His First Surrender (Stonewall Investigations Miami 3)

I drove up the cobblestone driveway, parking my car next to the stone fountain of a jumping dolphin, its long snout appearing to be turned into a grin. The previous owner had said a witch doctor gifted him that fountain and promised a lifetime’s worth of good luck to anyone who lived in the house. When I asked if he thought that was true, he answered, “Well, my wife left me for my best friend, and my two kids both hate me for reasons I’ve yet to figure out—oh, and I broke three bones in the span of two weeks, all while I was home. So no. I don’t. But it’s a nice fucking fountain, though, ain’t it?”

It was a pretty nice fucking fountain.

The Tesla’s locks clicked on automatically as I walked away. A toad, its bumpy back turned to me, sat on the path leading to my door. The little guy must have sensed me coming and hopped off into the bushes as I approached, the leaves rustling loudly as it moved its bulbous body through the foliage.

As I walked inside my house, the lights all came on automatically, flooding the large entrance in light. I stretched, hooking my keys up on the hook next to the large double doors. I kicked off my shoes and unzipped my pants, pretty much my ritual whenever coming back home. As I walked through my foyer and the living room, I started to kick off the pants. When they were by my ankles, I stopped and finished pulling them off. I folded them up and placed them on the washer as I walked past the laundry room.

In my kitchen, I went for a beer, grabbing one of the Coronas and popping it open. I leaned against the island, the marble cold against the back of my thighs. The beer was welcome, although I found myself wishing I’d brought Sam back to enjoy a beer with. The night had gone very well, even with how fucked up it had all started as. The image of Sam being beaten up flashed across my mind, making me see a lightning bolt of red. I took a big chug of the beer, focusing in on Sam. On the time we spent after I had found him. His smile never seemed to waver, even though I was sure he had to have been in some kind of pain. He had a way about him that got me going, in all kinds of different ways. I wanted to learn more about him while simultaneously cracking myself open for him. Something I hadn’t done for anyone in as long as I could remember.

Sam had me feeling brighter than bright.

He also had me picturing him in ways I hadn’t seen yet. Picturing him with that smile of his, slowly falling to his knees in front of me, his chin tilted up so his eyes could lock with mine as he leaned in and kissed my cock, from balls to tip. I pictured him stroking me, using both hands to bring me pleasure, his permanent smile still on but tilted more toward a devilish grin.

The daydreams had me rock hard. I rubbed myself, almost absentmindedly, the fantasies of Sam Clark transporting me somewhere else.

I knew there was work to be done, but I had to take care of the rising pressure inside my balls first before I completely lost my goddamn mind.

Fuck it. I need to jerk off.

I set the beer bottle down on the countertop and walked back into the hallway and into my living room. I took off my shirt and tossed it onto the white leather couch. My nipples were hard to the touch. I pinched one between my fingers, letting out a deep breath, rolling it, barely able to even wait until I got upstairs. Sam had me so fucking worked up. I could have blown my load right there on the couch.

My erection strained against my briefs. I dropped those, too. I stood naked, hard cock jutting out and pulsing lightly in the air. I gave myself a couple of strokes, but I needed more. My body wouldn’t be satiated tonight with just my hand. Not when Sam still swam through my mind, lighting up a bonfire at the base of my spine. And he looked so fucking good too, with his new haircut and that permanent smile of his. A smile I wanted to see wrapped around the base of my dick.

I left my clothes in a pile on my living room floor. I walked through my house, cock swinging back and forth, and went up the curving staircase, taking two at a time, my balls slapping against my thighs with the momentum. The lights automatically turned on as I walked across the dark hardwood floor, still wearing my long black socks.