He pulled through the gates at his home and Bruce followed. Lindsey waved a hand for Bruce to park in the guest area off the circular drive while he drove on to the garage. Even for sex, he wouldn’t leave his baby out all night.
He parked, walked in through the house to the front door, and opened it for Bruce.
Bruce still wrapped his coat tightly. “Wow. What a great place.”
“I’ve been to your house once. It’s very lovely as well.” If a touch stuffy.
Bruce stared up at the contemporary paintings in the entry. “Not like this.”
“Come on up. I have some champagne, if that suits?”
“Down to the ground, as they say.”
Bruce followed Lindsey up the grand staircase to his suite of rooms. Bruce whispered, “Your parents don’t mind that I’m here?”
“What? Oh no, dear, I’m twenty-four. They like me to live at home, but the key word is live. They’re quite happy for me to have a life.”
Bruce frowned. “Wish I could say the same.”
Lindsey opened the door and directed Bruce into the sitting room/bedroom combination. “You suggested that you’re leaving the nest soon.”
“Yes, I’m looking for a place.”
“Good. Then you’ll feel more at ease.”
Bruce stood in the middle of the room and turned. “Wow. This is beautiful.”
“Not too feminine for your taste?”
He grinned. “I probably wouldn’t pick it for me, but it suits you.”
The maids had already pulled the drapes over the two-story, floor-to-ceiling windows. Good. “I’ll get us drinks as promised.” Lindsey walked into the butler’s pantry off the sitting room, pulled out a bottle of champagne, and popped the cork.
Bruce’s voice came from the other room. “I don’t mind having drinks—too.” He laughed. “Mind if I explore?”
“No, go right ahead.” Good thing he’d hidden his wig and dress. He pulled down two flutes and filled each with champagne, then carried them back to the sitting room just as Bruce yelled, “Holy crap, is this your closet?” He came out through the closet door.
Lindsey chuckled and handed him the champagne. “What else would it be?”
“New York Fashion Week?”
“I do enjoy my styles, darling.” He sipped.
“I better up my fashion game.”
“No need. I drive only myself to sartorial splendor.”
“Well, you do succeed.”
“Come sit.” He walked to the long, comfortable couch in front of the fireplace. He cozied into the corner and Bruce sat beside him. Lindsey clinked their glasses. “To—”
“Us.”
“Yes.” He smiled. Sadly, “us” was an underused word in his vocabulary.
Bruce leaned on Lindsey’s shoulder and sipped champagne. “So, uh, do you have supplies?”
“My, my, we are eager.”
He shrugged and grinned. “Yeah. Sorry, don’t mean to be pushy or rush the romance.”
Lindsey took the glass from Bruce’s hand and set both flutes on the coffee table. “Darling, you can’t be too pushy for me.”
He grabbed Bruce’s face in his hand and closed his mouth over the man’s slim lips. Bruce tasted like cranberry, alcohol, and some kind of breath mint. Good that he wanted to hurry. How long until Lindsey could bury his cock? He pushed his tongue in farther and did a strong fucking motion with it.
Bruce yanked his head back, gazed into Lindsey’s eyes, and gave out a long, slow moan. “Let’s fuck.”
“Good by me. The bed’s right there.” He pointed to the other side of the huge room, where his king-size sat in an alcove that could be closed or open. Now it was open, with white sheets glistening and the bedspread folded on a bench at the foot.
Bruce jumped up with his erection tenting his suit trousers. He sprang across the floor, tossing his suit coat on a chair as he went. Lindsey did appreciate enthusiasm.
The guy had his shoes, shirt, and pants off by the time Lindsey got to the bed. Not a bad body at all. He smiled. “Crew?”
“Yeah. Can you tell?”
“Very nice shoulders and back.”
Bruce preened a little. “Thank you.”
Lindsey removed his jacket, slowly untied his ascot and dropped it with a flourish on the chair, then unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. Drool, human.
“Wow. Polo sure agrees with you. How the hell did you get that six-pack?”
“Karate.”
His eyes widened. “I guess I better be careful.”
“Never fear, darling.” He made short work of his socks and shoes, unfastened his belt and pulled down the zipper on his trousers, then dropped them to the floor. With one thumb, he hooked his lavender boxer briefs and pulled them just enough for Bruce to see the tip of his cock. “I only attack upon request.”
Werewolves had big cocks. Fact of life. No matter how slim Lindsey stayed, his cock occupied more room than his size suggested. A lot more.
Bruce’s eyes had made it to saucer proportions. “Jesus.”
Lindsey nodded. “Yes, and I hate to tell you dear, but I like to top.”
Bruce swallowed hard. “That’s okay. I’m a bit of a size queen. If you’ve got lots of lube, that is?”
Lindsey waggled his cock as he stepped out of the pants and briefs pooled around his feet. He walked to the bedside table, opened the drawer, and removed a bottle of lube. “Large economy size.”
It took some fingerfucking to get Bruce ready, but finally Lindsey had the man on all fours and his cock poised. The condom was just for show, but show it was. Extra large. “You ready?”
“Hell yes.”
Lindsey pushed.
“Ow.”
“Breathe out, darling.”
Bruce did, and the big cock slipped past the ring of muscle. Okay, it felt good. Good enough to make him come. Not good enough to make him freak.
“Oh man, baby, that is so good. Wow, you are huge. Fuck me. Fuck me.”
Lindsey did, pumping like crazy. It didn’t matter where his cock was. It felt good. Not like it would if he was inside that guy from the parking lot. Holy God, what would that be like? Hot, boiling. That guy would bite and spit if Lindsey tried to shove his cock in him. Yeah, he’d have to hold him down and fuck his brains out before he gave in. Lindsey’s chest rumbled and his hips hammered and hammered.
Bruce pushed back but looked over his shoulder at Lindsey. “What did you say?”
Damn, take a deep breath. “Nothing. I just hum when I’m happy.”
He laughed. “Sounded like a growl, you sexy beast. Fuck me, Lindsey. Fuck me!”
Lindsey pounded like a jackhammer, reached around to crank the man’s cock, and forced himself not to think of gorgeous animals in black leather and tight denim.
Chapter Two
Lindsey pulled in to the dirt lot at the Way Station. It was early—for a werewolf, anyway. He didn’t need a lot of sleep, partly due to his wolfy genes and mostly due to his type A drive to try every damned thing there was. The orgasm had been good—satisfactory—and he sent Bruce off with a kiss and pat on his butt. Then he’d changed the sheets and tried to sleep. No luck. Mysterious eyes surrounded by curly hair kept creeping into his mind. Distraction required. He’d pulled on some jeans and a sweater and headed for the unofficial werewolf bar. Maybe he’d catch Cole.