Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (129 page)

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 787

”
Ahora, cielito, ahora… Elías, coño…
” Mateo groaned, eyes

squeezing shut and face ruddy with exertion.

No sooner had Mateo let out a shout of completion, Elias’s own

orgasm rocketed through him, ripping a cry and arching him high off

the ground as his cock twitched and jerked in his hand, spilling onto

his chest and stomach.

Long moments passed and neither moved, neither spoke, too busy

trying to remember how to draw a breath and how to make their limbs

work. Mateo gathered himself first and Elias let out a soft sound of

loss as his lover eased out of him. He heard the snap as Mateo tugged

off the condom and then the other man’s arms were around him,

pulling him close.

And just like that any worries that might have tried to slink back

in, worries that Mateo would leave, things would be awkward, that

he’d gotten what he was after and now would be gone…those worries

didn’t have anything to hold onto and slipped away, harmless. Elias

smiled and turned into Mateo’s strong arms, breathing hard still, the

other man’s scent mixing with the scent of sex and flowers. Whatever

was going to happen now, Elias didn’t worry about. For once in his

life, he just relaxed and let himself breathe. He didn’t need pretty

words and romantic promises, not right now. Not from Mateo.

And when Mateo reached up and plucked a small sunflower out of

the display, resting it against Elias’s cheek briefly and giving him the

most beautiful smile…Elias realized Mateo didn’t need words to make

promises. And when Elias smiled back at him and reached up to take

the offered flower, he knew Mateo understood exactly what he was

saying.

THE END

Author bio:
Fae Sutherland has always dreamed of being a

published author, starting her writing career off at age 11 with a

series of stories so bad only a 6th grader could have written them. She

has since progressed to more serious writing, though always keeping

that dash of irreverence and fun (and a hell of a lot more heat!).

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Fae prefers writing with her co-author Marguerite Labbe best.

Between them they are the award-winning authors of over 19

published novels, novellas and short stories (both jointly written and

solo) and continue to have more ideas than they can ever possibly

write.

When Fae’s not working on new stories to make her readers

sweat, she spends her time on website design, spending too much time

on Twitter, and watching oodles of Food Network with her beloved

life partner. If there’s any time left over, it’s spent snuggling the cat.

You can read more about Fae and upcoming books and releases

at her website, Chasing dreams:http://chasethedream.net, follow her

on Twitter:
http://twitter.com/#!/faesutherland,
watch her play
annoying Facebook games:
http://www.facebook.com/faesutherland

and

occasionally

get

random

posts

on

her

blog:

http://iniquityden.blogspot.com/!
Oh, and of course, right here on
Goodreads
: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/132…

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 789

Anne Tenino – WHITETAIL ROCK (Cops/Inter-Racial)

Genre:
contemporary

Tags:
cops; inter-racial; HFN; dirty talk;

Dear Author,

college

Those boots are hot, right?

Words:
26,429

The veiny arms too. I bet he

gets really sweaty riding

WHITETAIL ROCK

that bike all day.

mmmmhmmmm You can’t

by Anne Tenino

see it in the pic, but I bet his

it.

“Those are some pretty, pretty muscles.”

I would love a story about

Sam sighed and leaned back in his chair, arms

this cop. I think he’s a bit

clasped behind his head. As if they were at the

demanding, some might call

beach.

him an asshole. You can

give me an HEA, but don’t

Nik looked up from his book.
Oh, hell yeah.

make my cop too nice.

“Mmmmm-hmmmmm. Suppose he’s got a brain

[PHOTO: From the toe of

to match?” Brains were sexy.

his polished boot to the dark

glasses hiding his eyes, we

“Gawd, I hope not. Way to ruin a good

are looking up at one very

work of art.” Sam fanned himself with the

hot cop. He straddles his

magazine he’d been dozing under. Even sitting

motorcycle, wearing snug

blue uniform pants, a gun

in the shade, the heat was almost too much. The

holster on his belt and black

sky was clear and blue, with the requisite

leather gloves. He’s

August blazing sun. Insects droning, air

shirtless, and the cut of his

muscles makes this a very

stagnant, drying grass being all golden and

good thing.]

reflecting the light. Thank god it rarely got

Sincerely,

muggy here or it’d be even worse. Two more

weeks and the next term would start and they

Deanna

could move back to civilization. Just one more

year of grad school, then he, too, could be

unemployed and overeducated.

The cop sitting on the motorcycle was

pretty fucking hot, there was no way around

that. Nik didn’t think they probably hired stupid

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 790

guys to be cops, though. Especially not State Highway Patrol.

The cop swung a leg off his bike and stood up. Sam sucked in a

breath and Nik made a little, high-pitched, semi-conscious noise.

Those pants were
tight.
They showed
everything
Officer Eye Candy

was packing. He busied himself around the bike, doing whatever it is

that motorcycle cops do when they stop at a small-town corner store

for whatever it was they stopped for. It was 2pm, way past donut time.

That ass didn’t look to be packing any spare donuts. It was packing

dimples, though. Dimpled ass cheeks made such great handholds.

Nik’s fingers twitched.

Really, though, he wasn’t Nik’s type. He was tall and butch and

blond and very much everything needed to remind Nik why he’d hated

growing up in this predominantly white, hick town in the American

west. He was okay with admitting this guy pushed all his buttons.

Nothing to do but push buttons in return. Not that it would be hard

to do given the motivation. Wouldn’t hurt to let himself enjoy the

man-candy.

The cop finally finished whatever it was he was doing, making all

those precise, efficient, military-esque movements and turned toward

them. He’d taken off his uniform jacket and stowed it somewhere. Had

to be too much in this heat.

He had that sort of swagger most cops seemed to, but with a

hypnotic, loose-hipped twist. Like he had a well-lubricated and very,

very agile pelvis.

“Drool check,” Sam whispered.

It wasn’t until Officer Eye Candy was standing right in front of

them, on the shadowed porch of the Whitetail Rock General Store that

Nik realized he was still staring.

“You boys enjoying the show?” The cop said it just like that; a

good-ol’-boy-meets-furriners, walking, talking stereo-type.

Hmmmm, flirting or baiting the gays?

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Didn’t matter. Men this hot shouldn’t speak. It completely ruined

the fantasy. Nik looked up. Slowly. He knew once he got to the eyes,

he’d have to stop enjoying the show, and he really, really wanted it to

last. An Indian gay boy in the middle of Nowhere, USA had to take

his eye-fucks where he could find them.

Best. Eye-fuck. Ever.

The chest was kind of a disappointment. He was wearing

something padded. A bullet-proof vest? Nik didn’t dwell on why the

thought of the cop
needing
a bullet-proof vest was kind of hot. But the

arms. Works of art. Corded muscle, ropy veins, long-fingered, defined

hands. Perfect, tanned skin. Light sheen of sweat.
Ungh.

Nik’s eyes stuttered on the notch of the cop’s neck, then trailed up.

Square jaw, ticking jaw muscle, high cheekbones. Even the mirrored

sunglasses were sexy. The blond hair was the perfect finishing touch,

even with helmet-do. Officer Eye Candy was walking, talking sex. In

a very ‘me Aryan, you inferior’ kinda way.

Mmmmmm. Police brutality.
Nik was fair-minded enough to admit

he wanted to have an intimate relationship with Officer Eye Candy’s

nightstick. The one in his pants, not the one he was wearing on that

belt.

Right. Button-pushing.
Focus on the mission.

Finally, Nik looked into the cop’s eyes. Sunglasses.
I bet they’re

blue.
He smiled brilliantly. “I don’t suppose you’re actually my

birthday present and you’re here to take your clothes off? I’ll pay extra

for a lap dance.”

The cop clenched his jaw. More. “When’s your birthday?”

“February third.”

“Then, no. Suppose I’m not.” His sunglasses stared down at Nik.

Nik stared up at him, still smiling. Sam shifted and cleared his throat.

Nik smiled even brighter. He was enjoying himself, with malice.

He could see a muscle twitch in the cop’s cheek, now. Nik knew he

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was overdoing it on the flirty and the gay, but it was so much fun to

mess with the macho ones.

“What’s your name?” The cop tried to make it sound officious, but

his voice had gone low, so it just sounded like the prelude to ‘wanna

fuck?’

Oh.
Maybe Officer Eye Candy didn’t walk the straight and narrow,

himself.

“Nikhil Larson. People call me Nik. What’s your name, Officer?”

The word “officer” just begged to be purred, didn’t it?

“Trooper,” the cop corrected automatically. “Trooper Jurgen

Dammerung. You flirt this much with the locals?”

“No. I don’t wanna be a soprano.” Nik looked down momentarily,

knowing his smile dimmed. He tried to make up for the break in

character with some eyelash fluttery. “That’s a very… German name.”

“Mm.” Trooper Dammerung nodded once, more of a chin tilt. He

watched Nik some more. Nik watched him.

Nik’s Mom stepped out onto the porch. “Oh, hey, Jurgen. Thought

that was your bike. You meet my son?” Nik could hear the smile in

her voice. Trooper Dammerung was clearly a regular customer.

“Yeah.” Jurgen looked at her, then back at Nik, then at Jenny

again. Ah, yes. The old ‘wait, he’s brown but his Mom’s white!’

reaction.

“I’m adopted,” Nik said, his smile becoming cynical. “From India.

I was two.”

Jurgen glanced at Jenny again. Nik could almost feel the look she

was giving him, then she ruffled a hand through Nik’s hair. Nik