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Jason pushed up on his elbows and knees, rocking into the roll of Kennedy’s hips. They fell right into a natural rhythm, push and pull, back and forth, forehand and backhand…now picking up speed. The mattress springs squeaked loudly, the headboard rapped against the wall.
“Oh God, yes,” Jason panted. “Oh my God, I need…”
This. All of it. The warm light, the sharp smell of sex, the slick sounds, the heat of skin and warm breath…the connection. You could not see—experience first-hand—the worst of humanity, as they did all too often, and not crave some proof that there was still something more, something better. Yes. He needed to feel some healthy, happy human connection. And you couldn’t get much closer than this.
Kennedy whispered into his ear, “You’re something else, West. Something special…really special…” impaling him in easy, rhythmic strokes.
I bet you say that to all your temporary partners…
They were racing toward it now, breathing hard, skin flushed, flesh slapping. Kennedy’s cock thrust into Jason’s hole with swift, strong strokes, piercing him so deeply, so sweetly, his insides were quivering.
Jason gasped with each thrust. “Ah…” A small heartfelt sound of pleasure so acute it was almost pain, his moans in time to the fierce guttural sounds Kennedy made.
“Ah…ah…AHH…”
Kennedy’s fingers dug into Jason’s hips as he changed the angle of his approach, the broad, blunt tip grazing Jason’s prostate.
Oh, Christ. Jason reared back, and Kennedy’s arms locked around his waist, holding him upright, clamped tight, tighter, against his own broad torso. Jason’s head fell back against Kennedy’s shoulder, his back flexed as Kennedy impaled him again and again in that most exquisitely vulnerable of all places.
Jason began to sob. It was just so…insanely sweet…like getting hit by lightning. Yes, little lightning strikes of erotic bliss.
As though he really had been struck by lightning, electricity seemed to crackle at the base of his spine and shoot through him, balls to brain. He came so hard he was afraid he was going to blow apart. This orgasm wasn’t a gentle blossoming; it was a time-lapse explosion of color and perfume. He felt the hot splash of his release hit his belly and spatter his chest and Kennedy’s hands.
“Yeah, that’s it…” Kennedy said with deep satisfaction, slowing his thrusts, seeming to savor Jason’s reaction.
Jason threw his head back, panting, felt Kennedy’s lips brush his skin, kiss his tears.
Kennedy reached up to Jason’s nipples which were almost unbearably sensitive now, but it was okay. He wriggled his ass more snuggly against Kennedy’s groin, encouraging him because his own orgasm was spent and drying, and he just wanted it over, just wanted to enjoy the afterglow and sleep.
Kennedy’s thrusts picked up speed again; his hips lunged, smacking Jason’s butt, and Jason moved to accommodate. Kennedy’s fingers traced his lips, and Jason tasted himself. It was shocking and erotic, more so when Kennedy whispered, “Suck.”
Suck?
But okay, whatever Kennedy needed, whatever it was going to take to get this done so they could sleep. Jason licked Kennedy’s fingers, took the tips into his mouth, began to suck. Why would this be a turn-on? He wasn’t sure. He gave it his best effort. Salty-sweet. And surprise, surprise… He felt his own cock starting to stir as Kennedy came powerfully, almost violently, inside him.
When it was over
Kennedy crashed down beside Jason and, to his surprise, wrapped a muscular arm around him.
Did Kennedy like a cuddle after sex? Now there was a funny thought. Actually though…it was kind of nice like this. More comfortable than he would have thought.
His skin tingled as Kennedy traced a delicate finger over the whorl of pink scar tissue. The exit wound on the back of Jason’s shoulder was larger, uglier.
Jason murmured, “My team went to Miami, and all I got was this lousy bullet hole.”
“How did it happen?”
“Equipment malfunction.” He opened his eyes and smiled at Kennedy, but Kennedy was not smiling.
Well, it wasn’t a funny story. It was a terrifying story. The story of how Jason had nearly been shot to death.
“I was working with the Miami field office on the recovery of almost two hundred ancient pre-Columbian artifacts. We were all pretty excited especially after it turned out these items were in the possession of some very bad actors who needed cash to finance their drug trade. Two birds with one stone.”
“Nice.”
“Yeah. The takedown was to take place in a downtown hotel room.”
“Not ideal.”
