even heavier than inside. The bright sun bounced off the road, nearly blinding me, and the humidity was so thick, you could probably swim in it if you did the breaststroke just right.

I used the hem of my pastel tank top to wipe my forehead. If some cowboy in a pickup happened to roll by, he might’ve thought I was giving him a show. The only thing getting turned on right now was the temperature. The reality was less Magic Mike and more swamp creature who just lost a fight with a raggedy-ass car. I was just sticky, salty as fuck, and seriously over it.

The hood of the Altima still ticked and hissed. I was tempted to kick it, but instead, I did the next best thing. I stalked over to the rear bumper and started whacking my shoe repeatedly into the back tire. Not too hard. Just enough to send a message. Take that, rubber!

It shouldn’t have felt good. But it did. So I kept at it. Thud, thud, thud.

I was muttering to myself, something about never trusting anyone named “Mick” who wore a pinky ring, when the deep, throaty hum of a motorcycle cut through the air somewhere behind me.

Turning my head, I froze mid-kick, foot still poised, and watched as the loud, predatory bike shot past in a flash of chrome. The guy riding it? He was the thunder behind the storm.

The rider slowed and made a U-turn in the road, angling back toward me. I stopped breathing as he pulled in behind my crappy Nissan.

Holy hell.

I had time to look him over as he swung his long leg off the bike and stood to his full height. Six-three, easy. More muscle than should be legal. A leather cut worn over a pale-blue T-shirt that stretched across his shoulders, and I mean stretched, like it was about to rip if he so much as sneezed. Tattoos covered both arms from those poor, overworked sleeves down to his wrists, and I would’ve happily spent a whole afternoon tracing every line.

My nose twitched with the urge to sneeze.

His tan came from being outside, not a bottle. Hair fell to his shoulders in thick, wavy layers, dark brown and streaked here and there like he’d spent half his life in the sun.

His smile was lazy, a little crooked. And when his eyes met mine?

I nearly had to grip the car for support. They were a deep, burnished umber. I had never, in my actual life, seen eyes that color. Warm as whiskey, but sharper. Like you’d pour one shot for pleasure, and the other for trouble.

He sized me up in a glance.

“Car problem?” he asked, voice pitched somewhere between velvet and gravel.

I remembered how to breathe, finally, but only barely. “What tipped you off? My screaming, or the fact that I was assaulting a tire?”

“Definitely the assault.” The smile spread slowly, like he had nowhere better to be. Lord. Up close, he was even worse. Or better. Depending on how you looked at it, which I was doing, zero shame.

ADULT EXCERPT

Sledge

I got the button open with my teeth, because I could, and looked up to see his reaction.

His head had lifted off the pillow, mouth hanging open. He was watching me through his lashes with an expression I wanted to keep. “That’s a party trick,” he rasped.

“Wait for the encore.”

The zipper went down. I hooked my fingers in his shorts and briefs together and stripped them down his legs in one long pull. His cock sprang up against his belly, flushed and slick at the tip, twitching with his pulse. He wasn’t small, not by a long shot. I wrapped my hand around his dick just to watch the contrast one more time.

“You keep doing that,” he panted.

“Doing what?”

“Looking at me like I’m the last taco.”

Slowly, I stroked him, from root to head, making his thighs shake. “You are the last taco.”

I spit into my palm and stroked my cock, letting him see the shine coat the crown. His eyes tracked every move.

“Wanna taste?” I asked.

He sat up, lips brushing the tip, tongue flicking out to catch a drop, then swirling the slit with obscene focus.

It was as if he was trying to suck my brain out through my dick.

I palmed the back of his head and fucked the tip farther into his mouth. He moaned, loud, wanton. His cock jerked upward. He was so goddamn ready. Could’ve finished him with a single good fuck.

But I wanted more. Wanted him wrung out, begging, so cock-hungry he’d never forget who did this to him.

It took every ounce of concentration to pull my cock from between those amazing lips.

“Lube?”

Nehemiah waved a hand toward his nightstand, then he crawled up the bed and kissed the very breath from my lungs.

I laid him back, grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand, snapped it open, and poured a thick, cold stream over my fingers.

The scent of his arousal was wreaking havoc on my senses. My control was fading fast. I trailed slick fingers down his balls, teasing his taint, then circled his hole. He shivered, hands clutching at the sheets.

He was so sensual, so damn responsive. I wanted to devour him in the most pleasurable way.

“You gonna behave?” I asked.

“We’ve met, right?” he shot back, brat to the last.

With one hand holding his hip, I pushed a single finger inside his ass, all the way to the knuckle, and he gasped at the intrusion. His hole clenched, then fluttered open around me. I worked him slow, then added another finger, scissoring them to stretch him wider, savoring every delicious groan that escaped his lips.

I twisted my wrist, dragging over his nerve endings, then curled my fingers just right. His cock jerked again.

“Feel good?” I asked, voice gone hoarse with lust.

He nodded frantically, eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving.

“Use your words, cupcake.”

He panted. “Feels incredible. Never felt anything like it. Fuck, I want you so bad.”

After pulling my fingers free, I slicked more lube on my cock and rested the blunt tip at his puckered hole.

“Watch me,” I murmured.

He looked down, breath hitching, and saw my cock pushing at his rim. The head sank in. He whined. I gave him an inch, then another, waiting for his body to catch up.

He buried his nails in my biceps, clinging like I’d throw him off the bed. I shuddered as I sank deeper, his ass gripping my cock so tightly my jaw clenched.

“So good,” he gritted out. “Not gonna survive this.”

I grinned and pushed deeper. “You can take it. I know you can.”

He moaned again, but this time it was want, not pain.

Once I bottomed out, thick cock balls-deep inside him, he let out something between a sob and a gasp. “Stay like that. Just…don’t move. Let me get used to it.” I held, twitching inside him, leaning down to nip his neck.

He let out a helpless moan that twisted in my ear like a live wire. The sound was nothing short of desperate, a dead-on match for how I felt, right down to the pulse thumping heavy through my cock.

Pulling his head to the side, I nuzzled up behind his ear and gave the lobe a slow, wet drag of tongue. He bowed his neck and offered more, his body greedy for it, and I pressed in harder, burying my face in the spot where his pulse jackhammered so sweet and fast. His scent drifted up, coconut and sex. I licked it up like it was the best thing I’d ever tasted.

He clung, nails working in at my biceps, his legs gone taut around my hips. The hot grip of his ass flexed around my cock, every twitch up my length setting a spark in my gut. I started rocking, real slow, careful not to get ahead of his body’s pace. Every time I drew back, his rim stretched, then sucked me back in, and fuck me, the way he took me made my head fizz.

His breath came back uneven. “Sledge,” he gasped. “I’ve never had anyone like you.”

I nearly grinned but kept moving, sliding in just a little deeper with each thrust. I liked hearing him say it. Liked knowing that this was going to be branded on him forever.

“Yeah? You love being full of me, don’t you?”

His mouth flapped uselessly for a beat before he managed, “Yes. Yes, Sledge, fuck.”

His voice could’ve melted steel. I brought my hand up and cupped his jaw, forcing his glassy eyes to lock onto mine. “Look at you, Nehemiah. You’re hungry for it. Open and needy. Goddamn perfect.”

His face flushed beet-red, and I soaked it in. That color? It was mine now. His body, spread out under me, wrung out and wild, also mine. The sweat stood out on his upper lip, his naked body gleaming in streaks where I’d mapped him with my hands and mouth.

Then I started fucking him for real.