Ice Man (11 page)

Brett angled his head and Rowan opened his mouth over his flesh. Hot breath caressed his skin, followed by gentle bites and flicks of his tongue. “If you’re right then what do you want from me?” Brett asked.

“I think that would be obvious.” He pulled back and their eyes locked. “I want to take you to bed.”

Chapter Seven

Brett squinted against the midmorning sun streaming through the window and slashing across the bed. Rowan groaned beside him. There was nothing more erotic than waking next to his lover, leg brushing against leg. In three weeks, he’d only become more accustomed to having Rowan in his home.

Their schedules complemented each other. Brett worked late and often was still at the computer when Rowan came over after his shift at the club. They’d sleep half the day away then fuck. No, they did more than screw. Rowan was quickly becoming a part of the life he thought he’d never find. A partner. They matched each other’s needs in and out of bed.

He leaned over and kissed Rowan’s shoulder. Sleepy warmth surrounded him. The scent of Rowan and sex clung to the linen. Brett ran his hands over Rowan’s form from his shoulder, along each rib, over his waist, pausing on his ass. Firm, perfect,
mine
.

Rowan groaned in his sleep. He turned onto his back, kept his eyes closed and tried to pull Brett down beside him. “Sleep,” he grumbled.

Brett chuckled and slid from his arms. “Can’t. You sleep.” Brett needed a hot shower and a cup of coffee. He ran his hands though his hair and crossed to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, he’d showered and pulled on jeans. He had his glasses on, cup of coffee to his left and his computer mouse to his right. The house was quiet. Stocks were up. Life was good. Life was damn good.

An hour passed and Brett unfurled from the chair. His stomach rumbled. He set his glasses on the desk, rubbed his eyes and headed upstairs to the bedroom. He paused in the doorway. The sheet had slid from the bed. Rowan slept on his stomach, arms pillowed beneath his head. Pressure clamped on Brett’s chest. He swallowed the lump in his throat, wondering how he’d fallen in love in less than a month.

He stripped out of his jeans. His cock bobbed against his stomach, thick and solid. Slowing his breaths, he quietly stalked across the room. He didn’t want Rowan waking yet. His knee dipped the bed. Rowan shifted and rolled over. Brett froze. This was even better. He finished crawling onto the mattress.

Rowan’s cock lay limp against his pelvis. Brett carefully positioned next to him. Without touching, he leaned over, curled his tongue around the soft flesh and took him into his mouth, cocooning him in wet heat. Opening wider, he took all of him until his nose pressed against Rowan’s flesh, drinking in the arousing musky male scent of his crotch. Instantly the flesh within his mouth became firmer. He held him against his tongue until the stiffness forced him to part his lips. He slowly pulled back then took his erection deep, to the throat and just a fraction farther.

Rowan groaned, his toes curled and his hand cupped the back of Brett’s head. Brett lifted his gaze. A contented smile curved Rowan’s mouth and his half-lidded eyes fixed on Brett.

“Good morning.” Rowan bent his knees and widened his legs with his feet flat on the mattress.

Brett hummed and continued to suck the length then lower to twirl his tongue over his smooth balls. He lifted his head and kissed the tender skin of his pelvis, higher to trace a circle with his tongue around his navel.

“I should have let you sleep,” he slid between Rowan’s thighs, “but you looked so damn good on my bed.”

“And you can’t control yourself. You have to fuck me.”

Brett moaned his agreement as he rasped his tongue over Rowan’s flat brown nipple. “Tell me you want my cock.”

Rowan arched on the bed. With arms outstretched, Brett braced above him. They aligned cock to cock, chest to chest, face-to-face.

There were condoms and a bottle of lube on the bedside table. Rowan grabbed the condoms, tore one from the strip then ripped it open. He reached between their bodies, grasped Brett’s rod at the base and with touch alone, sheathed him in latex. Then he squirted lube into his palm. Brett clenched his teeth, enduring the sweet torture of having Rowan’s fingers caressing his cock, slicking him with cream.

Rowan shifted his own balls and inched lower. His eyes closed and he rolled his hips. He creamed his own hole, circling the rosette then sliding his finger into his own rectum. He groaned, widened his thighs and plunged deeper.

“God, do you know how fucking hot that is?” Brett placed his hand over Rowan’s, pressing both their fingers into his hole, sliding in and out. Rowan moaned, his rim tightening, clamping against their joined fingers.

“I want your cock. Please fuck me.”

“If you want me, take me.”

With gentle pressure, Rowan wrapped his fingers around Brett’s cock and, arching his pelvis, fit the head to his hole. Brett held his breath. His abdominals tightened and he penetrated an inch, pushing past the resistance of his rim.

“Oh God, more.” Rowan tried to impale himself, undulating his hips.

Brett lifted Rowan’s right leg to his shoulder, clamping a hand over his shin to hold him. “You want fucked?”

“Yes,” he hissed.

“Hard?”

“Yes.” Desperation laced his plea.

Brett lifted the other leg to the same position then leveraged higher, his cock slowly sank into Rowan. One long delicious slide into heaven. Once seated to the root, he eased back and reveled in the fiery licks of pleasure caressing his shaft and he stretched Rowan, filling him full of cock.

Rowan’s head thrashed on the pillow.

“Feel good?”

“Fuck you. Fuck me!”

Brett tightened his hold on Rowan’s legs and slightly lifted as he thrust his hips. Exquisite pressure skated along his length. As much as Rowan wanted him to pound his ass, cram his cock in fierce thrusts, he took it slow, savoring the connection.

Brett wanted control, demanded it. Being inside Rowan, having him under him or over him was the most powerful aphrodisiac he’d ever known—knowing he gave as much pleasure as he took.

He increased his speed and depth. Pounding strokes sent shivers over him. Rowan’s ass was ecstasy. His mewling whimpers spurred Brett on. Rowan’s legs dropped to the crook of Brett’s elbows, spreading his thighs wider. Brett leaned back and watched his cock slip in and out of Rowan’s ass. Wet and hot. Internal tissues milked his shaft. Tingles chased over his flesh. His orgasm built in the base of his spine, molten heat pooling in his balls. Muscles tensed with the impending storm of sensations. He slammed hard.

“Come, damn it.”

Rowan reached for his cock.

“No, don’t touch. I’ll make you come.” From fucking alone he wanted Rowan’s cream spurting onto his stomach, eyes locked on his as he spiraled into euphoria.

Brett shifted the angle, rubbing his cock head against the smooth inner tissues. Rowan bucked, gripped fistfuls of sheet and came.

Hot ribbons of cum jetted from his cock. The powerful orgasm convulsed his body, shooting semen onto his abdomen, chest and onto the sheets. The spasms locked his rim to Brett’s shaft. The pressure drove Brett over the edge into oblivion. His mind numbed and heat flooded his system. Every nerve sizzled and snapped. He thrust fully into Rowan and stilled, relishing the pleasure centered in his dick and radiating out. Waves of release washed over him, milking him dry as he emptied into Rowan. Holding on to the condom, he slipped free and collapsed onto the bed.

Rowan used a corner of the sheet to wipe the cum from his stomach.

Brett laughed. “My cleaning lady has to know my sex life has improved.”

“I love that there’s cum all over your bed. Shows how much sex we have.”

And they did. Neither one of them seemed to be able to get enough touching, kissing and loving. “Let’s go out tonight.”

Rowan turned to his side and braced on his elbow. “After work.”

Brett sat, shifted to the edge of the bed then went toward the bathroom to dispose of the condom. “I thought perhaps you could take the night off. We could go to dinner, maybe see a movie.”

Rowan stretched out on the bed with his hands laced behind his head. “It sounds perfect but I have to work.”

“Call Tac. Tell him you need a night off.”

He stretched and sat up. “Can’t.”

“Why not? You work seven days a week. You’re entitled to some down time.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you. Tac needs me at the club.”

“I need you with me.”

Rowan faced him. “I know. I feel the same way. Try to understand.”

But he didn’t understand. Didn’t understand why Rowan went to work hours before the club opened, didn’t understand how Rowan could feel loyalty or obligation to his ex-lover.

“Fine, I won’t bitch about the amount of time you work.” After all, he worked seven days a week, all hours of the day and night. He lived and breathed his business. Rowan lived and breathed The Catacombs. He wasn’t jealous of the club or concerned Rowan would meet a man and betray their burgeoning relationship. His insecurities revolved exclusively around Tac. “We can go to dinner before the club opens.”

Rowan took his leather pants—bondage pants he’d worn to work last night—and stepped into them. “How about lunch?” He grinned. “I need to be at the club early.”

“You always have to go early.”

“And I always will. I don’t have a choice.”

“You’re the one who says you always have a choice.”

Rowan jerked his T-shirt over his head. “Yeah, we all have to do shit we don’t want to do.” He stomped from the room and down the stairs.

“Like what?” Brett followed. “What the hell are you doing for all those hours before the club opens?” God, he hated this part. He didn’t want to argue.

“Stocking booze and practicing my performance.”

“Fine, I’ll come with you.” He sounded desperate to his own ears.

“No, I don’t want you at the club.”

“What?” Where the fuck had that come from? “Why?”

Rowan sifted through the couch cushions. “Have you seen my keys?”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

He raked his hands through his hair. “Fine. Go.” Nausea roiled in his gut. What the fuck had triggered this argument? He wanted dinner, an evening together, a special memory on the night he told Rowan he loved him. Hell, he contemplated asking him to move in. No, the contemplating was over. He wanted to live with Rowan, to wake every morning with his warm, naked body pressed to his.

“Ah fuck.” Rowan spun away from Brett. “I can’t do this, can’t fight with you. Can’t you let it go?”

Brett leaned against the wall. “Sure, I can let you go.” Maybe Rowan had been searching for a way out while Brett had been holding on, believing they would have something more. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t want me in the club, fuck you. I have a membership and as you say, we all have to make choices.”

“Oh God, that’s not what I mean, not what I want.” He slumped into the couch. “Do you want to come to the club? It’s not a big deal.”

Now he knew he’d overreacted. He crossed the room and sat next to Rowan.

“When we met, privacy was paramount.”

He remembered, but he wasn’t feeling cloistered now. “Yes, and you spend all your time in a club that used to not hold appeal. I don’t get why you rush out of here, yet after work, I know this is your first stop. That’s less of a relationship and more of a booty call.” He thumbed his chest. “I want more.”

“Brett, you have all of me. Tie me to the bed, baby. Tell me to get on my knees and suck your dick. But I don’t want to fuck in the club. I don’t want to be Ice Man with you. I’m not into group, stranger encounters or pain. Always, it’s just you and me in a room by ourselves. I only want your cock in my mouth.” He leaned in and kissed his lips. “And when you need to fuck, it better be my ass you’re sliding into.”

Hunger flared in Brett. He latched onto Rowan, covered his mouth and speared his tongue into the emotionally dangerous depths. Searing heat blazed into his groin. He’d just spent the morning fucking, yet he was on fire for him again. He ripped the snap open and plunged his hand into Rowan’s pants. Wrapping his fingers around his shaft, he stroked him, feeling him swell and harden against his palm.

“Come to the club tonight,” Rowan gasped between kisses. “Don’t ever wonder where I want to be.” He cupped Brett’s cock. “You, this,” he squeezed his erection, “are all I need.” He eased back. “But I’m not you. I don’t make million-dollar deals. I bartend and I’m good at it. I enjoy my work. So don’t ask me to give it up.” Their eyes locked. “But I would.”

Brett sighed and pulled his hand from Rowan’s pants. Lust ruled him. He wanted sex all the time, had to have his hands on Rowan and hated the thought of anyone else being close to him—like Tac. “I’m not myself with you, or maybe I’ve never been myself until you. All I know is that I hate knowing you’re in the club.”
With Tac.
Insecurity had never been an issue. He was at the top of his game in his field and when he was married he hadn’t really cared what Karen had done with her time as long as she hadn’t wanted much of his. Who did he have to be jealous of then? That wasn’t how he felt now. He was jealous—of Tac.