Lucky’s heart battered his ribs. Until seeing the proof with his own eyes, he’d held out hope for a mistake or someone else from his past finally catching up. No one deserved this shit. Though the figure’s face stayed hidden in shadows, the camera captured enough detail to make out the identity of the man who’d paid Lucky a visit.
Daytona staggered to his feet. Bo caught him and eased him down on a chair.
A bit of wriggling pulled Lucky’s chair closer. He joined Bo in putting an arm around Day. Poor guy had to be wrung out by now.
“Why…? Why would Bristol do something like that? Why isn’t he glad you’re still alive?”
How in the world had Daytona endured so much crap in his life and remained naïve? Now wasn’t the time to share hard facts about another Lucklighter. The kid had been through enough for one day. Lucky addressed the detectives. “The guy you’re looking for is Bristol Lucklighter, like we suspected.” To Daytona he said, “How is it you got ahold of Bristol’s car?” It wasn’t like the asshole to share his toys.
“He… he gave me the keys and asked me to pull it around to the hospital entrance.”
“Had he ever let you drive his car before?” Not likely.
“Well… No.” The Lucklighter crease appeared between Daytona’s brows. “Used to say he’d kill me if I so much as looked at it, when he talked to me at all.”
“And you weren’t suspicious when he gave you the keys?”
“I assumed maybe he was being nice, Daddy being sick and all, and me finding out about you.”
No one ever accused the Lucklighter boys of being too smart. “He set you up. Even pointed you in the right direction, didn’t he?”
Daytona’s silence spoke for him.
One of the detectives took charge. “I’m going to need a statement from you both.”
Lucky clasped his brother’s shoulder. “Sure.”
***
The best view in the world might be the Greensboro Police Department’s parking lot, which meant freedom. Stars overhead in a clear sky. Damn. Staying up late again. Exhaustion pressed down on him, leaving Lucky disoriented, or maybe it was a combination of exhaustion and painkillers.
Jimmy’s Ford Escape easily blended with a dozen other cars, but his bright-as-morning-sun hair positively glowed from a street light’s glare.
Bo kept pace two feet behind Lucky, offering quiet comfort.
“What happens now?” Daytona rammed his hands into his pockets, looking small and lost next to Jimmy.
“He takes you home.” Lucky nodded toward the man he still wanted to call Nurse Andy. “But you can’t say a word about any of this. Understand?”
Daytona sniffled and nodded.
One more hug, and Lucky sent his brother on his way. “We’ll catch up later, I promise.”
Daytona clung for a moment and shuffled off.
“I’ll take good care of him.” Jimmy patted Lucky’s shoulder and gave him a half smile. “Give my regards to your sister.” He slid beneath the steering wheel and slammed the door.
As if.
Daytona climbed in the other side of the SUV and waved when Jimmy drove them out of the parking lot.
Johnson leaned against her Jeep. “You ready to go? You know I hate not being home to tuck my kid in, but not being there to send him off to school sucks canal water.” She might be there in time to make him an after-school snack.
“What about you?” Lucky stepped close enough to feel Bo’s body heat.
“I gotta get back,” Bo said. “You go on home with Loretta. I’m still working a case.”
Oh. “So much for going home and showing you my scar. Tell me a die-hard biker like you finds scars sexy.”
Bo nuzzled Lucky’s nose. “I find your scars sexy. In fact, I find every single inch of you sexy.” The quick brush of lips didn’t come close to the kiss Lucky wanted, but…
“Hey, guys. I’m standing right here.” Johnson tapped the toe of her shoe.
“And?” Lucky growled.
“And you don’t want me telling you how cute you are, do you?”
Lucky didn’t give a rat’s ass who saw, or even if Johnson said the “c” word. He kissed his man. Might be the last time for a while.
“If I can’t keep an eye on you…” Bo dug in his pocket and pulled out the dragon key ring.
Lucky clung to his talisman all the way home.
***
“We’re here.” Johnson pulled up outside the gate to Lucky’s neighborhood, rolled down the window, and punched on the keys. The gate slid open.
“How the hell’d you get the code?”
Johnson managed a weary grin over her shoulder. “I learned from a hard-assed motherfucker who never let gates stand in his way.”
Yes, she had. Damn.
She helped Lucky into the house and settled him on his bed. He’d never been this tired in his life. “Want me to strip you, or can you do it?”
The loose T-shirt and sweat pants ought to slide off easily enough, if Lucky didn’t mind Johnson glimpsing his junk.
“You ain’t got nothing I ain’t seen before,” she said, hands on hips.
“How do you know? Maybe I got a third nut or something.”
“Oh! Call Guinness! Three balls, world’s shortest dick.” Johnson rolled her eyes toward the heavens and started whistling.
Okay, maybe he wouldn’t be showing her anything new. But still… She’d never seen his junk before and wasn’t going to. “I’m all right.” And world’s smallest dick, hell!
“Good.” She trotted out of the room and returned a few minutes later with a glass of water and a bottle of pills. “Take one and get some rest. I’ll be out in the living room if you need me.”
Like he’d need her. He tried to take off his shirt. Ow! Okay, take the pill first, then tackle his clothes. On second thought, they weren’t bothering him too much. A blanket would be nice. But impossible without help.
Ah, home in his own bed. Alone. With too much time to blame himself.
He took the pill. He’d hunker down in guilt later.
No matter how he tried, he couldn’t get comfortable.
Johnson wanted to be friends? What use were friends if he didn’t intend to use them? “Hey, Jo… Rett! I could use some help here!”
The woman who’d waltzed into his life, too stubborn to leave, came charging in. “What you need?”
“Help getting undressed, just don’t stare at my junk, okay?”
Her lips twitched. “I’ll do my best to restrain myself.”
True to her word, she didn’t linger and worked with efficient motions. She didn’t even gasp at the Steri-Strip covered incision—much. “When do those come off?”
“When they fall off.” Like hell would Lucky try to peel the damned things off again. Holy crap! Felt like being ripped back open.
“What did the doctor say?” Trust Johnson to go all Mom on him.
“The internal sutures dissolve on their own. Leave the Steri-Strip at least seven days. The operative words there are ‘at least.’”
Rett stepped back, palms out. “Okay, okay. I get it. Don’t touch your ouchie.”
“Damn straight.”
She pulled the covers up to Lucky’s chin. “Tuck, tuck, tuck.”
“What the hell?”
“It’s what I tell Tyrone when I tuck him in at night. Makes him giggle. You settled now?”
“Yeah. But you go on home to your kid. I don’t need any more help.”
“Says the man who couldn’t get his shirt off. Look, they cut you open a week ago. I can stick around for a few hours. Granny has Tyrone.” She strode toward the door. “I’ll be on the couch whether you like it or not.”
“Rett?”
“Now I done told you—”
“The guest room is made up. Might as well get what sleep you can.”
She nodded and turned out the light. The door snicked shut.
In a bed, all by himself, without even Moose and Cat Lucky for company, and no telling when Bo might get to come home.
But Lucky wasn’t by himself. Not really. He had Bo, Rett, and Walter.
And also Mom, Charlotte, and Daytona.
He could live without Bristol.
***
Lucky sat at the kitchen table. Again. Alone. The neighbor’s lawnmower buzzed next door—for the third time this week.
Maybe some kind of code for, “Dude, what grass you have needs cutting.”
No grass cutting for Lucky for a few more weeks. Maybe he should get Charlotte to bring him a few goats. That’d make the neighbors talk.
His phone chimed with a text midway through his second cup of coffee: At SNB Atlanta. Be home later—B.
Bo? Home? Hallelujah! Lucky’s definition of hell included the week since he’d kissed Bo goodbye and came home to lie in bed, watch TV, and fend off Johnson’s hovering whenever she came to check on him.
Dishes sat piled in the sink, empty dog food bags hung half out of the trashcan, and the four chairs clustered under the table. Might be a good idea to spruce the place up.
He gave himself a sniff. Yeah, he could stand a trip through the shower too, because, hello! Sex! Finally! With more than his right hand. And this time he wouldn’t fall asleep in the middle like yesterday after taking his meds.
Coming home to a messy house meant Bo cleaning and not getting naked.
Lucky straightened up, showered, and shaved. Still too many hours left before Bo got home, and he’d hear lectures from both Walter and Bo if he showed up at work.
He could wait until evening to get reacquainted with his man. Yes, he really could. Maybe he should get a few things at the grocery store for dinner.
The car cranked on the first try, so unlike a few months ago before Bo had the Camaro overhauled and painted for Lucky’s Christmas present. The dragon dangling from his keyring swayed in time to the music on the radio and Lucky’s off-key warbling.
Hmmmm… How’d he get to Peachtree Street? Must’ve taken a wrong turn. Well…since he was here…
Lucky parked in his usual spot, and took the elevator to the floor housing the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau. The door opened, and he peered around the corner. No Lisa. Good.
But also no Bo. Not in their shared cube, the breakroom, or Walter’s office. And also no Walter. Lisa emerged from the conference room and traipsed back to the reception desk.
So that’s where everybody went. The conference room. Lucky eased inside the partially opened door. All heads were bent over laptops. Maybe they wouldn’t notice…
Walter glanced up from a pile of papers in front of him with a scowl. “Have you been cleared to return to work?”
Bo popped his head up. “No. Now get your ass back home where you belong. You’ve only been back a week.”
Seven long, torturous days, with nothing to do but worry, and wait for some word from his family. Calling Mom, Charlotte, or Daytona might jeopardize Bo’s case.
“I belong here.” Lucky leaned against the wall, out of Bo’s swatting range.
Bo drummed his fingers on the table. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No. You belong at home resting and getting better.”
“And how am I supposed to rest knowing someone’s out to kill me?” Ha! Answer that one, Mr. I-know-better-what’s-good-for-you-than-you-do.
Walter waved a dismissive hand. “Stay, but as an observer.”
“Now wait a da—”
“You’ll abide by my rules or go home.” Walter going all boss wasn’t a good sign.
“Oh, all right.” Lucky inched up the table to Bo. Bo flipped his laptop screen closed. Two rookies sat at the far end. Oh, the young ones. So easy to intimidate. Lucky eased into a chair between them. “What ya got?”
The first one made eye contact with Walter. Damn, a smart one.
The dumber of the two blurted, “Bristol Lucklighter’s financial records.”
They had a suspect, now they needed a motive. As though being an unrepentant asshole wasn’t reason enough.
Walter’s glare dried up Lucky’s only lead in the room. “Why won’t you let me help?” he demanded.
“Because, I don’t want to involve you until we have to, once we’ve gotten a better feel for the events. Remember, you’re not supposed to be here.” Walter heaved out a sigh. “Besides, this is your family, you’re too close.”
Yeah. The doctor put him out of work for six weeks, contingent on his checkups. He’d been cut open two weeks ago. Still hurt, but he’d been through worse. Lucky left the rookies and parked himself by Walter.
Walter said nothing, but didn’t truly try to hide his reading material. Lucky lifted a sheet and read. Nothing out of the ordinary. Their suspect—best not to acknowledge him as “brother” right now—paid his bills, made a decent living, but didn’t manage to save a dime.
Damn. He sure paid for a lot of insurance. Lucky jabbed a finger at the page. “What’s this?”
“We already have someone chasing down leads.” Walter snatched the paper back.
Bo glanced at Lucky and turned his attention to Walter. “I believe we might have found something. I’m e-mailing.”
Walter opened his laptop, pushed a few buttons, and read the message. “I see. Keep looking.”
Like hell would they exclude Lucky from his own attempted murder case. “What are you looking for?”
Did Walter growl?
“Okay, okay, I’m going!” Lucky stepped out into the hallway. More than one way to skin a cat. He ambled down to his cube and opened the laptop someone brought back home. The insurance records weren’t hard to find. Hard to explain, but not hard to find. Why pay so much to insure a car? The man hadn’t even owned a house at the time.
Lucky pecked away on the keyboard, sifting through data for something relevant. Interesting, not so interesting. What have we here?
Lucky’d nearly put his findings together when Bo stepped into the cube. “Thought I’d find you here. Boss wants you.”
Maybe he’d found something, maybe he planned to make good on his threat to toss Lucky out of the building.
Bo stopped before the closed conference room door. He said nothing, merely took Lucky into his arms and held him close.
Spending a week in Bo’s arms would make one hellacious vacation, but Lucky had questions, and the answers might be on the other side of the door. He’d take a raincheck on the holding.
He pushed open the door to his doom, heart skipping a beat. “You sent for me.”
“Sit down.” Walter shoved his fingers under his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
Lucky took a seat next to his boss.
“How much do you know about your brother in recent years?” Dark circles underscored the boss’s eyes.
“He’s a no-account asshole.”
“From what I’ve seen,” Walter waved at the pile of papers, “I’m inclined to agree. What else?”
“He liked to live high on the hog, as my grandparents might say. Why?”
Walter traded a look with Bo, who moved behind Lucky’s chair and massaged Lucky’s shoulders. Oh shit. Must be awful.
“Lucky, it seems Bristol Lucklighter loved his family very much,” Walter began.
“What? Bristol? Bristol never cared about anyone but Bristol.” Maybe Walter had the wrong Bristol Lucklighter.
“He did. He cared so much, in fact, that he carried a life insurance policy on each of you.”
“He did what?” Lucky sprung out of his chair. Oh fuck! Ouch! He held his incision.
“It seems he even carried a policy on you, as sole beneficiary. When you died, he collected a half million dollars.” The document on Walter’s computer screen showed one hell of a lot of zeros.
“Sonofabitch.” Lucky clutched his head to keep a sudden brilliant flash of the obvious from exploding his brain. “And he had one on Dad, too, didn’t he?”
Walter punched a few keys and another form appeared. “Yes.”
“’Sonofabitch’ doesn’t quite cover this one.” Instead of helping Dad, the bastard hoped the man would die so he could line his pockets.
“Now we have our motive. Your being alive makes things inconvenient for a man who’d cashed in your life insurance policy. Especially when he appears to be broke.”
The big house, the fancy car. All paid for by a dead brother. But… “Go back farther.”
“Already on it,” one of the rookies spoke from down the table. “Here it is. A policy for Daytona Lucklighter, taken out fifteen years ago.”
About the time the kid started messing with drugs. “He tried to kill Daytona and pin it on me.”
Walter nodded. “A decent theory.”
“Not only did he want Daytona’s insurance money, he’d always wanted to be the oldest son. He couldn’t stand me being the oldest.” Twisted little bastard.
“But how do we prove he gave Daytona the drugs?” Bo went back to massaging Lucky’s shoulders.
Walter frowned at his empty coffee cup. “We need to interview Daytona Lucklighter again.”
***
Lucky waited at the house, pacing the living room. At long last, Bo pulled into the drive. Good. He started the tea maker for Bo’s green tea and pulled a casserole dish out of the microwave. Chinese takeout, but still, Lucky did put dinner on the table.
He’d even gone to Mrs. Griggs and the Smith’s to get the pets and put Moose in the backyard until after they ate.
The day took its toll. Lucky sagged down into a chair.
Any minute Bo would come in, they’d have dinner, and he’d reacquaint himself with every inch of his lover’s body.
And then grill him about the case.
Yeah, sounded like a plan.
“Lucky? Lucky!”
“Huh?” Lucky raised his head. How’d he gotten his face into a plateful of chow mein?
“Lucky, you’re dead tired. Go to bed.” Bo mopped at Lucky’s face with a paper towel.
“What?”
“You fell asleep in your food. Go to bed.”
“Don’t wanna. Not without you.” He still owed Bo one for stealing his clothes, and oh the creative ways he’d take his payback. When he worked up enough energy.
“Come on, then, I’ll go with you.” Bo guided Lucky to the bedroom, eased him down on the bed, and proceeded to strip him.
“Oh! Getting me naked so you can have your way with me, right?” Lucky’s dick tried to rally but didn’t get very far.
“Yeah. I’m going to take advantage of a man too exhausted to eat.”
“Give me a minute, I’ll be okay.” And he would be too, especially with Bo stretched out beside him. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Bo examined the Steri-Strips over Lucky’s incision.
“Yup, I’m sure.” Oh, hell, yeah!
Bo stood, wearing a playful smile and fewer clothes by the minutes. What a body. What a cock. What a…
Lucky woke up with the sun streaming through the window, an empty bed, and a note: “Walter called me in. Said it was important. I’ll let you know what time I’m coming home.
Damn it!
***
Lucky tiptoed by the SNB reception desk even though Lisa wasn’t there to question his being at work, and hauled ass for the SNB conference room. Bo, Walter, the rookies, Jimmy, and Daytona occupied chairs around the central rectangular table.
Daytona? Here?
“Oh, Lucky. Right on time.” Trust Walter to pretend nothing happened by accident.
Lucky nodded and planted his ass halfway between Bo and Daytona. They played questions and answers, Lucky keeping his mouth shut at a narrow-eyed glower from Bo. Yeah, observer. Not his case.
During a break, Daytona asked, “So, it really wasn’t you?” He appeared more his old self, less haggard, less pressed down by the weight of the world.
“To be honest, I’m kinda put out you ever believed I’d tempt you, after all you’d gone through. Come on, would I spend that kind of money on a twerp like you?” How easy old habits came back. Lucky teased Daytona, but gently. The kid used to run to Mama quicker’n shit.
Daytona chuckled and smiled for the first time since their recent reunion. “Nah. You wouldn’t. I’m glad. I’ve missed you.”
Lucky fought the flinch when his brother grabbed him too tightly.
When Daytona pulled back, his eyes glistened.
More time to catch up later. Right now they had a case to build. “We got a problem to figure out,” Lucky said.
“What?”
“I didn’t send you the drugs, but who did?” No need telling the kid about Bristol’s penchant for insuring relatives.
Daytona squared his shoulders. “Easy enough. And I should’ve figured this out too.”
“What?”
“Bristol sent me a birthday present the same year you did, the only one he ever gave me.” Daytona tapped his fingertips on the table.
Walter ambled down to their end of the table. “What did he give you?”
“The video game I’d been wanting.”
***
Sunlight gave way to shadows in the conference room when Walter finally called it a day, amid empty soda cans, coffee cups, and pizza boxes. Lucky pitied housekeeping.
“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Even not at his best, he’d put on a burst of energy for his kid brother. “We got an extra room.”
Daytona hung his head. “I’m afraid I can’t.”
Jimmy rose from his chair and rounded the table to join Lucky and Daytona. “It’s imperative to our case that Bristol finds out nothing. Daytona returned his car and said he couldn’t find you. Even so, long absences might get attention.”
“In the meantime, Lucky, you’ll continue to be watched.” Walter made his presence known, his glare warning Lucky against arguing.
Lucky never had been one to heed warnings. “Not the rookie from IT again.” Nothing subtle about Keith’s latest protégé. “Bo’ll be there. Why can’t he watch me?”
Bo stayed silent.
Oh, hell. “You won’t be here.”
“I have to be back to Richmond first thing Monday morning, so I need to head out Sunday.” Bo finally glanced up, lips pursed and lines showing around his mouth. Damn, but now would be a fine time for an appearance of The Dimple, and, “Just kidding! I never have to leave you again!”
No brother, no lover. Alone with the pets.
“Take care of yourself, bro.” Day gave Lucky an enthusiastic hug and traipsed along after Jimmy out of the room.
“I’ll be in my office if you need me.” Walter gave the rookies his well-practiced, over-the-top-of-his-glasses glare. “You may continue working in your cubes.” Wow. Nicest “get the hell out of here” Lucky’d ever heard. The rookies shot out the door.
Walter closed the door behind him, leaving Lucky alone with Bo. Lucky strolled over to the window slowly, listening for Bo’s footsteps. In the distance, Stone Mountain kept watch over the city of Atlanta.
Once he’d walked up behind Bo here, put his arms around his man as Bo did now to Lucky. Lucky leaned back into the embrace.
“Hell of a time for you to have to leave. Can’t they reassign you back down here?” Tonight, Lucky wouldn’t fall asleep too soon. He might not be ready to run marathons, but he could… do something. Needed something. Before he exploded from lack of sex.
Bo brushed his lips against Lucky’s temple. “I have to. Gotta finish what we started. Then I’ll be home.”
And forevermore one of them would leave, and the other stay, tossing and turning at night and worrying, visualizing their lover’s face on the SNB memorial page.
“I don’t like you being gone all the time. Or me neither.” They’d done very little living together since deciding to live together.
“I know. But it’s only for a little while.”
“You can’t know that. Little whiles have a way of turning into big whiles.” Or really big whiles.
Bo ruffled Lucky’s hair with his sigh. “What can I do? I have a job. A case. You better than anyone should understand.”
“I understand and don’t like it. Is this how the rest of our lives will be? Always apart for some case or other.” Not the vision of picket-fence domestic bliss Bo claimed to want. “We’ve done our time. Nothing’s making us stay here.” They could find other jobs. Do something not requiring being shot at, or shot up.
“We’re good at what we do, and do we even know how to do anything else?”
Lucky did—mostly illegal stuff. “You got a college degree.”
“I could never go back into a pharmacy. You know that. And pharma companies wouldn’t be a good bet, either.”
No, they wouldn’t. Not with all the temptation they’d offer a recovering addict. “Just the same. I don’t like you being gone. I don’t like the dangerous work you do.”
Bo snorted. “And your work isn’t dangerous?”
“Not anymore, unless some overexcited rookie misses a target and shoots me. And being raised redneck taught me how to duck.” Bo wanted kids. Maybe Lucky did too. Wouldn’t be fair to bring a child into their unstable lives.
Bo answered with kisses on the back of Lucky’s neck. Lucky turned. Rising on his toes might hurt, so he stayed still, summoning Bo down to his height.
Bo opened his mouth for Lucky’s tongue, moaning when they connected. The scent of him, the feel of him in Lucky’s arms—oh God, he needed Bo now.
Anyone might walk in, but getting caught during an intimate moment didn’t matter. Lucky ran his fingers up Bo’s arms, resting his hands on Bo’s broad shoulders. So familiar, yet so new at the same time. Their moans mingled, vibrating through their joined tongues.
Lucky traced Bo’s jawline with his fingertips, the slightly crooked nose, a day’s worth of stubble adding interest. He stepped close enough to rub his cock against Bo’s leg through their pants.
Bo clutched him tighter, just shy of painful. A moment later pain couldn’t reach him, only Bo’s hand, climbing up under his shirt, knuckles teasing Lucky’s nipples.
The meeting of tongues and bodies continued. They shouldn’t be doing this here, but right now Lucky couldn’t remember why.
Bo pulled back, a bit breathless. “Let’s go home. It’s been too long.”
“I don’t know how much good I’ll be.” For Bo, Lucky would crawl through broken glass.
“All you gotta do is be there.”
Worked for Lucky.
He didn’t even have to stop by the cube to get his laptop, but he waited while Bo did. Leaving his computer here gave him reason to sneak back into the office if needed. Together Lucky and Bo trudged down the hall to the elevator.
Lisa winked from behind the reception desk. “Good to have you back, guys.”
Bo nodded. Lucky lacked energy for words.
They stepped onto the elevator. The moment the doors slid shut, Bo attacked, much like Lucky’s ambushes during Bo’s rookie year.
Mouth, neck, chin, forehead: Bo caressed them all in an open-mouthed kiss, one hand on Lucky’s back burning a hole through his shirt, the other cupping Lucky’s hardness through too-damned-in-the-way pants.
Without looking, Bo slapped the panel behind him. The elevator stopped. No telling what kind of cameras the IT geeks installed.
Let ‘em watch.
Lucky wound up with his back against the wall. He let out a grunt.
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?” Concern filled Bo’s eyes.
“Nope. And tell me you’ll pick this up at home.” No condoms! Hallelujah! No condoms!
The Dimple appeared. “Let’s try not to break any speed limits.”
Despite Bo’s warning, they got home in record time. Speeding? Gunning the Camaro through yellow lights? Well… Maybe.
But risking a ticket might be worth the lip lock Bo laid on him right inside the front door. He nearly jerked the blinds off the windows getting them closed, and slowed down when helping Lucky strip.
As reverent as a worshipper, Bo removed Lucky’s shirt and urged him down on the couch. Lucky gripped the arm to keep the couch from flipping backwards as it’d done before.
On his knees, Bo wriggled off first one of Lucky’s shoes, then the other, brought Lucky’s feet to his mouth, and placed a kiss on the instep of each. Slowly, so slowly, he removed both socks, his grin promising so many bad, wicked, totally amazing things.
He reared back, rolling his shirt up over the lean muscles of his chest, yanked the cotton knit over his head, and tossed the SNB uniform shirt to the floor.
Somehow he managed to unbutton and unzip his pants, and have them off in two seconds flat. No professional strip-tease, just the unveiling of all his glorious flesh. Boxers, socks, shoes… all discarded in a pile on the floor.
Who was this man, and what had he done with Lucky’s neat-freak lover?
Bo lowered his head and trailed gentle kisses around Lucky’s incision. “There. All better, right?”
Nope, but wrap those lips around Lucky’s cock, and give him a distraction.
Lucky ran his fingers up tight abs and around Bo’s side, drawing him close enough to bathe Bo’s warm skin with his tongue, and caress his erection.
“Up!” Lucky motioned with his hand. Up! Up!
Bo stood again, and Lucky swiped his tongue over the head of Bo’s cock, lingering over the tasty drops of pre-come. Hot damn. The scent, taste, feel, all brought Lucky too close to the edge for someone barely getting started.
Bo straddled Lucky’s thighs and ground his wonderfully round ass onto Lucky’s so-hard-it-ached cock. He could lap dance on Lucky any damned time.
Perfect.
Bo turned and knelt. Mouth to mouth, cock to cock, sliding, gliding, thrusting… A helluva reunion.
Somebody should be inside someone else, but damned if having Bo against him didn’t feel too good to move. Lucky wedged his hand between their bodies and captured both of their cocks. Bo joined the task, and they stroked together, skimming their tongues against each other’s in time with their humping.
Smooth skin, coarse hair, bunching muscles, part and parcel of Bo. Harder, faster…
“I’m gonna blow,” Lucky muttered against Bo’s lips.
“Do it.”
Lucky let go, falling over the edge of ecstasy and taking Bo with him.
Oh my God! Lucky gritted his teeth and clutched his middle. OW!
Bo kissed away the hurt.
And then some.