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Young escort, an #artist, sex in the pantry-paint everywhere! #lgbtq, #gay, #maydecember, #gayromance, #lingerie, #fetish
COVER STORY
“I painted with love until she died. I never expected to meet him.”
Weston Tucker overhears a young man lament finding adequate living space or having to return to his father’s home. Perfectly manicured fingers pulled out a credit card few can name on sight alone. Young, far too handsome, Wes thinks to knock the spoiled brat, whose family name he recognizes, down a peg or two. With paint stained fingers, he proffers his card offering a room in return for having the inside of his home painted.
“He’s crotchety, mean, disdainful. He smells damn good, he’s delicate, gentle, and oh so very nasty!”
Hunter Gold’s job as an escort for Brief Knights has to end or his father threatens to cut him off. At the same time, his roommate leaves Hunt in a fix for housing. A few more escort assignments are booked but he takes on a job painting for a recluse to have a place to live and a small salary until he can straighten things out. Hunt never dreamed of becoming enamored of the enigmatic loner he worked for.
A young escort, a painter with a secret, and sex in the pantry. Paint gets everywhere!
A standalone MM/May-December Romance, with an HEA, and no cliffhanger. Includes lingerie fetish, angry sex, and explicit sexual language with cursing!
EXCERPT:
Tired of waiting for Scott to return from the banquet room, Hunt went searching in case his client showed up. Odd how empty the bar stood. Normally had to comb for seats on a Saturday night. He reached the door and stopped dead in his tracks. “What the hell?”
Scott appeared behind him. “Keep walking because he’s already seen you. Stop now and you’ll never know.”
Twisting his head, Hunt glared. “What is this?”
“Ban says I’m supposed to tell you; wait, let me remember so I get it right. He said say, ‘Payback is a bitch, motherfucker’.”
Hunt jerked toward the room and stared at Weston. Christ, he’s fucking beautiful! Stanton was nowhere to be seen but Ban stood not far behind Wes, lips curled. He had nerve to blow a kiss before turning away.
Months and months ago, he’d given Banyon, totally against his wishes, an opportunity to see Stanton once more. It worked. Those two were inseparable, would always be.
Was this his chance? Thankful he wore a suit and looked his best, he strode toward Weston who gazed at Hunt but never moved. Bastard wasn’t going to make this easy.
When he reached Wes, he took Hunt’s hand and tugged him from the room. Not saying a word, they passed through the bar, into the Beverly Chateau’s lobby, and to the elevators. Still, Wes said nothing. Doors opened and a couple exited. Weston half pulled, half pushed him into the empty elevator. Doors barely slid shut before he shoved Hunt against a cold, metal wall. “A fucking escort?”
“Weston, there was no way to tell you.”
“You could have opened with ‘by the way men pay me to be with them’.”
“It’s not like that.” Heat suffused Hunt’s face. “I owe you nothing. I was hired to paint your fucking house.” Letting this go, entered his mind. Run away. No, I won’t!
“Which you never finished.” Reaching the third floor, he drew Hunt in his wake. “I rented a room to escape the crowd. Seems it won’t be wasted.” Wes slid a key card in and practically kicked the door open. “I’ll pay you.” It closed and he spun on Hunt. “What exactly did they get for their money?”
“You bitch.”
“I fucking wanted you.” He slammed Hunt against the door. “What. Did. They. Get?”
“Wanted?” Hunter yearned for more. If they couldn’t have it, may as well know now. “No one got what you did.” He touched Wes’ lips, stroked his thumb across them. “No one ever will.”
“I fucking hate you.” He hadn’t released his hold on Hunt, didn’t ask him to leave.
Angry sex. “Hate me while you show me how much you want me, hate me slowly, and gently. Hate me with your mouth, hands, and God knows, I want you to hate me with your cock.” He leaned and kissed Wes. “If you can’t do that, let me go.”
“Tell me what was different?” His voice softened. “What, Hunter?”
“You got a piece of my heart.” He bent toward Wes, whispered in his ear, “What are you wearing beneath the suspenders and handsome dress shirt, WT?”
“Goddamn you.”
♂♂♂♂
Hunt hadn’t been in Wes’ house long but when he left, it grew too quiet. Loneliness haunted hallways. Sometimes he stood in the doorway of the room Hunt had occupied which was now twice the size. He tried to picture him in bed, foot propped on pillows. Wes attempted to capture his scent.
Absent. Everything gone.
Planning for this showing, getting art work finished, selecting what he wanted to present and sell to the public, it’s all that kept him going. Often, Hunt whispered through his mind. Which pieces had he seen when he snuck into the studio? Did he like any one in particular?
Wes drove himself crazy.
And now here he was, in front of Wes asking to be taken gently, quietly.
“I like when you call me WT.”
“I like your hair out.”
“I thought of you.” He slipped suspenders down his arms and began to unbutton his shirt. He removed it revealing a corset with a zipper up the front. Fucking glad he’d worn black with lots of lace. Thong felt sexy as hell cutting the crease of his ass.
Wes’ heart stuttered when Hunt sucked in air and murmured, “More beautiful than I envisioned.” He peeled his jacket off, loosened and removed his tie before unzipping Wes’ top enough to latch onto a nipple. He licked, sucked, and ended by teasing the taut peak with teeth.
“Fuck, that feels amazing.”
“Do you realize what you do to me, WT, the power you hold over every fucking part of me?”
“If it’s half what I feel, I don’t know how you’re still standing.” Wes was swept off his feet, literally. “I’m suppose to do you slowly, quietly.”
“And you will.” Hunt tossed him into the center of the bed and crawled between his legs. Unbuttoning Wes’ pants, he snatched them down. “Fuck me. A black thong.” Bunching the corset out of his way, he pinched nipples as he kissed Wes’ stomach from one side to the other, delved into his belly button. “My dick hurts to be inside you.” Christ, Hunt tortured Wes when he pulled his panties down enough to lick the crown of his prick. Drawing the head through lips, he pulled it down his throat. Head bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “Mm, yeah. I could lap this all night.”
“I don’t have all night.” Wriggling from beneath Hunt, Wes pushed him onto his stomach. He stretched on top of him and ground into his ass. “How does your cock feel now?”
“Jesus, it’s hard, wet.”
Continuing to rub up and down on Hunt’s clothed body, Wes moaned as he nipped one ear then the other. He ran hands down Hunt’s side, reached beneath him with one and massaged his shaft. “You are hard.”
“And I’m going to come in my pants.”
“Liar, you just want to get them off.”
“Yes, please.”
“Right. Wouldn’t do for you to show up downstairs with cum-stained pants.”
Wes rolled him over, fumbled with shirt buttons and pushed it off. Hunt murmured, “Damn, I missed you.” He already had pants undone and shimmied to remove them after kicking shoes off. He stroked Wes’ arms, his chest and belly.
“You missed crotchety, disdainful old me?”
“Ban talks too much and I’d never say old.”
“Banyon made me realize something.”
“Yeah?”
“I liked having you around.”
“For painting?”
“You know better.” Mounting Hunt, Wes slipped up and down his body. “It’s more.” Sitting up, he let Hunt’s fat prick rub against his through material growing damp with precum. “It’s this.” He bent forward and stole Hunt’s mouth. Tongues tangled, probed, tasted. Satisfied, he moved his mouth down, down until he captured a taut nipple. Biting it, he rocked and rolled against Hunter’s crotch and when moans buffeted air against his hair, he sighed. “I want more.” He reached between his legs and moved the strip of material to the side. “I missed this.” Spitting in his hand, mixing it with semen coating Hunt’s knob, he rose up and eased down until Hunt’s shaft was buried inside his ass. “Fuck yes!” Leaning Wes murmured, “No one gets my ass like this but you.”
Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele
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