Naked. Megan Hart
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the space-age espresso machine, the fancy kind that steamed milk and used those special pods. I’d never learned to use it and in fact didn’t dare touch it in case I dialed something wrong and sent us all back to the Stone Age. I’d be the one to step on the butterfly.
I knew he had a regular coffeemaker someplace, but a search of the cabinets didn’t turn one up. Patrick never got rid of anything—and I mean never, not his favorite T-shirt or a lamp with a broken switch. Hell, obviously not me. He hoarded belongings and people like the Zombpocalypse was coming and the only way to survive was by building a new civilization out of outdated wardrobes, nonfunctioning appliances…and past lovers. I knew he still had that coffeemaker.
Maybe on the screened back porch, plastic-sheeted now for protection against the winter. Patrick had stored a couple dozen boxes of miscellaneous crap there, promising Teddy he’d sort through it, but never doing so. His espresso machine was new, so there was an excellent chance he’d simply moved the old machine aside.
Bracing myself against the cold, I pushed open the back door and went onto the porch. I hissed out heat and broke at once into goose-pimply shivers. I didn’t turn on the overhead light, but went for the first stack of boxes. Didn’t find the coffeemaker, just a collection of porn mags I flipped through with numb, fumbly fingers and shoved back inside the box. It was the closest I was likely to get to an erection tonight, and don’t think I didn’t mourn that fact just a little.
Starting my own business had been great for my ego and sense of satisfaction. It’d been hell on my bank account and my sex life. No time to date, no time to invest in another person, even if I’d found someone I thought would be worth making an effort for. No time even for casual f lirting, since working for myself meant I was alone most of the time. My other two jobs, the ones I’d kept so I could cover my mortgage, weren’t exactly conducive to meeting men. Taking school and sports team photos required a lot of traveling, and though I met many a DILF—a dad I’d like to fuck—most of them were married. My job at Foto Folks was fun and paid well, but my clients were invariably middle-aged women looking for “boudoir” shots or moms who brought their kids to get pictures taken in front of giant stuffed bears. I’d developed a severe allergy to feather boas. I was run-down, but I was happy. I was tired and sometimes stressed, but I was doing what I loved.
I was also officially undersexed.
“C’mon, Patrick, where’d you put it?” I moved toward the porch’s far end, around the sheet-covered wicker furniture and behind a large stack of lawn chairs. “Ah, bingo.”
Coffeemaker, filters, even a zipped plastic bag of coffee beans. He really never got rid of anything. I laughed and shook my head, and turned at the sound of the back door opening behind me.
Freeze-frame.
Two silhouettes appeared in the doorway. Men. The smaller one shoved the bigger one against the wall. Oh. I got it. I was ready to clear my throat and announce my presence when the taller man turned his face toward the light.
How could I have ever thought him commonly, regularly handsome? Alex Kennedy’s profile made me want to weep, if only because there are too few people in this life who are so beautiful while also being so real. In full light everything on his face had lined up just right. Here, now, with shadow splitting him in half, I could see his nose was too sharp, his lower jaw a little too undercut for perfection. His hair fell over his forehead, and he grimaced as the man in front of him dropped to his knees and unzipped Alex’s trousers.
I still had time to call out a warning. They were far gone, maybe drunk or maybe just so deep in their lust they weren’t paying attention to anything else, but I could’ve stopped them if I really wanted to. I didn’t.
“Evan,” the low, creamy voice that must belong to Alex said. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Shut up.”
The shadows morphed into figures again, one standing tall, the other crouched at his feet. The light from the streetlamp down the alley was barely bright enough to illuminate anything, but it was enough to show me what was going on. And, I thought, to block me from their view if they’d bothered to look, since I was in the far corner and settled deep in shadow. So long as I kept quiet and still, chances were very good they’d never even know I was there. They would come…and then go.
Evan yanked Alex’s trousers down past his knees. I stifled my sudden harsh breath with my hand. I couldn’t see cock, but I’m not too proud to admit I looked for it. What I could see was Evan’s hand stroking. His shoulder moved, a lump of black against gray. Alex’s head tipped back with a dull thud against the wall.
“Shut up and take it,” Evan said.
Maybe he meant to be menacing or sexy, but Alex only laughed and put his hand on Evan’s head. Did I imagine the twist and twine of his fingers in the other man’s hair? It was impossible to see, but in the next second, when Evan’s head jerked back, I thought it must’ve been from his lover’s grip.
“Are you fucking serious?” Alex said around his laughter.
The next noise Evan made didn’t quite hit menacing. I didn’t find it very sexy but Alex must have, because he loosed his grip enough to let Evan’s head bob forward. I heard the soft, wet noise of a mouth on f lesh.
Damn.
“Fuck, that’s good.”
“I know how you like it,” Evan said, softer this time, without the attitude.
“Who doesn’t?” Alex laughed, low and slow and a little drowsy.
If it makes me a pervert to get excited watching two people fucking, then sign me up and send me the T-shirt.
More soft, wet sounds. I was sort of soft and wet myself at that point, and the only thing stopping me from reaching between my legs was that I was frozen in place with fascination—and of course, knowing I wasn’t watching some surreptitious gay porn, but real live men getting off.
I squeezed my thighs. Wow. That felt good. I did it again, putting pressure on my clit that wasn’t as good as a fingertip or a tongue would have been, but the slow and steady clench of muscle nevertheless started the buildup of pressure inside me I recognized.
I blinked, my eyes adjusting further to the darkness. I could see the flash of Alex’s eyes as he looked down at Evan, then the gleam of Evan’s smile as he pulled away from Alex’s cock. Alex put his hand on Evan’s head again. Evan got back to the business of cock sucking.
Alex moaned.
Evan made a muffled noise that didn’t sound nearly as nice. I heard more shuffling. The floorboards creaked. Another dull thump on the wall made me open my eyes, and I watched Alex’s silhouette arch.
He was coming. I had to close my eyes, turn my face. I couldn’t watch this, no matter how sexy it was, no matter how kinky and perverted I was. I wasn’t cold anymore, that was for sure.
“No,” Alex said, and I opened my eyes.
Evan had stood. There was distance between them, a space of light in the darkness of their two shadows. I watched Evan’s move forward again, a little, and Alex stepped to the side.
“No?” Evan repeated, voice querulous. “You’ll let me suck your dick, but you won’t kiss me?”
Zip. Sigh. Alex’s shape moved in what looked like a shrug.
“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”
“I know it,” Alex said. “But so did you before you brought me out here.”
Evan, incredibly, stamped his foot. Even Patrick at his queeniest never stamped his foot. “I hate you!”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do!” Evan opened the door and I shut my eyes tight against the sudden spilling of light. “You can just forget about coming home!”
“Your place isn’t home. Why do you think I took all my