Bad Behavior (Bad in Baltimore) by K.A. Mitchell Read Free Book Online Page A

they’d barely scratched the surface. There were words for it, words he shied away from naming. Words he’d uttered with disdain or mockery for people who felt the need to complicate sex with silly games and costumes, when fucking was as simple and natural an act as breathing.
    But what had happened, what he wanted to happen, touched more than just the happy, pleasure parts, though they were certainly involved, he noted with a glance at his half-hard dick. Beach wasn’t one to be counted on for deep thoughts, but standing naked on his balcony at three a.m. seemed to dredge them up. Staring at the black water of the harbor, he had to admit those dizzying moments under the thrall of the other man’s authority had touched what Beach could only call his soul.
    No way in hell was he going to have a bare taste and then spend the rest of his life wondering what might have been. He pressed send as if he could reach through the phone and touch the man on the other end.
    The thought tugged at his guts, then lower. If Sam—Sir?—were here now, if he sent back a hot demand… Beach dropped the phone on the glass table and grabbed his dick, thumbing the slit to work out some precome. It wasn’t the risk of getting caught driving him, but the imagined presence on the phone. Faster, tighter. Even if it burned. He shivered at the idea. How much sensation, how much pain would there be in chasing this high?
    The thought of pain was almost always enough to send Beach running in the other direction, but all it did right now was make his dick harder, drag his nuts up.
    No.
    If Officer Fonoti called back, Beach could be waiting. Aching for it. He yanked his hand away like his dick was on fire, clenching his fist in frustration as the smooth build to orgasm turned into a knotted mess in his balls.
    “Now would be good,” he whispered at his phone.
    This was crazy. Sweating on the balcony with a chafed, aching dick when there was lube and air-conditioning on the other side of the glass. He was the only person in Baltimore awake.
    His phone vibrated against the tabletop, and Beach dove for it.
    Don’t contact me again.
    The response might have been unequivocal to some people. To Beach, the quick answer meant a lot more.
    Why? Beach’s finger shook when he tapped send .
    I can’t.
    Beach smiled as he read the answer. The space between I can’t and I don’t want to held infinite possibilities.
    Gavin smiled beatifically as he lowered the mimosa to the table. “Nothing like fresh squeezed.”
    Beach’s mouth watered at the thought. Miss Shirley’s did them right. It wasn’t the buzz he was missing. It would take more than the champagne bubbling through the orange juice to go to his head, but he wanted that taste. Could feel it at his lips, sliding over his tongue. How sensitive was the damned monitor? One little sip probably wouldn’t register.
    Gavin tipped his glass back again, smile going wicked. “I’m sure they could make you a virgin mimosa.”
    “The sweet tea is fine.” Beach gripped the tall glass and glared across the table. He knew the bastard had ordered the mimosa on purpose.
    “I’m sure it is.”
    Patronizing and smug. That prick of a cop was rubbing off on Beach’s oldest friend.
    “How long are you going to take it out on me for that little adventure?”
    “To which adventure are you referring?” Gavin’s eyes and his grammar got serious. “The one where we both almost died going off the Key Bridge, or the one where you coerced me into criminal trespass out on Fort Carroll that nearly cost me my chance with—” Gavin stopped himself as the waiter approached to take their orders.
    Beach’s eyebrows shot up. It was that kind of serious with Sergeant Boyfriend—Jamie. Beach supposed he’d better get used to the idea, and the name. “Your father will be thrilled to give you away at the wedding.”
    For an instant the tightness in Gavin’s jaw made Beach remember exactly how it had felt when the ground