L. A. Witt - Rules 1 - Rules of Engagement (32 page)

Clearing my throat, I shifted slightly on my barstool, trying to hide my sudden reaction to him. “I, um, yeah. Long week.” I sipped my beer.

He laughed. “Some things definitely shouldn’t be so long.” I coughed, having just barely managed to swallow my beer before he said it.

“Just kidding around with ya, man.” He clapped my shoulder, and I thought his hand lingered just a split second longer than social protocols dictated between heterosexual men. I wondered if he was heterosexual. The longer I looked at him, the more certain I was that I was definitely
not
.

“Sean Callahan.” He extended his hand.

“Dustin Walker.” I shook his hand and immediately knew the answer. His fingertips just barely grazed the inside of my wrist, and when I tensed in response, the corner of his mouth lifted with a satisfied, almost smug grin.

He took his hand away and picked up his beer. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “You play pool?”
“Sometimes.”

“Care for a game?”

I looked at the pool tables, and that sinking feeling tugged at my gut. I’d managed to get through the game with Renee, but everything about pool reminded me of Brandon. “No thanks,” I said finally.

“No problem. I’m not much of a pool player anyway.” “Then why did you—”
Déjà vu
. Hadn’t I had this same conversation with Renee?

He turned his barstool and let his knee brush mine, immediately drawing the breath out of my lungs and pulling my gaze down to our knees. Up his leg. To the obvious rise beneath his jeans.

When I looked at him again, my mouth went dry. Before I realized what I was doing, I ran the tip of my tongue across my upper lip. His lips parted.

I followed the ripple down the front of his throat as he swallowed, and when I met his eyes again, he leaned towards me.

 

His gaze shifted towards the pool tables, then back to me. “Why don’t we just cut to the chase?”

 

My mouth was dry. “Okay….”

 

“I get the impression,” he said, letting his knee brush mine again, “that you aren’t here for the ladies.”

 

I swallowed. “What gave you that idea?”

 

With a casual shrug, he said, “I haven’t seen you look at a woman all night.”

 

“So you’ve been watching me.”

“I have.” He didn’t seem in the least bit embarrassed or apologetic about it. In fact, with the way his eyes twinkled and his lip tightened into a smirk, I think he was pretty damned proud of himself.

“So,” I said. “If you’ve been watching me all this time, it’s probably a safe bet that you’re not here for the ladies either?” “No. I’m not. And quite frankly, I’d rather not be
here
at all.”

My first instinct was to take offense, as if he didn’t want to be here talking to me. Then I made the connection. Somehow willing my mouth to work, I said, “Where would you rather be?”

“Somewhere a little more—” He put his hand on his own knee and turned back towards the bar, letting a single finger extend just enough to graze my thigh as they passed. “Intimate.”

I gulped. I’d expected him to say “someplace more private.” Comfortable, maybe. But no.
Intimate
.

 

“That is, if you’re interested.” His eyebrows arched again as he sipped his beer.

Now or never. Gay or straight, Sean is going to show you once and for all. Hell, just do it.
I took a long swallow of beer, then set the empty bottle on the bar. “Let’s go.”

The parking lot was eerily quiet as we walked out together. Though it was a relief to be away from the prying eyes of society, I felt strangely vulnerable without the comfort of their scrutiny.

Stopping by his car, he was unnervingly close to me. Close enough to touch. We avoided each other’s eyes for a moment. Then he put his hand on my hip, gently drawing me to him.

His shoulders were somewhat broader than mine, and he was a few inches taller than me. His stature magnified the powerful intensity in his eyes. He didn’t intimidate me or make me feel threatened, but I got the distinct feeling that this was a man who knew what he wanted and was going to get it.

A shiver ran up my spine, and with as close as we stood, I know he felt how hard I was. An almost imperceptible motion of his hips against mine—moving to one side, then the other—told me all I needed to know about his own state of arousal.

Our eyes met, and I thought he was going to speak, but instead, he kissed me. The gentleness of his kiss surprised me. I’d expected him to be more aggressive, more demanding, but he kissed me like he wanted to taste my mouth, not devour it. The tip of his tongue slid under mine and drew it between his lips.

I caught myself wondering why Stephanie always made me shave my goatee and
no wonder Brandon wanted me to—stop, it Dustin.

There was something exquisitely sensual about the soft brush of Sean’s goatee against my jaw. Then again, there was something exquisitely sensual about everything Sean’s body did to mine.

His movements—parting my lips with his tongue, exploring my mouth, wrapping his arms around me—were slow, almost cautious, but the unsteady way he breathed belied the gentleness of his approach. He was holding back; I could feel it. In spite of the calm sensuality of his kiss, there was something primal just beneath the surface. I wanted to get him behind closed doors and find out what he was really like when there were no prying, disapproving eyes around.

I needed to know what Sean was hiding beneath this gentlemanly exterior.

“You want to get out of here?” he whispered.
“Absolutely.”
“My place is on the other side of town.”
“Mine’s closer.”
“Let’s go.”

S
EAN
followed me back to my apartment. On the way in from the parking lot, we didn’t touch. We didn’t talk. We didn’t even look at each other. I keyed us into my apartment, pausing to lock the door after we were safely inside. The click of the deadbolt echoed in the silence, an oddly unsettling sound, as if I’d just locked myself inside a lion’s cage instead of the safety of my own home. Sean didn’t intimidate me or make me feel threatened, but I had a feeling that I was about to unleash an insatiable sexual beast. It was more like the feeling of standing on a bridge getting ready to bungee jump: I wanted it, but to say I was nervous was an understatement.

When I turned to face him, we were an arm’s length apart, looking at each other. Waiting. My eyes followed the ripple down the front of his throat, and I tried to decide if he was nervous or impatient.

He moved towards me, reaching for my hip, his eyes never leaving mine. I licked my lips slowly, my body tensing as if I were bracing myself for the impending contact of his hand. When his hand found my hip, I took in a long breath through my nose.

Something changed in his eyes, in his expression, even as I watched. He tilted his head and moved in to kiss me, moving as slowly as humanly possible, as if he wanted me to feel every inch of ground he gained. I tried to lean towards him, but the hand on my hip stopped me with just enough pressure to let me know to stay put. I could retreat if I wanted to—he wasn’t doing this against my will—but
he
was the one making the advance. He was in control.

As his lips met mine and he wrapped his arms around me, he took the lead, asserting his dominance with every motion of his tongue or jaw. At first it was gentle, no tongue, then passionate and deep, then the feather light touch of his lips against mine, all at his whim.

He dipped his head and kissed my neck, pausing at the base of my throat, just above my collarbone, his tongue making a few warm, moist circles that raised goose bumps under my clothes.

“Like that?” he murmured.

“God, yes.” I ran my fingers through his thick hair, closing my eyes and letting myself get lost in the gentle touch of his lips against my skin.

His hands went up my chest and shoved my jacket off of my shoulders, the sudden movement knocking me off balance. Taking advantage of my stumble, he used his body to push me up against the wall, panting as he kissed my neck and jaw. He shrugged his own jacket off, then slid his hands under my shirt and lifted it off. Still pinning me against the wall, he went for my belt.

He wasn’t forceful or unkind; he obviously liked to be in control, and he knew what he wanted, but he was in this for my pleasure too. With a shiver of anticipation, I knew who would be giving and who would be receiving.

Before I knew it, his hand was around my cock, and I was suddenly thankful he had me against the wall. The wall and his body were the only things that kept me standing as he kissed my neck and stroked me slowly, the unsteadiness in his hand and his breathing making every sensation more intense. His hand trembled too much to settle on any consistent rhythm, so every time I started to get accustomed to it, it would change, and every fucking time, it took my breath away as if he’d just touched me for the first time.

He nipped my earlobe, and my knees almost went out from under me. “You like that, don’t you?” he growled, stroking faster, then slower, then faster again.

“Keep doing it and I’m gonna come.” I chewed my lip, trying to hold back as he circled his tongue just below my ear. When he released a ragged breath against my neck, my knees buckled, but still his body kept me against the wall.

“Maybe,” he whispered, “we should find a place that’s a bit more suitable for this.”

I didn’t bother trying to speak, just nodded. He eased off of me, making sure I could stand before he released me completely. Just as we had on the way into the apartment, neither of us spoke or touched on the way down the hall.

In the bedroom, though, it was a different story. Kissing passionately, we clawed at clothes and each other, desperate to get as little between us as possible. We managed to get his shirt off before we landed on the bed, his body over mine.

I tried to get him on his back, but he pinned me first, holding my wrists beside my head as he pressed his hips against mine and kissed me. Trying to gain control, I struggled, but he kept me there. I had had playful power struggles with women in the past, but never with someone this close to my own strength, and it was
hot
.

“You’re not going to get the best of me, Dustin.” He laughed as he kissed my jaw.

“And if I stopped fighting, you wouldn’t enjoy it as much, would you?”
He growled against my neck. “Damn right.”

I continued putting up just enough of a struggle to make him think I was actually trying to get my hands free. He bought my bluff: Almost imperceptibly, his hands loosened around my wrists.

I wrenched my hands free and, before he could react, had him on his back, pinned just as I had been a second before. “Then I wouldn’t want to disappoint, would I?”

For a moment, he simply stared at me, jaw slack and eyes wide in a look of utter shock. Then he licked his lips and grinned. “I may have to fuck you for that.”

I laughed, leaning down to kiss him but keeping my mouth just out of his reach. “You must be forgetting who’s on top, then.” “Not at all,” he said, craning his neck so that his lips brushed mine. “I haven’t forgotten who’s on top.”

 

“Good,” I said, kissing him quickly but pulling back before he was ready to let me go.

 

His lips tightened in a frustrated grimace. “Get down here.”

“Why?” I asked, flicking my tongue across his lower lip and laughing at the growl that emerged from his throat. His arms struggled in my grasp. I looked at my own hand gripping his wrist and was just about to make a smartass comment when his leg hooked around mine, and in the next instant, I was on my back, staring up at him in disbelief.

“I told you I hadn’t forgotten who was on top.” He grinned at me and lowered his head to kiss me.

As the kiss deepened, he relaxed his grip on my wrists. I pulled one free, but instead of trying to reverse roles again, I put my arm around his neck. Then the other. Our rough game of playful dominance forgotten, we worked our way out of our remaining clothes.

“There is so much I want to do to you,” he said, pressing his hardon against mine. “But I have
got
to fuck you.
Now
.”

 

“Nightstand,” I said, panting in between long, desperate kisses.

“Sweet.” He sat up to get them, not bothering to ask who was giving and who was receiving. I think he knew as well as I did who was fucking who, and we’d both known it since he kissed me in the parking lot. Rolling the condom onto his own cock instead of mine simply confirmed the obvious.

I got on my hands and knees, and he put his hands on my hips. Momentary panic swept through me. I’d only done this with Brandon, and he was much gentler than Sean. It had never hurt with him, but I couldn’t be so sure that it would be that way with Sean.

The cold lube against my skin made me suck in a startled breath. Willing myself to relax, I closed my eyes, trying to breathe slowly, evenly, expecting the worst.

“Hey.” His hand ran up my side. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m,” I exhaled. “Just, go slow.”

“Absolutely.” His voice was surprisingly gentle. “I’m not in this to hurt you.” That reassurance was enough to calm my nerves, and I relaxed. He pushed in slowly, just a little at a time, easing in before pulling back, then easing in a bit more.

“Fuck,” I whispered, closing my eyes and letting my head fall forward as my arms trembled beneath me.

He stopped. “Am I hurting you?”
I shook my head. “No, not at all.”

“Good.” His hands ran up my back, palms digging deliciously into the muscles that tensed and trembled as he slowly fucked me. He had been so rough and dominating, but his touch was tender now. Gentle. Patient. I could tell by the sharp catches of his breath and the occasional muffled groan that he was holding back, just as he had in the parking lot. At the club, he’d reined it back because of prying eyes and social protocols. Now he was giving my body a chance to get used to him before he gave me everything he had.

He paused to put some more lube on, and I couldn’t help but moan as he pushed in again. Now that I knew I could handle him, that he wasn’t going to hurt me, I wanted more.

I couldn’t quite convince my mouth to ask him to fuck me faster, so I dug my hands into the mattress and pushed back against him, gasping as I suddenly took all of his cock in one quick stroke.