More, Sloan Parker [guided reading books TXT] 📗

never introduced me to his colleagues. He sponsored loads of legislation to strip away my rights. He understood if people knew about his gay son, they'd view him as a mean old bastard. Which, of course, he was. But I knew him in ways few did. I'd seen him point a loaded gun at my face and smile. And that had been when he still spoke to me.

Sitting at the bar in the Haven, I had no clue what I was about to do would be the catalyst for everything. I merely wanted to get fucked in the way I craved.

A half hour later, the turnout looked downright dim. I wasn't ready to give up. I'd find someone. I always did.

As if on cue from some spiritual guide for horny gay men, my gaze captured a young man. He wove in and out of the crowd, heading my way. I'd often considered approaching him, but each time, we'd already found our hookups.

The night was looking up. I'd caught him on his way in.

He had to be somewhere in his early twenties, but his youthful face gave him the look of someone younger. The slight bounce of each step and his wavy, dark hair added to it. He wore tight leather pants that showed off lean leg muscles with each step and a loose white dress shirt. The clothes, the hair, the face, every ounce of him was sexy as hell.

I wanted to be with him, had wanted it for weeks. Things were definitely looking good.

The kid sat on the stool next to mine, and in response to his silent nod, the bartender brought him a glass of club soda. He smiled his thank you and swallowed half his drink in one lift of the glass. His full lips held my attention as he spoke, the words whispered more to the glass than me. “Are you available tonight?”

With his question, I was halfway to getting what I needed. The Haven wouldn't disappoint. It never had.

“Yeah,” I said.

He downed another gulp of the soda. The swipe of his tongue wet his lips, and I couldn't peel my eyes from his mouth.

“I'd like us to find another,” I added.

His head bobbed twice. “That's fine with me.” He spun the glass with two hands and watched the ice swirl and melt in the bubbly liquid.

I cracked a smile. I didn't usually go for his type. Not at the club, and not when I wanted someone to fuck the hell out of me, but something about the kid was inspiring. I ached to find out what he'd be like once we locked the door behind us.

“Let's get a table,” I said. “Check out the clientele.”

He nodded. The club soda continued to hold his interest.

I stood and heard him jump off the stool to follow. I made my way to a nearby table and turned to face him. He stared at his feet and stopped just short of ramming his forehead into my chin. Dramatic, dark eyes flashed up at me. They asked for something, begged for it. Yet they gave me an innocent, naive look as if he hoped I'd tell him what he needed.

Reading people wasn't my forte. Neither was waiting.

I drew in a long breath and stepped back. He moved by me and brushed the length of his arm along mine. The simple gesture jerked my prick awake. Or maybe it was him. He smelled of a crisp, spicy cologne and toothpaste. Had the bartender given him a mouthwash shot with his soda? Who knew that minty smell could alert my dick to the possibility of some action?

I sat across from him. “The name's Luke.”

“Matthew.” He held out a hand. Once he leaned back in his chair, his eyes found mine. “Can I ask how old you are?”

“You got an age requirement?”

“Nah. Just curious.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. The strands straightened and snapped back into waves, the movement smooth. What would that hand feel like wrapped around my dick?

I let out a ragged breath. Waiting could be hard. Damn hard.

“Thirty-three,” I said.

“How often are you here?”

“Friday nights. Some Saturdays. A few weeknights when I need it. It's hard to pass up a guaranteed fuck, you know?”

“I suppose so.” The color rose in his cheeks. He dipped his head and ran a thumb along the edge of the table. “How come we've never done this before?” His gaze drifted between the tabletop and me.

“Don't know. Seems every time I considered it, you were already with someone else. Guess you're too popular.”

He smiled, and his eyes shone as he stared at me. He had a great smile.

Waiting could be nearly impossible.

I scanned the room again. A few men who hadn't been in attendance earlier caught my eye. No one I wanted, though. Then I saw him. He sat alone at a table on the far side of the dining room.

“Matthew, I think we have our third.”

Chapter Two

Matthew peeked over his shoulder. “Oh, man. I've never seen him before.”

“Me neither,” I said.

“Maybe he's new.” Matthew whipped his head around. “I mean, you're here a lot more than me.”

“That's what I need.”

He frowned and tilted his head to the side.

“I want someone I've never seen before tonight. He and you are going to be exactly what I need.”

Matthew's lips spread. He bit at his bottom lip before releasing it and giving in to the full grin. Damn. That smile was sexier than any other.

I forced my attention across the room. The large man was strolling toward us. He had to be a little older than I, but not much. Tall, broad, and all muscle. Nobody would push him into a dark alley and holler “faggot” as they kicked him to the ground.

He wore dress slacks and a crisp blue shirt. Each hung from his body in a precise way. He carried a glass of wine in his hand and walked with a firm step. No hesitation. No worry over his large