“So why are you doing it?”
Bruce’s eyes widened, and Laddin could see he’d hit the bull’s-eye. Bruce was a guy who relied on his instincts. He was practical by nature and decisive in a crisis. And he probably didn’t spend a lot of time figuring out why he did the things he did.
“Maybe I’m lonely too,” Bruce said, his voice rough with challenge.
“When were you with your last girl?”
Bruce swallowed. “A couple weeks ago.”
“So it’s not a loneliness problem. You probably get laid whenever you want. Firefighter groupies, if I had to guess.”
Bruce nodded.
“So what’s riding you now?”
Panic filtered across Bruce’s expression. He didn’t want to look into his motives, and he sure as hell didn’t want to think he was suddenly gay or bi or whatever. He was going with the flow, and Laddin had to decide if that was what he wanted. A quick fuck with a hot guy who needed the distraction. Was that enough for him?
Tonight? Yes. On a night when he was likely to have cheese nightmares, a hot fuck was the perfect distraction.
“I don’t need an answer,” he said as he began stroking his fist up and down Bruce’s shaft. Bruce’s breath caught and his eyes shuttered to half-mast. “But you’ll need to figure it out for yourself tomorrow.”
“It’s just a fast fuck,” Bruce whispered.
“Nothing’s going to be fast, boy,” he said, making his voice rough as he challenged the alpha guy. After all, Bruce was the young one here, in terms of being a werewolf and of gay sex.
Sure enough, Bruce stiffened at the term. And his expression sharpened in response. “You promised me a ride,boy.” He shoved his hips upward as he punctuated the sentence. “That’s what I want. And that’s what you’re going to give me.”
Laddin grinned. The mood was established, the terms clear. A hard fuck with no consequences. He could work with that. Hell, he was going to love that. But Bruce was going to get a whole lot more than he bargained for.
“Then let’s get started.”
Chapter 12
LADDIN SPEAKS HIS MIND AND BRUCE LOSES HIS
BRUCE HADno idea how he managed to turn back to human. One second he was trying to comfort Laddin with a doggie nuzzle. The next second he was kissing the guy. But never in his life had he been more grateful to be a man.
Laddin pushed him backward and began devouring his mouth. The kiss was simple, thorough, and wholly exciting. And though Bruce pushed back—he thrust into Laddin’s mouth and ground against him—it was Laddin who was in control and Bruce who opened. And that threw Bruce so badly, he had no choice but to give way completely.
Before, he’d always been the dominant partner in sex. He picked the woman, he carefully pursued her. If she said yes, he felt wanted in the most primal of ways, and that eased the guilt he carried for being such an asshole when he was younger. But always he chose the woman, he gave what he wanted and no more, and he was driven by his own needs.
Not this time.
For the first time in his life, he didn’t have a clue what he needed or why. Except that Laddin kissed him as if he wanted to own Bruce. Not as a slave, but as a favorite toy to play with, to enjoy, to bang against the floor and tear open to see how the insides worked. And Bruce wanted that too, because he didn’t know who he was anymore. If Laddin could find that out, Bruce would give him anything he wanted. And maybe together they’d be able to figure out the parts that made up the man. Or the wolf. Or whatever he was now.
So when Laddin started kissing down his chest, he let his head flop back and closed his eyes in surrender. His dick was thrusting upward, searching for more, but Bruce didn’t even try to control it. He let it do as it wanted and waited for whatever Laddin chose to do.
Laddin was patient in ways that Bruce had never been. The way he kissed Bruce was steady, thorough, and methodical. Each rib was nipped in careful exploration. His nipples were worked in precise ways. Tongue first, teeth next, and then a pinch that had his hips bucking like a bronco.
And all the while, Laddin kept one hand wrapped firmly around Bruce’s cock, as if he was holding the reins in a hard fist. He let Bruce thrust and squirm, but he flowed with the movements, never giving Bruce the friction he wanted. If Bruce pushed up, Laddin’s fist went with him. If Bruce drew back or shifted his hips or even pulsed with need, Laddin simply rode with the angle and occasionally squeezed. Laddin’s grip stopped any possible release and kept Bruce’s hot pulses of hunger from overflowing.
Bruce was exhaling hot bellows of need, but they didn’t change Laddin’s thorough exploration of his nipples, then belly. Then, finally—mercifully—he brought his mouth to Bruce’s dick.
Bruce waited with breath suspended for Laddin’s grip to ease. His entire focus was centered on that fist and the moment it would let him slide up and down.
But it didn’t move. Instead, Laddin licked at his tip—a tiny brush that echoed through his whole body. And again. That slow lollipop lick felt like a tongue laving every part of his flesh. Somehow the tip of his dick had become everything he was. And when Laddin’s fist slipped lower and his mouth teased across the entire head, Bruce shook with the sensations. No part of him remained untouched. Then, when Laddin began to suck, his mouth moving with glacier-like progress, Bruce felt himself wholly engulfed.
Wet. Heavy. Inevitable. Unstoppable.
