[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Romance, M/M, HEA]
The Sheik was a shadow, a black suit, a terror on a motorcycle, a ghost that haunted the dirty streets of the ghetto. With a cop's badge on his chest and a Harley beneath him, his job was to rid the streets of crime. He busted every dealer, every prostitution ring, and every back-alley gambling ring until he finally owned the streets.
His real name was Johnny Pirelli, and in another life he was daredevil stunt rider, Johnny Blaze. And then one night Johnny finds a kid he thinks is worth saving. That kid's name is Blondie Lister, a street punk with blue eyes and a smart mouth, who, if he takes just one more step, will end up on death row. That night, in the midst of graffiti, gangs, and danger, the ghetto cop and the smart-mouthed street punk fall in love—beneath the blade of a knife.
A Siren Erotic Romance
Kelly Conrad is a Siren-exclusive author.
Blondie clammed up. Not another word. This guy was smart, and as tricky as hell. Another five minutes with him and he’d be spilling his guts. He couldn’t take the chance, so he got up to leave.
“Hey, where you goin’?”
“Home to my castle on the Riviera.”
The Sheik jumped up and came after him. “You know, you got a smart mouth on you, kid. If them blue eyes don’t do it, that mouth of yours will.” Tired of fooling with him, Johnny grabbed his arm. “I’m runnin’ you in for peein’ on the street.” Grabbing him by the arm, he pushed him out on the street.
“For what? I didn’t do that.”
“Yeah? You’re a street punk, ain’t ya? Where do you do your business? On the street right?”
“Okay, copper, if I’m gonna be accused of it, I might as well be guilty of it.”
When the Sheik looked down, he saw this son of a bitch holding his cock and peeing on his shoes. “Why you little creep! I oughtta—” He held his hand up to slap Blondie, but caught himself just in time. Instead, he jerked him toward his police cruiser.
“Go ahead. Hit me,” Blondie spat while struggling. “Ain’t that what you cops live for? Beatin’ up on some—”
“You watch your mouth.”
“Hey, copper, since we’re such good friends now, tell me where you live. Then instead of peein’ on the street, I’ll come over and pee on your doorstep, and then I’ll wash up in the stinkin’ rainwater that drips down off your house.”
“What the hell are you? Crazy?”
“Hey, I ain’t the one who’s crazy here,” Blondie yelled as he struggled to get away.
“Yeah, I’m crazy all right,” the Sheik said. “Crazy for wantin’ to save a hot-headed little bastard like you.”
“Then take your hands off me, and let me go back to my castle in Spain!”
“Hell no! You’ve done gone and made the Sheik mad, and if you know anything about me at all, you know that you don’t make the Sheik mad. Give me all the smart-ass answers you want to because before this is over, you’re gonna talk like a fuckin’ gentleman!”
Blondie began fighting harder and trying to jerk his arm out of the Sheik’s grasp, but the harder he struggled, the tighter the Sheik’s grip became. “You’re a fuckin’ bastard, you know that? And you’re way out of line here. I was just sittin’ there—”
“You didn’t pay for your iced tea,” the Sheik said as he pulled out his steel bracelets and clamped them on Blondie’s wrists.
“Handcuffs? Hey, what’s goin’ on here?”
“Simple, kid. You’re in the hands of the Sheik when he’s mad, and between you, me, and the streetlight there, I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”
“If it’s about the iced tea, I’ll work it off. Now let me go!”
“Too late, smart-ass. You’re mine tonight!”
Blondie struggled while Johnny continued to drag him along beside him. When they got to his police cruiser, he opened the door and pushed him in. Leaning down, he looked into Blondie’s blue eyes and said, “You know what? I’m enjoyin’ the hell out of this.”
“I’ll just bet you are,” Blondie said, and was just about to spit in his face when the Sheik moved away.
Rounding the cruiser, he slammed in, and said, “Your door there opens from the outside, so don’t even try to escape.”
“Let me out of here! You can’t take me in for one little old iced tea. A fuckin’ dollar and a quarter ain’t worth a night in jail.”
As Johnny drove, Blondie looked around, his head turning wildly. “Where the hell are we goin’? This ain’t the way to the precinct. I know what you’re doin’. You’re takin’ me out to some abandoned warehouse so you can kill me.”
Johnny snickered. “You kids watch too much damned TV.”
“Yeah? What kind of TV do you think I have livin’ in a Dumpster?”
Johnny just looked over at him and smiled as if he were amused. When they finally pulled up in front of a brownstone, he said, “Home sweet home.”
“Damn,” Blondie said, as he wilted back in his car seat. “I should have known you’d pull a fast one on me. Well, I’m tellin’ you right now, I ain’t stayin’ here.”
“Oh, yes you are. Know why?”
“Because you think you own this fuckin’ city. Well, listen here—”
“Because I’m bigger than you are, so you might as well face the fact that for tonight at least, you’re gonna sleep inside.”
“Another one of your sarcastic remarks?” the Sheik said as he lay over Blondie, feeling the contours of his body against his own.
The situation in the room was just too volatile. While they lay there hard against each other, the very atmosphere seemed to turn electric. Pure lust emanated from each one, surrounding them, infusing them, and turning the blood in their veins to fire. It was unavoidable. The Sheik could feel the ugly sin of lust as it crept into his loins, making him hard. He resisted it, pushed it away, but as strong as he was, the sin was even stronger, and it made him angry.
“You little bastard,” he growled. “This is the limit. If you think I’m gonna fuck you, think again. I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-fo—”
“Ten-foot pole?” Blondie interrupted. “No, not ten feet, more like ten inches, right? Well, remember this, Sheik, no matter how much you got, if you don’t know how to use it, it ain’t no good to you anyhow.”
“I could teach you a few things.”
“Yeah?” Blondie spat. “Prove it.” With that he began teasing him with a wiggle and a push, moving his own cock against the Sheik’s hard erection.
“Stop that!” the Sheik said as he struggled with him, his cock becoming so hard he almost felt pain.
“Don’t want to fuck me, huh? What the hell is that I’m feelin’ against my stomach?”
The Sheik didn’t answer. The next thing either of them knew, his lips were on Blondie’s. How had it happened? He didn’t know, but everything between them was real. Blondie didn’t fight. He surrendered to his hot and ravenous kiss. His tongue delved inside Blondie’s mouth with passion and need, taking all he offered and giving even more. He went from passion to passion until he remembered that he was still grasping the butcher’s knife with the point pressing against Blondie’s neck. His hand went limp, and the knife lost its threat as it lay between them. Forgetting it, he felt an insane desire to tear and pull at Blondie’s clothes.
He would have never thought he’d want a street punk, but there was something different about Blondie. He wouldn’t admit it, but he knew from the moment he got a look at Blondie that they would wind up in bed together. Their heated stares and longing glances fueled the desire between them, and now he breathed hard as he trailed a path with his tongue from Blondie’s lips to his ear and lingered there as he nibbled on his earlobe. Blondie’s large, masculine body responded to his touch, and he heard a moan fall from his lips as he began bucking, his legs opening in an invitation to fuck him.
As Johnny inhaled the kid’s heady scent of wind and musk, it made him more aware than ever what this little punk was doing to him. Desire exploded in waves, curling in his stomach, wrapping around his heart, and causing him to crave so much more than the heated touches they’d shared so far. He wanted to feel his bare skin against his. He needed to be inside him, to fill the aching emptiness he’d carried for so long, an ache he sensed only this little punk could satisfy. And that was the thought that brought him to his senses and forced him to break their electric connection and move backward, away from the fire he felt burning between them.
Oh, my God, what am I doing? he thought as he looked down at Blondie. At the one person who could take him to soaring heights—and destroy his dreams too easily. What was this little street punk thinking? He knew now that he couldn’t, or wouldn’t kill him, so why not make a fool out of him? He moved to get up, but Blondie held him. “Oh, God, don’t stop now, Sheik.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what? Don’t forget you’re the one who brought me here tonight.”
“To get fucked? I don’t think so.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t want to fuck. I know you do.”
“All right, so I do. But after that what?” The Sheik reached over and wiped a little blood off Blondie’s neck where he had pierced him with the knife, and showed it to him. “Look at this. We’ll be fucking with a damned knife in our bed. Makes for strange bedfellows, wouldn’t you say? But maybe you’re not worried about that.”
“Hell no, I ain’t worried about it. And I’m surprised that you are. If normal is what you want, you ain’t getting’ it here, Sheik. Nothin’ about this night is normal. Nothin’ about this town in normal. Nothin’ about the people that live here is normal. Especially a gang of killers that want you dead.”
“Okay, so what’ll they do to you if you come back without my heart in your hand?” He looked at his face through the shadows, and the messy blond hair that looked like a neon sign in the dark. “Or maybe after we fuck together, you’ll finish the job then. Right?”
“I can’t do it, and you know it.”
“I don’t know any such thing.”
“Look, I don’t know what’ll happen to me, but one thing I do know about myself is, I’m not a killer. I don’t intend to kill you, or anyone else. I guess I never did. Hell, I’ll just have to take my chances.”
Now, as he looked down into Blondie’s baby blue eyes, he felt the wildest passion he’d ever known. God, how he wanted him. Now. At that moment. He had to have this little punk while it was dark. To hide where no one could see his sin. Swimming deep in passion, he began sensuously rubbing Blondie’s chest, feeling the contours of the sturdy body that had surrendered to him.
At that point he gave in.