Page 10 of The Associate

“Thanks.”

Conor crooked his neck toward the door. “I’d say that’s worth a celebratory drink. I’ll buy the next round.”

Tempted by Conor’s generosity, Gio gave a slow shake of his head. He swallowed dry at the moment, but craved something different to quench his thirst. “Back in the day,” he said, “this used to be a pretty raunchy place.”

They paused at the door. Neither moved to open it. Gio rounded on Conor, blocking him.

“You’d go to the men’s room, but not to piss, if you know what I mean.”

Conor ticked up one side of his mouth in a coy smile. “I’m familiar with how it works, Gio. I’ve seen movies, though I’ve yet to scout a gay bar for one.” When Gio laughed, he added, “Are you suggesting we check out the loo?”

“Loo.” He liked the funny foreign slang words. “How do you getloofromlavatory, orwater closet, or whatever the fuck you call the can?”

“It’s derived from the French word for water. Don’t ask me how I know that.”

Gio supposed a film locations manager picked up on strange details while on the job. French wasn’t one of the languages he studied for his collections work, either. “Too bad it ain’t trivia night, not that I’d want to hang around for it,” he said. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to come out to my car, so I can show you what they used to do in theloohere.”

“Lead the way.” Conor squared his shoulders and smiled at him. The warmth radiating from him hit Gio right between the eyes.

Why the hell not?

Conor wasn’t in a serious relationship, and he wasn’t able to provide his father any succor beyond a mournful bedside vigil. Hugh didn’t want that, though he might want to hear if Conor got lucky.

It would sound crass to another person’s ears, but it made sense to a son of a bartender. Hugh Malloy had loved life and passed those yearnings down to his son. Joe was a hard-working man out for a good time, and fit Conor’s profile of an ideal fuck. As much as he hurt these past few days, he couldn’t ignore the natural urge to get off with some assistance.

Hooking his forefinger around a back belt loop on Joe’s pants, he followed while Joe threaded through the main bar to the front entrance. Dance music enveloped them, and bodies swayed in their personal space either by accident or invitation. The tang of sweat and pheromones hung heavy in the air, heightening Conor’s anticipation for a good old-fashioned tumble in the back seat. He’d never gotten to experience it as a teen, so better late than never.

Joe owned a nice car. Warehouse foremen lived rather well, Conor surmised. He appreciated the roomy backseat, more so when Joe slid in after him and lunged forward to position them across the leather-upholstered bench. “Yeah, much better,” Joe said, his voice low and husky. “Been thinking about this since I first saw you.”

A sloppy kiss silenced Conor’s retort, and they delved into one another with feral speed. Pecs, waist, small of the back, ass, backs of thighs… Conor slid his palms down and around Joe’s hard body, eager to explore every inch of him. He appreciated how Joe mimicked his touches, and upped the ante by tugging away hems and digging fingers under barriers for skin-on-skin contact. They tangled limbs and pressed their torsos together, each gauging the other’s arousal through the layers. When Conor broke off the kiss, he mouthed a wet path down Joe’s throat and brushed his lips over the man’s T-shirt, teasing the hardened nipple denting the fabric.

Joe grunted his approval. Erogenous zone found, achievement unlocked. Conor reached for the hem to push upward. “You like having ’em sucked?” he asked before pursing his lips around the pebbled skin.

“Fuck, yeah.” Joe bucked under him, and Conor held fast. He worried Joe’s nipple between his teeth and swiped his tongue from side to side. Joe was practically hairless up top, a few chest hairs between his pecs. All the better to taste.

“You know what I like even more?” Joe answered his own question by grabbing Conor’s hand and cupping it to his cock.

“I hear you.” Wet smacking noises from Conor’s slow trail to Joe’s groin filled the tight space. Fogged windows hid their fevered kisses and touches. Good thing, too, since Conor had to bend into an awkward triangle with his ass upward. Joe adjusted himself to make it easier on them, and was hard as a rock when Conor freed his cock from his tight jeans and briefs. He wasted no time in sucking down the man’s length, and kept his breathing steady to stay relaxed.

Joe threaded his fingers through Conor’s hair. “Look at you, with those sweet lips around my cock,” he said, sounding breathless. “Go slower, I wanna see myself disappear down your throat.”

Conor released him with a loud pant, but licked him root to tip instead. He circled his tongue around Joe’s cockhead, teasing him.

“Fuck.” Joe’s body quaked with his quiet laughter. He grasped a handful of Conor’s hair. “You’re my first ginger, you know that?”

“Am I now?” Conor slurped hard and batted Joe’s cock against his slick mouth. “I hope I’m the standard by which the next gingers will be judged.”

“Maybe, but I’m thinking I ought to know your full name before I come inside you.”

Conor stilled, giving it some thought. Joe had gone to school at the same time as him, so he had to know the neighborhood well enough to recognize the Malloy name. He had enough concerns, and intended for Joe to be an image held in his rearview come the time to return to Dublin. A pleasant one, of course.

He smiled, keeping one hand on Joe’s cock while extending the other. “Conor Jacob, pleased to meet you.”

Chapter Four

Conor Jacob.

He liked that name. Easy to remember. Short, direct, masculine, a name some movie studio would give to an up-and-coming action star. Conor, being in the biz, would know all about that.

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