Page 1 of Getting It Twisted

Chapter 1

Nathan

I’ve had sex withmen who hated me. Or rather, men who hated their attraction to me.

I’ve had sex with men who craved more from me than I could give them.

This one falls somewhere in between: a six-foot-tall “straight” guy I picked up outside a bar, jacked up like a quarterback, who speaks in grunts and kisses me with a desperate fervor as he pushes me up against the motel room wall.

He’s a good kisser, and he takes my hand and presses it to the bulge in his jeans. Fine. This is easy. He’ll give me what I want, and then I’ll be on my way.

Before long, I have him on the bed with his thighs spread wide. I kneel in front of him and unbuckle his jeans, and my mouth is inches from his cock when my phone rings.

“Hold on.” I slick my palm with spit and stroke him while I fetch my phone with my free hand. I’m not sure why I answer the call; I suppose part of me wants to fuck with the dude in more ways than one.

I’m silent during most of the conversation, replying yes and no and “I understand” where appropriate while I keep stroking the dude’s cock.

His gaze is fiery on mine, brows knitted, jaw worked tight. He looks furious, but I’ve seen that look before; he’s just impatient and horny.

When the call’s done, I feel cold, and my vision blurs. I figure it’s the booze, or the lack of a proper dinner. Whatever.

“What was that about?” the dude asks.

I chuck the phone away and take him into my mouth to shut him up. Big-cocked motherfucker as he is, I have to fight to do it: stretch my jaw real wide and relax my throat to take him all the way inside. He groans and grabs onto my hair. I start sucking him proper, but it’s like something’s itching at the back of my skull, and it’s not his hand. It’s different, it’s—

I pull back. The grip on my hair tightens.

“Hey,” says the dude. His fingers tangle into my locks and stroke my scalp, almost gently. “What was that call about?”

“None of your business.”

“Itismy business, if it’s got you all upset.”

“Who’s upset?” I snap. “Look, you want your dick sucked or not?”

He raises an eyebrow at me, likely more for my tone than my words. “You’re not so sweet now, are you?”

“Never said I was sweet.” I try to get off the bed, but the dude grabs my arm.

“Is sex off the table now?” He looks disappointed, though it’s not a puppy-eyed disappointment; he’s . . . annoyed. I can work with that.

“No. Take off your shirt.”

The dude smiles. “Bossy. I like it.”

He wrestles out of his tight shirt and helps me with my own, then my belt. I feel his gaze on me as I fish a packet of lube and a condom out of my pocket.

“Damn.” His hand runs up my waist, thumb sliding over a nipple. “You’re beautiful.” His other hand unzips my fly, and now I’m at least halfway hard again—good.

I lie on my back and yank my jeans off. I hand him the condom while I tear open the lube packet with my teeth and get my fingers to my hole. All the while, he watches me. His enraptured gaze slides across my face, my body, down to where I’m hard and wanting and working myself open with lube-slick fingers.

I muster up a smirk. “Enjoying the view?”

His rough hands stroke my thighs, pushing them apart to spread me wide. “You never told me your name.”

“Will knowing my name help you fuck me better?”

He scoffs, the spell broken, and positions himself between my legs. “You ready?”

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