Beneath the Stain - Part 1 by Amy Lane Read Free Book Online Page A

came just getting you off.”
    Sure you did. You didn’t come. I don’t think you even got hard.
    “Oh no! Grant—your slacks!”
    “You go back inside, babe. I’ve got a rag in here I can use to clean up, okay?”
    “You sure? Man, one of these days you’ve got to remember condoms, babe. We’re gonna have our V-cards forever!”
    “No crime in that,” Grant said gently. Mackey heard what must have been a kiss, and he saw her stumbling across the parking lot, barefoot, her pantyhose probably wadded in her purse.
    Mackey waited until he heard the slam of the door back into the gym before he took a step out of the shadows—
    —straight into Grant’s arms.
    “You hear that?” Grant whispered harshly, pushing Mackey back into the dark.
    “Whole fucking world heard it,” Mackey snarled, hurt and horny and desperate. “You couldn’t take her someplace I wouldn’t hear? You like what that does to me? You think that’s fun?”
    “ No !” Grant shoved at him, his height and the breadth of his chest enough to force Mackey back against the wall of the cul-de-sac meant to hide the guys in the changing rooms from the world. “You think it’s fun for me?” he whispered, nuzzling Mackey’s neck roughly, his tongue making forays against his skin, his teeth nipping Mackey’s ear and his neck. “I don’t want her. She’s a nice girl, but I don’t get hard for her. All I can think about while she’s touching me is how bad I want to be touching you.”
    Mackey closed his eyes against the words, because they hurt, flayed , tore the skin from his flesh. “Dammit, how can you even say that to me?” He shoved at Grant’s chest, but Grant didn’t go anywhere.
    “It’s the only truth I got,” Grant muttered, and then his mouth crashed down on Mackey’s and there was no more room for words.
    It was a brutal kiss, teeth and lips, bony fingers digging into muscles, Grant’s stubble scrubbing roughly at Mackey’s cheeks.
    Grant’s hands plundered, popping two of Mackey’s buttons from the bottom of the shirt as he spanned Mackey’s ribcage with his big, callused hands. Mackey clenched Grant’s dress shirt, trying to stay anchored, trying to stay in control.
    “I’ve tasted your cock,” Grant muttered into his ear. “I want it again.”
    Mackey moaned, stunned at the words, even more stunned when Grant sank to his knees and yanked Mackey’s pants down his backside.
    He’d done this before. Mackey closed his eyes against the memory and yanked at Grant’s hair, hard, wanting his turn to taste, but Grant ignored him, taking Mackey down his throat and swallowing.
    “You think I don’t want to taste too?” Mackey demanded, and Grant moaned against him. Words. Mackey knew words. “You think I don’t want your come… fuckin’ God !”
    Grant’s hand and fingers were slick with spit and Mackey’s precome, but Mackey was still shocked when Grant shoved two fingers up his ass.
    It hurt, was rough, but underneath the shock and the pain was an edgy dark ache of pleasure, and Mackey came, muttering obscenities under his breath.
    “Come here !” he snapped, hauling Grant up by the hair. This time Grant moved, and Mackey lunged at him, tasting his own come before Grant swallowed and finding it bitter but sucking it off his tongue anyway.
    Grant moaned, and even though Mackey was so much smaller, he let Mackey turn him around, shove him against the wall for a change, and then sink down to a squat on the cold concrete of the changing room alcove.
    Mackey wanted more. He wanted to linger on Grant’s body, touch his skin, take his nipples into his mouth and pull. He’d seen Grant in his underwear, in his swim trunks, hell, naked often enough, Mackey wanted time to make that skin and flesh all his.
    But he didn’t have time. He had this dark pocket of damp concrete, and Grant’s slacks bunched up in his fists as he pulled down. His own pants were still open, his dick chilling as he squatted half-naked, but