The Heat of Christmas: A Stonewall Investigation

“Unless you two are in it together,” Griff said. “Can that happen?” he asked Zane.

“Anything can happen in this game.”

“Ominous,” Jonah said in a raspy voice from the floor, making us all bust out laughing. Penny was the first on her feet. She helped up Triss and Jonah, and they left for the designated “slayed” room upstairs.

“All right, guess we should keep looking for more clues,” I said to Mav, my body still warm from our kitchen kiss. Sure I wanted to look for clues, but more than that, I wanted to look for a secluded room where I could rip Maverick Gold’s pants off and suck him off until he busted his nut down my throat.

And then we’d go look for clues.

“Come,” I said, grabbing Mav’s hand in mine.

It didn’t take us very long to find a set of double doors, slightly ajar with a bright streak of light down the center. We tossed them open, revealing a sunroom that could only really be described as splendid. Not a word I’d use often, but fuck, it really was.

There were tropical green ferns and dotted rattlesnake plants growing alongside potted fig trees and birds of paradise, all of them decorated with red and white ornaments. There was a long yellow daybed against the nook that had a long, wraparound window which looked out onto a private lake, the water reflecting back some of the afternoon sun, making the ornaments shine and sparkle.

It was fucking splendid.

The most beautiful part of the room, aside from the eye-catching decorations and thriving plants potted in artfully crafted and painted ceramic had to be one thing and one thing only:

The doors locked.

CHAPTER 8

Maverick Gold

The sound of the doors locking was enough to get my knees shaking. Like I was some kind of virgin waiting for their big burly caveman to come and bend him over. I’d been hard since our moment in the kitchen.

Fuck, Theo Perez was one hell of a hot motherfucker.

As he started to undress, I took a step back so I could admire him. The sunshine washing in through the glass bathed his every curve, every ripple, every rise. He unzipped his jeans and dropped them in a puddle of fabric, his heavy cock flopping out. Theo never wore underwear, a fact I had quickly come to learn about him and one that I immediately grew to love.

He undid the buttons of his shirt, one by one, watching me as his cock twitched, growing harder between his legs, engorging. I didn’t know where to look: his stiffening dick, his tan chest, his sexy lips, his burning gaze.

Fuck it. I settled on the dick.

What can I say? It was staring at me first.

I stroked myself over my pants, the outline of the head of my cock firm against my palm, precome oozing onto my thigh.

Fuck. How did I get this fucking lucky?

“Jesus, Theo, you’re so goddamn hot.”

Behind him, an entire wall of wreaths glittered and sparkled, all decorated differently to appear like an eclectic gallery wall. He looked like a Christmas miracle, standing there with tanned muscles glinting and pearly white smile widening.

That’s when he put his palm out and grabbed his cock in the other hand. He slapped his meaty dick onto his hand, the sound of it making my nerves spark.

“Come and get this, baby.” Theo’s Cuban accent grew heavier whenever we were surfing these waves of sex and need. I started toward him, but he stopped me with a look.

“Crawl to me, baby.”

I swallowed, the fire at the base of my spine exploding outward. I got down onto my hands and knees, my erection almost painfully straining against my pants. I looked up to Theo’s deep hazel eyes, half-lidded in pleasure as he slapped himself again. Like a whip cracking against my back, I started crawling, hungry for the man who stood in front of me. My hands and knees left prints in the fake snow on the ground.

Theo purred as I reached him, kissing my way up his legs, rubbing the soft hair, feeling the muscles of his calves and thighs move as I massaged them. I rubbed my head on him, like a cat hungrily bumping against its owner, begging for it.

This wasn’t entirely normal for me. I was used to taking the lead during sex. I tended to dominate when it came to the bedroom (or sunroom-transformed-into-winter-wonderland in our case), but Theo flipped all of that. He was one of the most sexual guys I’d ever been with. He practically screamed sex with every confident strut he took, or with every Spanish word he spoke. Passion hung in everything Theo did, and it made every moment with him unexpected. I never knew when he’d push me into an alley just so he could suck my cock for a minute before kissing me with a wet smile and leading me back into the street, or if he’d guide my hand between his legs underneath a dinner table, where I’d feel how hard he already was. And the shit we ended up doing behind closed doors was even wilder: I’m talking ropes and edging and spanking and upside-down sex acrobatics.