Six Degrees of Lust (10 page)

when he had laughed, Mac thought he’d made some progress,

but apparently he’d pushed Sam too hard. Damn it.

“Then let me feel you come.” Mac kissed him one more time,

then leaned his head on Sam’s bicep and breathed him in. Mac

had never been this aggressive with anyone before, and not being

able to stop trying to witness every second of Sam’s pleasure was

frustrating and freaking him out at the same time. “Now.”

Of course Sam didn’t move. He just looked at Mac straight in

the eyes for what felt like ages. Then he smirked.

The message was loud and clear. Sexy Super Agent did things

when he wanted to and not a second earlier; especially if he was

told. And finally—thank you, lord—he grabbed Mac’s ass with

one hand and fucked his hole with the other, twisting his finger

around in search of that one spot that might or might not send

Mac over the edge. It did. His guttural groan was proof of it.

But before he could come, Sam withdrew his finger and

finished taking Mac’s shoes and jeans off. He didn’t bother with

his own. When he pushed him on his back Mac lifted his legs and

spread them, desperate to feel Sam’s weight on him. He reached

down and cupped his lover’s tight nuts, slowly caressing them

before moving his hand up to wrap around his dick. Sam moaned

and got on top of Mac.

To have their cocks touch again felt glorious to Mac. Their

gazes locked and their mouths scraped together, then Mac started

to pump, sliding them together within his hand. Sam’s undulating

hips took care of the rest.

Their rhythm was ruthless and frantic and, although their

sweat and pre-cum kept it from being abrasive, it still was a little

62 Taylor V. Donovan

painful. Domineering. Mac wouldn’t have had it any other way,

because it meant Sam wasn’t as much in control as he appeared

to be. Mac pushed up, his feet firmly planted on the mattress, and

Sam drove down. They both cried out when their balls slapped

together.

Sam thrust once. Twice. He grabbed a handful of Mac’s

hair and kissed him so deeply he couldn’t breathe. Then, with a

hoarse moan, the Yankee threw his head back and shot his seed

all over Mac’s torso. Goddammit, he was beautiful. The intensity

of Sam’s orgasm did funny things to Mac’s stomach. He wanted

more. Fucking needed more.

And so did his partner. He’d just come but he remained hard,

ready for round two. Sam half smiled at him and buried three

fingers in his own thick, warm cum. He then shoved his hand

between Mac’s legs and smeared it around his hole.

“Oh Jesus,” Mac whimpered. “Oh my God…” The fingers

inside his pucker reduced him to a panting fool. His thighs

trembled. His balls tingled and grew tight. His rectum closed in

a vise and his dick was on fire. His fucking ears were ringing and

wouldn’t stop… then somehow he realized it was the phone.

“Ignore it,” Sam ordered when Mac turned his head and

glared at the offending device, finger fucking him harder and

deeper, making him whimper and sob in a way that would

be embarrassing if Mac actually gave a shit. Under present

circumstances, he didn’t. The annoying ringing stopped and Mac

wrapped one leg around Sam’s waist, rolling his hips against his

fingers. “Where’s the lube?”

“Bathroom,” he whispered. “My—”

The phone rang again. Sam started to jerk him off. Stroke,

twist, another stroke. The phone stopped. Thumb rubbing the

head of his cock. Another stroke. Somewhere something was

buzzing. Twist. It was his cell phone. Mac was positive.

Fingers almost all the way out of his hole, then in again.

Stroke. Fingers pressing on his prostate, doing the trick yet

again, making him moan. Phone ringing. Mac held his breath.

six DegRees of Lust
63

“Whoever it is can leave a message,” Sam whispered in his ear.

Licked his lips, down his neck. His right nipple.

The phone kept ringing.

Mac stopped moving and lowered his legs. “Shit!”

“You’re kidding me!” Mac bit his lip and put his hands on

Sam’s slightly freckled shoulders, gently pushing him away.

The Yank sat back on his knees and looked at him, disbelief,

frustration and irritation blending in his bright cobalt blue eyes.

“Un-fucking-believable!”

Mac winced when those strong, wicked fingers withdrew and

for a moment considered asking him to put them back in. Sam

was right. Whoever it was could leave a message, but truth was

the interruption had totally thrown him off. What if his friends

were on their way back to the hotel? What if something was

happening back home?

“Just… Give me one minute…” He rubbed his face with

his hands and swallowed hard when his voice trembled a little.

“Please.”

§ § § §

Sam shook his head and rolled to the side. He was so damn

aggravated he could have hit something, and it was taking a great

deal of effort on his part not to go and rip the damn phone line

off its jack. Was he ever going to be able to stick his damn dick

in this guy’s ass?

He took a deep breath and looked at Mac who, at the moment,

was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders a bit hunched, his

voice very low, the phone tightly gripped in one hand while the

other bunched up the bedspread. And he was beyond tense.

Sam had no intention of listening in on Mac’s conversation,

but how was he supposed to not when they were in the same

damn room? It was inevitable, and once he caught bits like “No,

didn’t do anything tonight”; “Is everything okay with you?” and

“It’s too soon to discuss plans for Memorial Day. We’ll talk about

it when I get back” Sam jumped out of the bed, a queasy feeling

64 Taylor V. Donovan

settling in his stomach. He grabbed his shirt from the floor and

headed for the bathroom, not stopping when he heard Tex tell

whoever he was on the phone with he’d call them before getting

on the plane.

“What are you doing?” Mac’s deep drawl reached him from

the bedroom. He was now standing by the bed in all his naked

glory, and what a sight that was. Sam got hard all over again.

“Washing up.” He left the washcloth by the sink and put his

t-shirt back on.

“I thought you were going to give me a minute.”

“I gave you ten.” Sam turned the bathroom light off and

approached Mac, his gaze going straight to the guy’s left hand.

For a second there he was relieved to find it bare. Then he

remembered that didn’t mean shit.

“I’m sorry. I—”

“It’s all good, Tex.” Sam patted his pockets to make sure he

had his wallet, keys, and cell phone before giving the big guy a

thorough once over. He shook his head and headed for the door.

“Could’ve been fun, though.”

“We can still have some fun,” Mac said, stepping in front

of Sam and blocking his exit, but it was obvious the night had

already gone to shit.

“If only you were up to it,” Sam said, carefully touching Mac’s

now soft penis with the back of his fingers. “But you aren’t.” He

side-stepped Mac and opened the door. “Have a safe trip.”

§ § § §

And just like that he was gone.

Mac felt like screaming. But he couldn’t. The lump in his

throat wouldn’t let him. At the end he just rubbed his chest with

a tight fist and bumped his head against the door.

“Goddammit.”

May 18, 2009

New York City

“I’m so sick of this shit! I’m done. Fucking done with him!

Matter of fact, I’m done with men in general. They’re nothing

but a major pain in the ass and not in the good way either! I go

out of my way, and for what? I’ll tell you what for, nothing! The

man can’t even find thirty minutes to have a freaking bagel and

mocha latte with me. He wouldn’t even give me a valid reason

why he couldn’t spend time with me, but he sure as hell is full

of fucking excuses for everything else. Argh! Why does this keep

happening to me? Have I become repulsive and didn’t notice?

Am I a major bore? I mean, what the fuck is wrong with me?”

Christian Murphy continued to pace and shot a look at his

friend Gabi, who, at the moment, was sitting on a fabulous

light blue contemporary chaise in his SoHo loft, trying to get

comfortable and mumbling something about Cleopatra and

grapes while he carried on.

He knew the chaise wasn’t her favorite piece of furniture in

his house, but loyal friend that she was, she’d parked on it anyway.

She mumbled some more, then lay on her back.

“Chrissy, did you go grocery shopping? Have any grapes?”

He didn’t answer her.

Chris knew he was being a total prima donna at the moment.

Gabi was probably sick of his shit and feeling like strangling him,

but he knew she would listen for as long as he talked. They’d

been through this before. She knew it was better to just keep

quiet and let him go on and on until he’d worked at least part of

his outrage out of his system.

Not that it’d do her a bit of good to try and get a word in

66 Taylor V. Donovan

anyway. Not because he wouldn’t take her advice, but because her

words would be just an annoying buzz until he’d calmed down.

When Christian was pissed off about something, nothing else

registered.

It was ten times worse when he was upset over whatever his

boyfriend du jour had done…or not done.

“I only get to see Julian four or five times a month,” he

complained. “And we live in the same city, for Christ’s sake!

He said I’m getting clingy. Can you believe that shit? He’s my

boyfriend. We’re supposed to spend time together, aren’t we? But

we don’t… Can I even call him my boyfriend at this point? We

don’t even talk much anymore… I’m so confused… Fuck!”

He walked over to the fridge and grabbed two bottles of

Evian, handing one to Gabi on his way back to the living room.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have intruded. Maybe I just have to learn

to be patient…be understanding of Julian’s creative process and

overlook his quirkiness while he finishes whatever it is he’s doing.

I mean, he did tell me about this masterpiece he’s been working

on for years and he insists must be finished by December.”

He threw himself on the couch and glanced at Gabi, who

had gotten up from the chaise and was now going through

his cupboards and shaking her head. He’d forgotten to order

groceries. So what? He had more important things to worry

about than fresh bread and milk.

Like, was his boyfriend getting ready to kick him to the curb?

Maybe he should be kicking Julian to the curb. Bastard

deserved it for standing him up on Friday anyway.

He didn’t want to, though.

“I can see how he’d be obsessed with a particular piece,” he

continued. “We artists tend to be a little neurotic and get lost in

our creativity, so that’s understandable… But it doesn’t justify or

excuse Julian from acting like an ass to me.”

Julian’s need to close himself off in his studio for days at a

time, not allowing even Christian to enter his inner sanctum, was

seriously grating on his nerves. It pissed him the hell off not

six DegRees of Lust
67

being allowed to hang out. There was only so much eccentricity

he was willing to deal with.

“Give him some space, Chris,” he heard Gabi say. “You know

Julian is shy and introverted. It’s probably taking him longer to

get used to his success and everything that’s been happening to

him.”

“Are you trying to say I’m suffocating him?”

“I’m saying you’re very social and outgoing and like to be with

people all the time and Julian doesn’t.”

“Is it too much to ask that he spends some time with me?”

“You can’t hide behind your relationship with Julian, you

know that right?”

“What are you talking about?”

Gabi rolled her eyes at him and Chris gulped some of his

water.

So he might be using Julian to get over Remy, the beautiful

Cajun boy that had turned Christian’s feelings into gumbo with

his rejection a few months ago. He was a little selfish. Everybody

knew that. But last time he checked, making an effort to find

some peace and contentment wasn’t a sin.

“I really like Julian, just so you know.”

As a man who more often than not got involved with guys

that were only interested in getting busy and moving on, Chris

had been totally charmed by Julian’s slow approach. It’d been

refreshing to get to know someone before taking things to the

next step…even if that next step wasn’t remotely as earth-

shattering and hot as Chris had hoped.

He got up and started pacing again. “I think he’s cheating on

me.”

“So you keep saying.”

“We haven’t spent a lot of time together, and our intimacy is

sporadic at best.”