Landon's Desire (Book Three of The Pulse Series 3) (3 page)

“Oh…” Landon sighed. The fight was leaving him as pleasure started a slow tingle along his spine. It had been so long since anyone had paid him that kind of attention, Tristan was his last fling, and it felt good, he was caving fast.

“So responsive for a man who protests,” Michael said, as he stroked over Landon’s erection. “Need I worry?”

“What?” Landon asked, confused between the accent and the meaning behind the question.

“I was guaranteed you are in good health, nothing for me to worry about?”

“No,” Landon snarled, while Michael’s hands quickly opened his slacks and yanked them to his knees.

“You’re a big boy.” Michael grinned licking his lips at the sight of a semi-erect Landon. “And you have a ways to go, let’s see what we can do about that.” Michael stroked him a few times, and then licked his greedy tongue up his length and through his wet slit at the tip of his bulbous head.

“Fuuuuck,” Landon called out.

“Shhh…we don’t want company, be nice and quiet,” Michael warned, sucking the head of his cock past his shielded lips.

“Fuck…this is wrong,” Landon said. “This shouldn’t be happening.”

A picture of Carl’s scowling face watching him as another man sucked him off, flashed in his mind. His head fell back, his eyes closed and he wove his fingers into Michael’s dense black curls, holding his head immobile as he fucked Michael’s mouth.

Michael had a very talented mouth. His muscular tongue rippled on each back stroke and each time the head of Landon’s cock made contact with the back of his throat he swallowed, the muscles contracting in his throat sending tremors up and down Landon’s legs, making it difficult to stand.

“Fuck yeah…take it all,” Landon moaned, as his fingers dug into Michael’s scalp and he rode his mouth hard.

“Yeah, suck it Carl…suck me harder, make me cum,” Landon pleaded.

Michael grasped the back of his thighs and took him deep into his throat and swallowed, the sensation was incredible.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Landon warned.

Michael sucked him with passion as Landon blew his load into the back of his throat and he consumed his seed eagerly.

“Carl,” Landon whispered, on an exhaled breath, as he tried to regain some composure.

“I don’t mind it a little rough, but ease up on the
Carl
thing, my ego bruises easily.” Michael laughed. “Into the washroom…I’m going to fuck you so hard.”

Landon had never imagined fear at the thought of having sex, until now, the panic he was feeling was laughable. A hot layer of sweat shadowed his forehead and his chest tightened as he envisioned having this strange man inside him. He was trying to come up with a way to change this man’s mind, just as Michael patted his pants pockets and growled.

“Condom, tell me you have a fucking condom,” Michael asked.

“I don’t,” Landon said, relieved.

“Are you opposed to going it bare back?” Michael asked, opening his fly and pulling out his cock, stroking it with a smile.

Landon’s eyes widened. “Very opposed, there’s no fucking way I let you screw
my
ass without a condom, no fucking way!” Landon stood ready to pop him one, if he so much as laid a hand on him.

“A blow-job then,” Michael demanded, stroking his cock. “Next time I will come prepared.”

Next time?

Landon raised his brow and froze.

There was no way there would be a next time, this escort shit was a once and done deal. Mikala was never going to force him into doing it again. Not only was he regretting being there in the first place, he now had letting Michael suck him off to add to the growing list.

“I’ll return the favor, but just so we’re clear, I don’t swallow,” Landon warned.

The door handle rattled, followed by a loud knock. “Please hurry, I’m not at all well,” a timid female voice cried.

“Fuck,” Michael cursed, tucking himself in and zipping up his fly. “I’ll be but a moment,” he called out.

“How do we explain this,” Landon asked, as he finished pulling his look together, running his hand through his hair.

“I explain myself to no one. Fuck her if she draws the right conclusion,” Michael snapped.

The eloquently reserved Michael had been replaced with a sexually frustrated version, this version made Landon squirm in his boots. His eyes were dark and brooding, there was a violent storm stirring behind Michael’s glare. The man’s moods were multifaceted; he made no attempt to hide his colorful repertoire either. Landon wondered for a moment, as he studied his face, how the man would react when pushed to the edge.

On the limo ride home, tears ran down Landon’s cheeks as his gag reflex was put to the test, reluctantly servicing a less than gentle Michael, not at all happy with himself or the fact that Briggs threatened him to get what he wanted.

It wasn’t as if he and Carl were together, but the feeling of guilt was tearing him to bits. Landon longed to be with Carl, he went so far as to chant Carl’s name continuously while his mouth was filled by another man’s dick.

Once back at
Pulse
, Landon was happy it was crowded enough to sneak past Carl. He was busy behind the bar and didn’t seem to notice him come in.

Landon only just made it to his washroom before he threw up. His stomach heaved continually, barely allowing him time to catch his breath, until nothing more would come. There was a satisfying pain pounding in his head, serving as punishment for being unfaithful. He laughed at his asinine thoughts while rinsing his mouth continually with mouthwash. Carl didn’t even want him, could care less that he was alive, yet here he was feeling a need to be loyal.

There wasn’t enough soap on the planet to scrub away the filthy feeling of Michael’s mouth and hands from his skin. He stood under the stream of hot water until his skin turned red like a boiled lobster, and his fingers and toes resembled dried prunes. He stepped into a pair of black boxers and climbed between the sheets, reaching for the remote and flicking through the channels.

Nothing much caught his interest. He watched highlights from an auto race, Judge Judy as she tore into some poor son-of-a-bitch for not coming up with an answer fast enough and a full half hour of an especially bad Godzilla meets something or other movie.

Just about ready to chuck the remote across the room, there was a quiet knock at his door. He listened for a moment. The music from the clubs had silenced and there were no voices or laughter from the adjoining rooms. As a matter of fact, it was rather peaceful. There was another quiet knock.

“Ace, you home?”

It was Carl, Landon was miffed as to why he’d come knocking. Something had to be wrong. He jumped from his bed and swung the door open, standing in nothing but his boxers as his eyes met Carl’s.

“What’s wrong?” Landon asked.

“I was checking to see you got home okay,” Carl said, looking everywhere but directly at Landon.

“I did.”

“How was it?” Carl asked. “What time did you get in?”

Landon grinned. “Just after one mom…and it was alright.”

Carl didn’t reply, standing with his hands in his pockets, shifting nervously from foot to foot. It was one of those awkward moments when neither one knew exactly what to say, but neither wanted to be the first to break the silence.

“The food was good?” Carl blurted.

“Not really,” Landon said, rubbing his hand over his chest, noting that Carl’s eyes were following his hand and purposely ran it across his stomach and into his waistband. He cleared his throat and Carl startled.

“Good company?” Carl asked. “Get lucky did you?

The question bothered Landon when he remembered what had happened after dinner and on the ride home, a suffocating feeling of disgust and disloyalty made him feel like hurling again.

“Give me a minute,” he said, running into the washroom and landing on his knees in front of the toilet bowl. He had a severe case of dry heaves, he felt something cool at the back of his neck and found Carl standing behind him.

“A cold cloth helps me,” Carl said. “Are you going to make it?”

“This is exactly the way I want you seeing me, in nothing but my underwear with my head hanging in the toilet.”

“Don’t worry about it, you’re sick,” Carl reassured him. “Maybe it’s food poisoning.”

“No, it’s not food poisoning.” Landon took the wet cloth from his neck and wiped his face. He rose to his feet and located his toothbrush and toothpaste.

“It could be, you never know, was dinner catered?”

“It’s not fucking food poisoning!” Landon yelled, throwing his toothbrush into the sink and rinsing his mouth.

Carl had the door open with his left foot into the hallway before Landon left the washroom.

“Carl, wait,” Landon said. “I don’t mean to sound like an ungrateful prick, but I know it’s nothing to do with food, it’s something else.”

“Well, I won’t ask,” Carl snarled. “See you tomorrow I guess.”

“Carl, stay.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Landon watched Carl race along the hall to the stairs, kicking himself because it was rare for Carl to seek him out for a conversation of any kind. To have him show up at the door was a first. Carl had never questioned if he got home, especially not from a night out before. But again, Landon had never gone out on a
date
before tonight. Was he detecting a bit of the old green eyed monster in Carl? Carl wasn’t pleased with Mikala sending Landon on a date, kept making the excuse that Landon wasn’t experienced enough to be an escort. Landon had to wonder if Carl might be warming up, ever so slightly, to him.

Although the date with Michael had turned out to be a mistake he’d not soon make again, maybe something good had come from the events of the evening after all. Landon climbed back into bed, feeling much better, the nausea replaced with a sudden case of butterflies.

 

***

 

Carl hurried into his apartment, locked the door and set up the coffee machine before heading to the bedroom. He busied himself with a quick shower, threw a load of laundry in the washer and changed the sheets on the bed. If there had been anything else to do that would distract him from thoughts of Landon, he sure as hell couldn’t find it.

The scent of fresh linen and vanilla permeated his nostrils as he laid his cheek against his pillow. The clean fresh smell usually invited peaceful slumber, yet tonight his sleep was invaded with visions of Landon in his snug black boxers. As much as Carl tried to push the thought of Landon’s beautifully tanned skin, the fluffy black trail that disappeared into his boxers and the way they hung off his hips and showed his perfectly sculpted V out of his mind, the visions only became clearer.

“I’m not fucking gay,” he muttered.

His level of frustration hit an all-time high, sleep wasn’t about to come anytime soon. He climbed out of bed, slipped into comfy sweatpants and headed downstairs with his i-phone. The bar had needed a deep cleaning for a while and Carl kept putting it off. What better excuse to get it done than restless nerves and something to keep his mind occupied.

Carl plugged his i-phone into the docking station behind the bar, turned the volume loud enough to be heard with no risk of waking Landon, and hummed along with the tunes while he rummaged for cleaning supplies and got started.

It was surprising how dust accumulated in the strangest places, forming tight little dust bunnies under surfaces that could never quite be reached. With his trusty can of air and a toothbrush, he managed to make the bar gleam as he danced about and sang along with Maroon 5.

Happy, with a clear mind and a sense of accomplishment, he threw his cleaning supplies into the bucket and turned in time to catch Landon watching him at the far end of the bar.

With his one elbow resting across the bar, Landon bit into an apple suggestively, allowing the juices to trickle down his chin and licking across his lips. He smiled brightly.

“Let me guess, you couldn’t sleep?” Landon asked.

“Restless,” Carl answered, with a scowl.

“I was having trouble sleeping too,” Landon said, his eyes moving to Carl’s bare chest. “You always clean half naked?”

“I wasn’t expecting an audience.”

“I used to do the housework stark naked,” Landon laughed.

“And the reason I need to know this?” Carl asked.

Landon shrugged, “Visual effect.”

Carl narrowed his eyes as he walked past, he could feel Landon’s eyes on him as he walked into the kitchen and pulled a deep breath into his lungs to stop from heating any further.

“Carl, when are you going to admit you like me?” Landon whispered behind Carl’s back.

“I like you well enough,” Carl said, turning to face Landon, smelling the sweet scent of apple on his breath. “I just don’t like you
that
way.”

Landon tossed the partially eaten apple into the trash can and stepped into Carl’s space. “What way is that, Carl?”

Carl placed his hand on Landon’s chest, slightly fisting his t-shirt, holding him back. “I can’t say it enough Landon…I’m not interested in you in
that
way.”

Landon grinned, pretending to wipe sweat from his brow. “Progress at last.”

“What the fuck are you saying?”

“I’m saying it’s nice to hear you say something other than those worn out words
I’m not gay,
which were getting fucking old.”

“But I’m not.”

Landon’s brows rose as he dropped his chin to his chest. “How can you be so sure?”

“This conversation is over. I’m not wasting my time trying to convince you that we aren’t going to be anything more than friends.” Carl snapped, shoving Landon back.

Landon’s large hand wrapped around the nape of Carl’s neck, yanking him forward and forcing their chests to collide. Carl looked into Landon’s eyes and saw the unmistakable glare of lust, his stomach tightened. Landon’s lips gently touched his with a cautious delay. When he was happy Carl wasn’t going to deck him, he pressed his lips tighter to Carl’s and closed his eyes, making it linger for several long seconds. It was nothing too passionate or demanding, a smooth lingering kiss, enough to get a proper taste of what he was missing.

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