Don't Read in the Closet volume one (93 page)

“Oh God, Marty
make me come.” Marty wrapped his hand around Jacob’s cock, a few firm strokes
was all it took before his friend cried out and shot his load, coating Marty’s
hand with stickiness.

The grip of
Jacob’s ass around his cock as Jacob came undid Marty. He gave a hoarse shout
and slammed into Jacob as his orgasm took him so hard he saw stars. When his
body finally ceased its shudders. Marty collapsed on Jacob.

Jacob wrapped
his arms around Marty’s back and held him tight. “That was amazing,” Jacob
said,
the words breathy and soft.

All Marty could
do was nod against his chest. Several long moments passed. They didn’t talk,
but they caressed each other, and Marty pressed soft kisses on Jacob’s chest
enjoying the taste of sweat and come and Jacob.

When he thought
his legs would hold him, Marty peeled off his friend and stood. The building
was rarely used, but he couldn’t guarantee their privacy forever. They needed
to get dressed and get back to the barracks. A reprimand on his record would
make his discharge process even harder.

Jacob sat up.
Marty pulled on his pants and held Jacob’s pants out to him. Instead of taking
them, Jacob pulled Marty between his legs and cupped his friend’s face in his
large hands. “You were right. We’re not ever going another day without making
love to each other.”

Marty’s chest
tightened and tears burned behind his eyes. He’d not let himself dare to hope
he’d find this kind of acceptance from Jacob. “No, we’re not.”

Jacob frowned.
“I want to be a soldier. I’m proud of what I’ve done since we signed up, but I
can’t deny what I feel for you anymore.”

Marty took a
long, slow breath. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

“But we’re
going to have each other.”

Marty nodded.
“I love you, Jacob.”

Jacob gave him
a gentle kiss. “I love you, too. And right now, that’s all that matters.” Marty
wanted to reply, but he couldn’t find the words to express what he was feeling.
He kissed Jacob instead, letting his body say what words couldn’t.

THE END

Author
bio: Silvia Violet writes erotic romance and erotica in a variety of genres
including sci fi, paranormal and historical. She can be found haunting coffee
shops looking for the darkest, strongest cup of coffee she can find. Once
equipped with the needed fuel, she can happily sit for hours pounding away at
her laptop.

Silvia
typically leaves home disguised as a suburban stay-at-home-mom, and other
coffee shop patrons tend to ask her hilarious questions like "Do you write
children's books?" She loves watching the looks on their faces when they
learn what she's actually up to. When not writing, Silvia enjoys baking sinful
chocolate treats, exploring new styles of cooking, and reading children's books
to her wickedly smart offspring.

Get
to know Silvia better by visiting her website,
http://silviaviolet.com

Finding
her on Facebook
http://facebook.com/silvia.violet

Emailing
her at [email protected].

Selected by Deanna
Wadsworth

Dear Author,

Sometimes the boss is in
charge and sometimes he's not ... and sometimes he just can't hold himself back
any longer. There's nothing
like a man who can
both
give and take orders.

[PHOTO: A dark-haired middle-aged man in a
blue business shirt, tie, and suspenders kneels in front of the rampant
erection of his younger lover, mouth open to receive him. The standing man is
muscular, tattooed, dressed in a grey tank and khaki work
pants,
open to reveal striped boxers. One hand cups the dark head in front of him.]

.... and all the rest is
up to you.

Thanks,

Geoffrey

Genre:
contemporary

Tags:
dirty talk, spanking, office sex,
men in suits, construction worker

Words:
6,642

UNSCHEDULED
MAINTENANCE

by Deanna
Wadsworth

Geoffrey
grunted, wincing as he strained to get what he so desperately wanted. A lone
bead of sweat ran a track down his forehead and lingered on his brow, moments
away from stinging his eyes. He stretched toward his prize. Lower lip pinned
between his teeth, he focused harder. “Just… a… little… bit…
Ouch
!”

Yanking his
burnt hand back, he sucked on the wounded digit. “Damn light-bulb.”

He cautiously
climbed down from his desk, regretting the decision to remove his shoes because
his socks were slippery. But he didn’t want to scratch the mahogany, so he’d
just have to be careful not to fall and break his neck. That would really ruin
his plans. Retrieving a hand towel from his private bathroom, he returned to
his sabotage project.

Having assumed
the light-bulb would be fluorescent, the burn had shocked him. The bulb
should’ve been the energy efficient kind, not the cheap household variety.

Add that to the
list of things he planned to have a word with Cole McCarthy about.

Geoffrey’s law
practice encompassed half of the top floor of the Dennison Tower. Cole McCarthy
supervised the six man property management crew which serviced the thirty-story
building. He and his partners paid exorbitant rent to be in the exclusive part
of Seattle their clients preferred, and from the skyline view to the toilet
paper or light-bulbs, they expected the best. And Cole was supposed to make
sure it happened.

Cheap
light-bulbs, indeed. Wait till he got his hands on that man.

His blood raced
at the prospect, heating his skin and sending a tickle behind his belly button
and just below. He tamped it down and climbed carefully back onto the desk.
This time, armed with a towel, he removed the bulb without injury to his
person. He shook it until the filaments rattled.

When he screwed
it back in, he let out a triumphant, “Ha, ha!”

No light.

Dismounting, he
replaced the towel and his shoes. After putting his desktop in order, he took a
cleansing breath and hit the intercom. “Tiffany?”

“Yes, Mr.
Winters?”

“I need to
speak with McCarthy from maintenance. There’s a light out in my ceiling.”

“I can take
care of that for you,” she offered.

“No thanks,
Tiffany. I’m tired of the shoddy job his staff is doing. I want to speak to him
personally.”

“Of course, Mr.
Winters. One moment, please.”

While Tiffany
got Cole on the line, he used the opportunity to collect himself. His black
hair, which he kept trimmed high and tight, hadn’t been mussed from his
endeavors, thankfully. After centering the Windsor knot of his tie, he snapped
his suspenders into a more comfortable position. He thought about putting his
suit coat on but the royal blue cotton of his fitted dress shirt accented the
broad shoulders and flat abs he’d been working so diligently for at the gym.
And he wanted Cole to notice.

He knew this
was crazy. ‘Desperate’ might even be a better word. But he couldn’t help
himself. From the first moment he’d met Cole a year ago he’d been wildly
attracted to him. Always inventing new ‘problems’ in the office which required
his personal attention. Parking his Jag in the south parking lot near the property
management office. Anything he could think of to sneak a peek at Cole McCarthy.

Though he
suspected the ruse didn’t hold up anymore.

God love
Tiffany, the girl was anything but inefficient. The intercom crackled as she
came over the line a few minutes later. “Mr. Winters, I have property
management on line one for you.”

“Thank you,
Tiffany.” He picked up the receiver, not surprised his hand trembled.
“McCarthy?” he clarified, pleased his voice was steady.

“Yes, Mr.
Winters?” Cole’s sultry voice never ceased to hit him where it counted. Right
in the groin. The deep baritone of it was almost gravely, with just a hint of
sarcasm.

“I have a
problem.”

“And no one can
fix it but
me
?” the sexy voice on the other line surmised.

Damn, it was
that sarcasm again. What he wouldn’t give to fuck it right out of him.
Unfortunately, that wouldn’t happen today. Well, at least he didn’t think it
would. His cock swelled and he shifted in his chair. This game they’d been
playing since the first day Cole came into his office to repair the bathroom
sink—a game full of subtlety hidden innuendo—made him so hot he could hardly
concentrate sometimes.

“Yes, that
is
what you’re paid for, isn’t it?” Geoffrey piled on a heaping layer of his own
attitude.

He could
visualize the man arching his left eyebrow in annoyance. Cole didn’t
technically answer to him, but part of his job included keeping the tenants
happy. And bossing the other man around definitely made Geoffrey happy.

After a long
pause, Cole finally asked, “What do you need, Mr. Winters?”

“The light-bulb
directly above my desk is burnt out. No doubt because you’re cutting costs
using the cheap kind. I want it fixed immediately. I have an important
conference call at four o’clock which I need to prepare for. While you and your
men wander around the building pretending to look busy, the rest of us are
working our asses off, you know. I don’t have time for this kind of
incompetence.”

Another long
silence followed. Geoffrey thought maybe he’d laid it on a bit thick. However,
he couldn’t take it back now. A show of submissiveness would only ruin his
plans.

“I’ll be right
up, Mr. Winters.”

****

Geoffrey’s breath
caught in his chest when Tiffany gestured Cole, tool-belt tossed casually over
his shoulder, into the office. Effortlessly carrying an eight-foot orange
ladder, Cole thanked her for holding the door. A navy blue knit cap covered
shaggy blond hair, making him look younger than the thirty years Geoffrey knew
him to be. He’d only buttoned the short-sleeved white shirt with his name
stitched above the pocket half way, like he’d thrown it over the grey tank-top
as an afterthought.

Brown eyes
which always seemed to sparkle with amusement— as if Cole alone were a part of
some secret joke —drifted to the burnt out light-bulb above the desk. Then they
took in the bright sunlight pouring through the floor to ceiling windows. The
sunniness, unusual for Seattle even in July, rendered the russet faux-finish on
the walls a pale gold. “I guess we do have a problem.”

Geoffrey pursed
his lips. There was that sarcasm again. “Yes, and you’ve kept me waiting.”

Cole quirked
one dark brow.

God,
he loved that!

He also loved
the full sleeve of colorful tattoos the maintenance man had on his right arm.
Tattoos he reminded himself not to ogle while at work. Still, the peek-a-boo of
a tribal tat on his left arm made Geoffrey long to slide his fingers up the
sleeve and explore the rest of it, committing every intricate detail to memory
as he learned the significance each image held for Cole.

“Do you need
anything else, Mr. Winters?” Tiffany stood patiently in the doorway.

“No thank-you,
Tiffany. Please, close the door behind you.”

Cole arched his
sweeping dark brow in surprise, but Tiffany didn’t question the instructions as
she turned and left.

When the door
‘clicked’ shut and they were finally alone, Cole skipped the pleasantries. “I’m
going to need you to move so I can set up my ladder.”

Geoffrey jumped
from his chair quickly, getting a little hot under the collar at his ready
obedience. He paused in the middle of reaching for the chair, however, when he
saw the smile dancing on Cole’s full, kissable lips. Regaining some semblance
of dignity, he left the chair where it sat. He couldn’t let him take the lead
without at least a little resistance.

Cole cocked his
head to the side curiously when he didn’t move the chair.

“I don’t move
furniture.”

The derisive
tone caught Cole off guard and his left brow quirked. He hadn’t expected that,
Geoffrey could tell. Swallowing hard, his dick snaked down his pant leg ever so
slightly. Damn, he loved the subtle sexual back and forth of their encounters.