“You are determined to make me a saint.” His fingers crept up, along the inside of Joa’s thigh.
“I am?” Joa’s lips parted, wet with the beer, pink tongue flicking out.
“It seems so, huh?” Oh. Balta leaned closer, like a wolf scenting the air. “I am not.”
“I should. I should not drink so fast, eh? Makes me flushed.”
“It does. Makes you hard in your pants, too.” The back of his hand just brushed the hardness. “Like a good ride.”
Joa blushed dark, head ducking. “I try not to.”
“Why?” Poorbebe. Joa could be so innocent. “There is nothing wrong with it.”
“It…” Joa’s voice dropped. “Balta, it is a sin.”
“Is it?” Maybe it was, but it felt so good. Balta loved God, but he wasn’t sure the Almighty cared about that stuff. Or about bull-riding, though he’d never say it out loud.
“The priests say so.”
“Ah. Well, if you knew how many of them indulged.” He winked, trying to lighten the mood.
Joa chuckled, leaned back. “I do crunches on Sunday morning.”
“I know. While I sit in church.” Balta usually skipped the cowboy church, though, opting for a local priest.
“Sim. See? The cowboy saint.”
“Stop.” Balta leaned so close that his eyelashes brushed Joa’s cheek. “Me beija.” Yes. Kiss me. Let me kiss you.
“Balta?” Joa turned, their lips barely brushing together, barely touching.
“Sim.” He needed it like a man in the desert needed water. Balta turned his head, kissing Joa full on the mouth. Their first kiss. He tasted hops and mint from the toothpicks Joa chewed on, and underneath that was something male and heady, something he needed more of.
Balta reached up, sliding a hand behind Joa’s head to hold him in place. They kissed slowly, not so deep at first, then harder. Joa opened for him like an unlocked door, promising him pleasure and desire. Sweet. Likedoce de leite. Oh, that would be good, too, but it could wait until much later. Right now, he needed to stay simple.
Soft sounds pressed into his lips; Joa’s eyes fell shut, his fingers opening and closing near his thighs. Balta took one of Joa’s hands in his, lifting it to press against his chest. He needed Joa to touch him, too.
The moan he got thrilled him as much as a bull that turned into his hand, Joa’s fingers sliding like water over his chest.
“Mmm.” His pleasure rumbled out of him in a tangible way, the sound all about praise.
The curious touch climbed up to his throat, dipping into the hollow, stroking the rough skin there. Inching closer, Balta pushed down to hold Joa against him, fingers splayed over the small of Joa’s strong back. Soon he would take off the shirt, feel that bare skin.
“I shouldn’t…” Joa’s hips rolled against him, that heavy cock full, waiting for him.
“I want you to.” Coercion? Oh,sim. He was not above it.
“I want… I watch.” Joa groaned, pushed back into their kiss. Yes. Joa watched him like a hawk. Like a dog who was starving for a bone. And he kissed as if Balta was the only thing in his world.
Balta let his hand drop down, just barely brushing the swell of Joa’s ass in the denim. He waited, testing the reaction. Some men never took well to such things. Joa was sensual enough to like it, if he let himself. When Joa arched, muscled body bucking a bit, Balta had to bite back his cry of triumph.
He slid his lips across Joa’s jaw, tracing the strong shape, and dipped his fingers lower. Just a tiny bit. Joa moved like he wasriding, the motion unconscious and easy. It made Balta’s mouth dry, made his cock beat against his zipper. His need was on him, pushing him, and he didn’t want to scare Joa.
Their lips parted, Joa blinking, dazed and so beautiful. “Balta. I.”
“Shh. Not unless you’re going to tell me you want more.” He smiled, grazing Joa’s lips.
Joa groaned, lips following his touch. Sensual man. Humming, Balta pressed against the center of Joa’s lower lip. He’d bet Joa had no idea how many nerves lived there. Joa’s tongue slipped out, stroked the tip of his finger. Those eyes never left his, not for a moment.
