Page 122 of Where There's Smoke

The room Anthony had indicated, though, had two vacant spaces. A faint, warm glow behind the thick curtains was the only indication anyone was in room nine, but just to be sure, I double-checked the room number. Nosed up to the railroad tie in front of that room, beside the empty space where I’d have expected to see Anthony’s car, and checked the number again before I put the car in park. Again after I’d gotten out of the car. One last time as I stood in front of the door.

Then I tapped on the door.

A second later, it opened, and after I’d stepped inside and closed it behind me, we didn’t bother with small talk or even athank God you’re here. I grabbed onto him and found only skin. No shirt. His kiss was deep and desperate, but there was something else. Something I’d heard in his voice over the phone and couldn’t quite define, something that unsettled me.

I pulled back, and my heart jumped into my throat.

Anthony’s shoulders were bunched with tension, like he was on the verge of shivering to ward off a phantom chill. He was a difficult man to read, but he looked like he couldn’t even figure out what was on his mind. Was he angry? Confused? Lost? Ready to hurt someone, ready to break down?

I touched his face, and he jumped.

“Jesus, Anthony,” I said. “Are you all right?”

He swallowed hard and nodded, then pulled me closer to him. “I’m fine. I don’t…” He paused and touched his forehead to mine. “I can’t explain it. I just, I needed to see you.”

I moistened my lips. “Well, I’m here.”

“Thank God,” he breathed and pulled me into his arms again. A low growl emerged from the back of his throat as he pushed me up against the door and claimed a deep, breathless kiss. He wasn’t just horny, that much was apparent. His fingers shook as they ran through my hair, and he kissed me with a foundation-rattling franticness that went beyond lust and desperation. He tasted like smoke, recent smoke, and I had visions of him shaking and swearing and chain-smoking on the way here and while he waited.

I drew back again, panting as I looked in his eyes. “What’s gotten into you tonight?”

Anthony closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. Then he shook his head. Meeting my eyes, he said, “I don’t want to think about it right now.” And with that, he cupped my face in both hands and kissed me again, and whatever was on his mind, I didn’t want to think about it either. Not until we put out this fire that threatened to bring the whole motel down around us.

From the unmistakable, if indefinable, hunger in his eyes, I expected him to be rougher than usual. I thought he’d be tearing clothes and leaving marks, but he was gentle. Slow, tender, almost cautious. Every button was safe from being torn off, every seam safe from ripping, and each piece of clothing landed as softly on the floor as my back landed on the bed and Anthony’s lips landed on my skin.

He kissed his way down my chest, and my abs contracted in anticipation of his soft, warm lips. Between kisses, he released hot, ragged breaths across my flesh, and he took his time in spite of the quiet desperation that reverberated through his every touch and motion.

His lips lingered on my hip for a moment, just long enough to drive me out of my mind, and then he went down on me. He held himself up on one arm and stroked my cock with his other hand. His talented lips and tongue followed his hand up and down, up and down, up and down, and I propped myself up on my elbows so I could watch him. His shoulders quivered, tensed, and relaxed with every motion, his forearm rippling in time with his strokes, and oh God, his dark eyes flicked up to meet mine for a fleeting second before he swallowed my cock to the hilt.

I let myself sink back to the bed and closed my eyes. Desperate just to touch him, for one more point of intense contact, I ran my fingers through his hair, and he groaned against my skin.

There was no need to stay quiet out here, away from anyone who knew us or knew why this shouldn’t be happening, but I was still afraid to make a sound. Like someone might be right outside listening for that damning moan, or they might have their ear pressed to the wall from the next room to hear me call out Anthony’s name.

Anthony stopped, and I whimpered in protest.

“Don’t stop, Anthony,” I said as he moved over me. “God, don’t—”

“Get on your hands and knees,” he whispered, letting his lips graze mine as he spoke.

I had no idea how I intended to hold myself up, but I nodded anyway. As I changed position, the sound of tearing foil made me shiver. Then the lube bottle clicked. I closed my eyes, holding my breath and shaking with anticipation. Without the sound of my own breathing, his was more apparent, and I realized he was out of breath. Panting, swearing, breathing hard, breathing fast.

“You all right?” I asked.

“Definitely.” He knelt behind me, and his hand warmed my hip. As his weight shifted over me, more skin heating my back, he whispered, “I just want you so bad I can’t see straight.” He kissed between my shoulders. Then a little higher. Still higher, working his way up to the base of my neck. His weight shifted again, and a second later, a cool, slick fingertip teased my entrance. I chewed my lip, resisting the urge to beg him to just fuck me. Much as I loved the things he did with his fingers, I wanted his cock, and I wanted it right now.

He must have heard my thoughts, or he was thinking along the same lines, because he only teased me for a moment before withdrawing his fingers. Groaning softly, he pressed his cock against me, and as he pushed in, my arms damn near collapsed under me. I had long ago gotten used to this sensation, and I took him easily, but my eyes still watered and even from that first stroke, I was both sure I could—needed to—handle this and certain I’d fall apart before he took another. It was the start of the rising tension, the escalating intensity that would ultimately lead to the release I so badly craved. That rising tension was like a release in and of itself, the promise of perfect, complete relief.

He fucked me slowly, gently, sliding all the way inside me before withdrawing almost completely. My arms and shoulders shook as I struggled to hold myself up. I was so fucking turned on, aroused out of my goddamned mind, and the more he moved, the less I could keep myself from collapsing to the bed.

With his body weight, Anthony guided me down onto my stomach. He slid his arms under my chest and hooked his hands over my shoulders. With every stroke—every slow, smooth stroke—his chest brushed my back and his hot breath whispered across the side of my neck.

I thought he’d lose control and fuck me hard enough to knock incriminating groans out of the bed frame and me, but he didn’t. The bed stayed quiet, and the sheer intensity of his cock inside me rendered me completely mute.

His strokes stayed slow, so deliciously, agonizingly slow. He moved easily, fluidly, taking long strokes that each seemed to last all night. Uneven breaths rushed past my ear and whispered across my neck, and if not for his silence and slowness, I’d have been sure he was on the verge of losing control. And maybe he was, but his movements were smooth and even, and his ragged breaths stayed quiet. He was in control. Somehow he was in complete control, just as Anthony always was, even when his whole body shook and his rhythm tried to fall apart. Even if he’d hinted over the phone about cracks in the foundation, like his grasp on his usual control was alarmingly tenuous, he had it together now.

And whatever control I might have had was long gone. I hadjustenough left to keep myself from crying out as he fucked me to a blinding orgasm, and the world fell to pieces, and I fell to pieces, and Anthony didn’t stop.

“Oh God,” he breathed. “Jesse…” His voice dropped to a breathless, shuddering moan, and his whole body trembled as he forced himself as deep inside me as he could get. Whimpering softly, he buried his face against the side of my neck to stifle the helpless groan as he came.

---