An Erotic Collection Volume 2 Read online

  Dean snorted lightly. “Yeah? The fuck you getting at, Jacob? You want me to suck your cock?”

  Jacob rubbed at his crotch without breaking the gaze. He knew just how to work this, that little bastard. He’d known Dean all of two weeks and already had his number. Not that Dean was going to admit it, hell no. No guy got under his skin, not that he’d let on. Ever.

  “Sure,” Jacob said with a raised brow.

  In answer, Dean grabbed Jacob’s belt. Undid the buckle. Then the zipper. He freed Jacob’s dick, stroking it from half-hard to full-on wood in half a minute after that. Jacob swallowed hard, eyes getting heavy-lidded.

  “You think I don’t suck cock?” Dean breathed, voice husky in anticipation.

  “Well,” Jacob said, feigning a nonchalance made obviously false by the tremor in his tone, “you haven’t sucked mine.”

  Dean laughed at that, still stroking until Jacob pushed his hips forward. “Your spaghetti’s going to get cold.”

  “I…like…cold spaghetti.” Jacob’s voice broke on a gasp, and that was all the impetus Dean needed.

  He went to his knees and yanked down Jacob’s jeans at the same time, baring the other man’s body and gripping his tight ass. Jacob’s cock was thick and hard, bobbing upward at the release from tight denim. Dean captured it at the base with one fist. His mouth found it next, and he slid Jacob’s cock deep into the back of his throat.

  Dean closed his eyes.

  Not because he didn’t want to see what he was doing. He liked watching, as a matter of fucking fact, but this was different. On his knees, giving head, was different than looking down at someone in the same place. On his knees, Dean liked to lose himself in the smells and sounds, the taste of whoever he was fucking. He let go of Jacob’s ass to put Jacob’s hand on the back of his head, curling Jacob’s fingers into his hair. Urging him to guide the pace, if he wanted.

  Yeah, Dean liked being on top. Fucking. But he wasn’t averse to giving pleasure, either, and it was always, always better when the other person felt comfortable enough to say what they liked. Or show him. Dean wasn’t above admitting he could be an asshole, but never let it be said he was a selfish lover.

  “Fuck.” Jacob’s fingers tightened in Dean’s hair and his hips pumped. “Fuck, baby, that’s so fucking good.”

  Baby?

  Dean paused at the endearment, his fist sliding up to meet his lips as his mouth came down. Jacob didn’t stop moving, fucking into Dean’s hand and mouth. And after the barest moment, Dean went on. Sex talk didn’t mean anything.

  Then it didn’t matter what Jacob said, because Dean unzipped his own jeans and pulled his cock free. Now came the complicated dance of hands and mouth, stroking and sucking at the same time. He had to catch up-Jacob was already making the low sound in the back of his throat Dean had come to recognize as his prelude to coming.

  “Wait, wait.” Jacob tugged harder on Dean’s hair until Dean looked up.

  It took Dean a second to understand Jacob wanted him to stop. Who the fuck ever wanted him to stop when he was blowing him? Dean looked up, one fist still pumping Jacob’s dick, the other his own. “What?”

  “I just…want…” Jacob licked his lips and swallowed, then cupped Dean’s cheek. “Stand up.”

  Dean did with a quizzical laugh. Two men, pants around their ankles, cocks hard. His laugh slid into a groan when Jacob pulled him by the back of the neck to kiss him. It was a hard kiss, but not punishing. Jacob sucked Dean’s tongue as his hand curled around Dean’s dick.

  “Use your hand on me,” Jacob said as he stroked. “I want to make you come. I want your mouth on mine when you come all over my hand.”

  This was not what Dean had expected but fuck, Jacob was jerking him just right and the kiss went on and on, getting hotter by the second. Nothing to do but stroke Jacob’s cock, too. They fell into mutual rhythm.

  His balls got heavy, his cock impossibly harder. The kiss stuttered and broke as Jacob gasped. Dean didn’t have the breath to gasp. He was going to come….

  Jacob came first. Heat and slickness filled Dean’s palm. Pleasure exploded out of him. He found the breath to groan.

  Panting, Jacob kissed him again. Soft, this time. He still cupped Dean’s cock, but his other hand came up to hold the back of Dean’s neck. Forehead to forehead, he smiled.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey,” Dean said.

  Jacob looked between them. “That was hot.”

  Dean laughed, shaking his head. “It was definitely not what I was expecting when you told me you wanted me to suck you off.”

  Jacob reached behind him to grab up a dish towel, wiping his hands and handing it to Dean. “Baby, I am not what you are expecting.”

  Dean wiped his hands and put himself back in his jeans before stepping back. “Is that so?”

  Jacob licked his forefinger and drew a “one” in the air. “That. Is so.”

  It was a good cue to leave. After all, they’d both already gotten off. Dean’s stomach was rumbling, but dinner was cold and he could pick up something on the way home. He’d already spent last night with this guy. And the morning.

  Jacob looked over his shoulder at the sink and the pot with the now-cold pasta. “This will only take a minute to warm up. You staying?”

  Dean leaned to kiss him, relishing the taste of salt and beer on Jacob’s mouth. “Sure.”

  * * *

  Late-night conversations. Katie loved them. Darkness and distance provided by the phone made intimacy, and she loved that, too.

  Jimmy was good at late-night talk. Jimmy had a voice like melting butter, all warm and soft and sweet. Rich. It didn’t matter what he was saying, really. He told stories like some men built houses, layer by layer and piece by piece, until Katie realized hours had passed and dawn was breaking.

  He’d make love like that, too.

  Katie wondered if she’d ever find out. She’d met Jimmy weeks ago. He’d flirted with her right away. Asked for her number. He’d actually called, too, something that had surprised her since guys like Jimmy always said they’d call but never did.

  Katie wasn’t sure just how they’d fallen into late-night discussions about old movies, art, books, music. About their favorite colors and foods. All she knew was that she told Jimmy things she hadn’t told any guy in a long time, and nothing she said ever seemed to put him off or be too much. Katie had spilled her guts about a lot of things from her most embarrassing moment to her secret fetish for knitted slippers.

  They had become friends, and that was great, but Katie was beginning to wonder if that’s all it would ever be.

  “You stand in front of three doors,” Jimmy said. “What color are they, what is behind each, and which do you pick?”

  Katie laughed. “Where do you come up with these?”

  “I have a book. Two hundred and seven of the most obscure questions to ask a beautiful woman.”

  At least he’d said she was beautiful. Katie cleared her throat. “Let me think about it. You go first.”

  “That’s not fair. I’ve had time to think about it longer than you have.”

  “Tell me anyway,” Katie told him and settled deeper into the blankets.

  “The doors are red, blue and purple. I pick the blue one.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” Jimmy said, “blue’s your favorite color and I bet you’re behind it.”

  Heat twisted through her. “And what about the other doors?”

  “I don’t open them,” Jimmy told her, “so I have no idea what’s behind them.”

  “Good answer.”

  “Your turn.”

  Katie couldn’t begin to think about doors and colors and what was behind them. Or rather, she could think, but every door she imagined was glass, each had Jimmy behind it, and no matter how hard she tried, she could open none of them. She sighed.

  “Tell me something else, Jimmy.”

  “Like what?”

  “What’s your favorite poem? Do you have