Stripped Bare by Susan Mac Nicol Read Free Book Online Page A

of him. He was dealing with him not only as a friend of David’s and a mutual enemy of Walter Debussy, but also as a man he was very attracted to. Matthew didn’t give himself lightly. He’d never been one for sleeping around, or being with a different man each week. Well, not unless you counted his total meltdown when Sam died and he’d also lost—he quickly checked himself.
    No point in dwelling on that . That way only bought back deep, dark memories and a crushing sense of failure.
    He’d had a couple of short-lived relationships, trying to assuage the ache of Sam’s loss, but they’d fizzled out as soon as soon as the other men realised he still hadn’t gotten over Sam. Now he found the occasional solace in one-night stands at the clubs when the pressure was on, or like he was going to do now, relieving the tension himself in his shower or in his bed.
    He started the shower, shed his clothes and stepped under the hot, needle-like onslaught that washed over his aching shoulders. He turned his face up to the water, catching the droplets with his tongue, feeling the stress and strain of the evening soaking out of his face.
    His left hand stroked his cock, slowly at first, then faster. His hand was slick with water as he increased both the pressure and the speed. He groaned, the sensations building up quickly. It won’t take long , he thought as he took a deep, shuddering breath. He’d been aroused the whole time he’d been with Shane, the man’s intense blue stare and obvious concern for him a real turn-on. Just the man’s touch on his skin had been enough to make him hard. It was a long time since anyone had seemed to care about Matthew that way. Not since Sam.
    He closed his eyes as his imminent orgasm took over his thoughts, his mind conjuring up pictures of the naked Shane tied up on David’s hotel bed, and with a strangled gasp, he came, hot fluid arching up onto the shower wall, covering his hands with sticky semen that quickly washed down the drain.
    He leaned his forehead against the cool tiles, his chest heaving. God, that had been intense. Matthew felt less stressed but still not completely satisfied. He felt almost cheated. He wanted the real thing. But that wasn’t going to happen. He should never have given the man his business card. Getting emotionally involved with someone now was not in the cards. It hurt too much when it all fell apart.
     
    Back in David’s paid-for hotel room, Shane was doing much the same thing but with a lot more vigour. He was lying gasping on his back on top of a large bath towel spread on the Matelasse bedspread, the warm air from the open window caressing his naked skin, as he rode his dick with strong, sharp bursts of speed, the image of a naked Matthew Langer bending over in front of him, his tight backside inviting and ready to be fucked foremost in his mind.
    “Christ al-fucking-mighty,” he moaned as all the muscles in his legs and backside tensed. Digging in his heels, his body lifted an inch from the bed as he climaxed, long jets of white fluid streaming over his hand and stomach, which clenched in pleasure at the sensations in his groin. He landed back on the bed, panting as he let his dick go, and his body relaxed on the bed. His chest was heaving with the exertion. He stared up at the ceiling in disbelief.
    Hell, how had this man managed to do this to him?
    Shane prided himself on his self-control, but tonight he just hadn’t been able to last more than five minutes.
    He’d gone to the reception desk, picked up Bushwhacker and just made it into his hotel room before taking another pee, ripping his clothes off and falling naked onto the bed. He had, however, had the foresight to rip a towel off the rail to protect the bedspread. He didn’t think it fair that the housekeepers had to deal with his jissom all over their expensive duvet. Then he’d let rip and five minutes later he’d erupted like Old Faithful. Shane felt better. He needed a shower before