Lucky pushed back as much as possible, but the handcuffs and unyielding brick kept him upright when Bo slid inside.
He closed his eyes. Nothing gentle, nothing sweet. Brutal. Honest. Two men completely caught up in the moment and each other.
The whole department suddenly showing up wouldn’t change a thing. No way to stop. Too amazing to end.
Bo wrapped his mouth around Lucky’s shoulder muscle. Snapping his hips faster, he moaned low, a familiar sound sending shock waves through Lucky.
Lucky bucked back, urging his partner on. Hard, fast, rough.
Sex.
With the hottest man on the planet.
Perfect.
Bo stiffened and jerked. Nothing else existed. Lucky. Bo. The throbbing of Bo’s release deep within.
And the wondrous pressure inside vanished.
Bo turned him and knelt. Lucky stood with his back to the wall once more, his cock engulfed in heat, Bo gripping his thighs and making good use of the leverage. Oh, God yes! Lucky let go with a shout. Pulse after pulse, straight into Bo’s mouth. Who cared who heard his cries?
Bo rose, wrapped his arms around Lucky, and held on. Lucky collapsed against the solid comfort of Bo’s chest, the steadyka-thump, ka-thumpof Bo’s heart keeping time with the thumping from the club.
He swayed a bit while Bo tucked his sensitized cock back into his now-way-too-tight jeans.
Without a word, Bo retrieved and returned his fallen hat to his head. “I know it’s not until tomorrow, but Happy Birthday. I’m sorry I’m not home to spoil you.” A few clicks and the cuffs dropped free.
Lucky rubbed circulation back into his wrists. “What about…”
Bo placed a finger over Lucky’s lips, gave him a sad smile, and disappeared into the club, twirling his handcuffs and whistling.
Time to go, folks. Show’s over.Lucky crumpled back against the wall, rubbing his abused wrists and still feeling the rasp of bricks against his chest.
Gradually, his racing heartbeat slowed, and he recovered a few of his senses. Too cold to stand in a dark alley wishing Bo would come back.
He plodded to the car. Alone.
Damn it.
Johnson leaned against the Camaro. Her smile fell when he approached. “Did I do a bad thing?”
He couldn’t blame her for arranging his few minutes with his lover. She’d never understand how badly leaving without Bo hurt. Unlocking the car and sliding behind the steering wheel kept Lucky from having to answer.
Johnson settled in beside him and glanced out the side window. “Clear on my side.”
Lucky pulled out of the parking lot and aimed the car downtown.
For too many years he and Bo had slaved away for the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau, going undercover, putting themselves at risk for the greater good. The job started as a death wish. Lucky wouldn’t have cared if a drug dealer’s bullet put him out of his misery. Why did he deserve to live?
After a while he got his thrills from taking down the bad guys. Being smarter. Proving his worth to himself, if no one else. Then he’d met Bo. Let his guard down. Let Bo in. Now his former adrenaline rush kept him up at night. What if something happened to him? To Bo? They’d made a life together. Bought a house.
Hell, they were as good as married.
Married. Crap. A few years ago, such a commitment wouldn’t even have crossed his mind. Who would’ve thought marriage equality would ever come to the South and open doors for men like him to get all legal?
Marriage. Lucky’s parents’ marriage had lasted over forty years, and they seemed to be happy. At least they’d been the last time Lucky laid eyes on them. Walter and his wife married fifty years ago and still doted on each other. His sister’s marriage crashed and burned, but she’d married young, while still gullible enough to believe a lowlife shithead’s promises.
But Bo and Lucky. Married?
