2 comments/  13110 views/  26 favorites

Jingle Bell Rock Ch. 01

By: Rie_Warren



Brian "Beef" Carroway thinks he's gay. No, he knows he is. He's gruff, buff, and overcompensating for his big size and soft heart. Brian's the badass bouncer at Mosh rock club where Cajun singer Jack Cotille moonlights for the month of December.

With a voice like sin, Jack is walking, talking, sexy temptation in the flesh. He's also fly-by-night, possibly homeless, and chancing everything on a wing and a prayer. Just about the only thing Brian is sure of is traveling man Jack belts out dirty rock lyrics while promising the kind of pornographic sex he's only fantasized about.

He's definitely gay for Jack.

One Christmas kiss leads to a night of heaven, a morning of hell. The holiday week leaves Brian aching for more than his wanderer singer can give as the New Year's Eve countdown begins.



Jingle Bell Rock Ch. 01



His voice throbbed above the pounding of water, the pounding of my pulse. "Let's get outta here."

Toweling off beside him, I asked, "You hungry?" It wasn't meant to be a come on, but it sure sounded like one. And it was pretty hard to avoid that when we both stood basically bare ass with cocks bobbing.

"I could eat."

Fuck. Me too.

I tossed him a pair of sweats and hauled some on myself, pulling him to the kitchen. I gave him a beer and nursed my own. Because our nights were all fucked up on account of working club hours, it was closer to morning than midnight so I made breakfast. With beer. Maybe I wasn't queer after all.

One look at Jack watching me with a smile on his cherry red lips and my heart jackrabbited around my chest.

I am queer.

Just like my apartment, breakfast wasn't fancy, but it was filling. Eggs, toast, bacon. No coffee if we planned on catching some shuteye. Or perhaps I should start plying Jack with the caffeine, make sure he stayed good and awake until I had my way with him.

He smacked his lips after he cleared his plate, slinging one arm around the back of his chair. His hooded gaze settled on my bare chest and slid up to my mouth. I licked my lips, setting my fork down.

"You're really just a gentle giant, aren't ya?"

Yeah, a gentle giant who wants to fuck the living daylights out of you.

"I assume you've seen me restraining drunken fuckwits at the club." I raised an eyebrow.

"Sure, but is that you, or is this?" He gestured to the kitchen and our plates then the pathetic excuse for a Christmas tree tucked into one corner of my living room. Its spindly lopsided limbs were not to be outdone by the tacky twinkling lights.

"Hey, I'm trying to be full of the Christmas spirit here." I laughed.

"Is that why you brought me home?"

I shook my head.

"You bring guys home a lot?"

Another head shake, a whispered, "Never."

"I like that answer." His chair scraped back then his hand was held out to me as he stood before me. "C'mere."

I eased into his arms, which folded me against him. Leaning toward his face, I licked and sucked those ripe lips before delving inside to discover a world of warmth and wetness. "Just you," I murmured as Jack dragged his mouth down my throat.

We ended up in my bed, sweats long gone, my legs trapped by his. Cuddling and kissing. Every time my cock nudged his, I thought my entire body would explode from that point outward.

When breathing became difficult and thinking impossible, he leaned over me and clicked off the light. He snuggled in close, ignoring my throbbing fucking hard-on.

"G'night, Brian." His nose nuzzled into the nape of my neck.

His body heat raged behind me, making sleep impossible. Shit, him—naked in my bed? Smelling of soap and feeling of everything manly from the shadow of hair on his chin to the strong lean muscles against my back, and the hot brand of his dick searing my ass—made sleeping, breathing, and anything but sporting a big fat boner impossible.

When he twisted further against me, I inhaled loudly.

His hand slid over my hip, onto my belly and down, down, down. Underneath my surefire so-hard cock, he grasped my balls, both lucky nuggets in his rough palm. Precome leaked from the head of my shaft, rolling down, coursing through his handhold on my nutsack. Jack kissed my neck and mouthed my earlobe. He nudged my shoulder.

I rolled onto my back, riding the loose, teasing grip of his hand up and over and off the head of my cock. My hips punched up and my breath came out in pants. "Fuck, baby."

Baby.

His blue glazed stare widened then shuttered closed. "Say that again."

Raising my head, I licked my lips then his, taunting him closer. "Suck my cock, baby."

I watched his abs strike up in sharp relief when he groaned. He squeezed the fat column of flesh in his hand. His face disappeared down my chest, kissing the slim line of blond hair until it nested around the base of my cock. Jack sucked me into his mouth. He didn't tease or taste or test the waters. He took my entire shaft down in one large gulp so I felt his throat muscles moving in a velvet vise constricting over my length.

I shouted and he laughed. That laughter spilled chills down my spine and spun lust through my brain. Sleek back, bent head, hot breaths made me jerk. I wanted cock in my mouth too. I wanted his between my lips.

Hands on his inner thighs, I felt every muscle shifting as I kissed along the swarthy hairline that thickened the closer I got to his beautiful pink low-hangers. I moved him up and over my face until he straddled me with his mouth buried in my groin doing such debauched things I had a hard time focusing.

His thick, rich-colored cock hovered above my tongue. I pushed him further forward until his plump testes saddled my chin, his rigid cock slapping my chest. I kissed all across his taut ass cheeks. His glutes were tight crescents I peeled apart for my first view of his pink star of flesh. He wiggled in front of my face.

Jesus Christ.

I lipped around the edges of his smooth pink hole until it opened like a goddamn flower bloom. Inside, Jack looked wet and rosy. I bit my lip when he dug his fingers into my thighs, taking my cock deeper. And he shoved his perfect ass back.

I lapped up and down and around, holding him open. "So sweet, dude."

His muffled reply was a deep groan sent against my groin, incredible suction interspersed with insane-making wet circuits around and around my engorged tip.

"Never done this before." I nipped and sucked and used one thumb to open him wider for my tongue.

Jack pumped my slickened cock in his hand. "Uhhh. Fuck, Bri. You kiddin' me?" His soft black hair and raspy dark stubble scraped up and down my dick. "So good. Jesus. Yeah. Eat my ass."

I attacked his ass like a man faced with his favorite last meal. I'd just never realized it. He tasted hot and musky and so fucking sinful, I strained to get my tongue deeper just for another ass-wiggle from him, another shout when he came off my cock to yell about how goddamn good I made him feel.

Pushing his gleaming ass up, I craned my neck to make long lollipop licks up and down the hottest hardest cock. I had to pull it down from where it stretched against his stomach and aim the thick swollen head between my lips. I moaned when he slid inside. All that heavy male flesh against my tongue, the taste sharper at the tip that oozed wetness. It felt so right to suck him, blow on him, tease him by rubbing that gorgeous knob against my whiskered cheek. So right to be with him. Unfettered, unworried, unrushed. I had no fear about losing my wood this time. Not with Jack practically screwing my brains out with the deep appreciative groans and all over bites and licks wetting every inch of my shaft.

Damn.

Too close, too far gone, I pulled Jack up and pinned him to the bed. My arms were steel bands around him and his hands were hot pistons between us. We rutted together, me gasping, Jack talking, filthy words spilling out in his Cajun accent.

"Mm. Fuck, beb, so goddamn hot like that. Got muscles like a mountain lion, all golden." He reached up to suck on my tongue. "Asshole's all golden too, mm hmm, cher. Hot virgin boy ass."

My breath exploded like bullets from my chest, so fast, rapid-fire. He kept jerking our cocks together. I moaned when his back raised and his eyes blinked. His mouth ovaled and he came. His cock expanded and fired off against mine with hot spurts of come, thick and milky.

I curled over him and all but bleated when my dick jumped and pumped. The massive orgasm took my breath away. It stole across every muscle in my body, blitzing out my brain.

I came to awareness with his index finger sliding over my lips and into my mouth. Jack pushed come—his and mine—inside, following with his lips and tongue in the most erotic kisses I'd ever had. We traded more come-laden kisses, cleaning the stickiness from our hands and stomachs and chests, moaning and writhing together like a muscled humping beast.

I got hot Jack jizz for Christmas. Joy to the World, indeed.

"Yeah. I think I'm definitely gay." Long muscular legs tangled between mine, crisp dark hair scratching against my lighter ones. Wet groins pushed together with my cock growing between us.

Jack jerked me slowly and breathed against my ear with a throaty chuckle. "Go to sleep, my big gay Beef."

When I closed my eyes, Jack in my arms, the sun was just beginning to rise.



Jingle Bell Rock Ch. 02



I woke up at midday with morning wood and an unshakeable feeling of loss. My late night lover was gone. All that lingered of Jack was the scent of combined spunk that shouldn't have been sexy and the dent from his head in the pillow beside me. 

I sat down with a cup of coffee I coddled between my hands. His disappearance got under my skin in a way I didn't want to inspect. It was pretty damn clear he didn't have any place to go. Had I sucked at sucking cock? He sure hadn't acted like it. But then he was one motherfucking talented showman. 

I groaned and bunched my forearms on the table. It didn't matter why. The fact was the rejection stung. And when the hell had I gone and grown a pair of tits and a matched set of ovaries to go with? 

Getting up, I rinsed out my mug. I leaned back against the sink and stared at the table where we'd sat eating breakfast together just a few short hours ago. I remembered the soft feel of his hair in my hands, the stunning blue color of his eyes, the intense hungry kisses that were never enough and just the beginning of more. 

I was a stalker. He was a one-night-stander. Maybe that made us even. 

In lieu of hunting Jack down and dragging him back, I spent another fan-fuckin'-tastic Christmas Day thinking about the night before and what had almost been and what wouldn't be. Fucking sad case. Then I watched ESPN while baking, tackling two stereotypes at once. Big butch dude and sports. Possibly gay guy and baking. Muffins and stud muffins. 

Who are you kidding? There is no 'possibly' about it. You spent a couple hours rolling around naked, giving and receiving head with the most gorgeous man you've ever met. Thinking about him makes you spring a boner and you had an out-of-body orgasm . . . with a man.

After that complete wake-up call, I turned off the internal commentator as well as the loudmouthed one on TV. I also shut down the I'm-a-homo-at-last hallelujahs because I had to call my family. I spoke to Ma, Pa, my two brothers and one sister all settled within four miles of each other back in the small Iowa town where I'd grown up. They yammered on about birthdays and college sports and new babies and when was I coming back to meet a nice girl, get hitched, start a family? 

After that I escaped into a six-pack of beers. 

My guitar hero, porno fantasy didn't have a set the next night. That didn't stop me from looking for a shock of black hair and a blaze of true blue eyes inside Mosh. No dice though. 

I handed a Tupperware container of muffins to Jane, figuring she could put them in baskets for breakfast the next morning at Nosh if they were up to snuff. She peered at the contents. She watched me scanning the crowd like my eyes were laser beams that could latch onto Jack and pull him in. 

"Ooh, Beef, you are hankerin'." Shrewd Jane leaned over the bar.

"Huh?" 

"C'mon, come to my office. You can tell me all about it."

I met her at the swinging doors to the admin hall and backstage area of the club. She hustled me into her office and shut the door. Pouring a couple drinks from her personal stash, she sat behind the desk and propped her feet up. 

"Listen, Beef, from the dyke to the not-so-straight-stud, your secret's out."

And apparently the floor had just dropped out from under my feet too because I had a bad case of the head spins. "Wait. You're a—"

"Lady lover, vagina miner, a chick licker." Her grin grew impossibly huge the more my mouth gaped open. 

I snapped it shut. I rubbed my forehead and tried to think of something useful to say. Are congrats in order? "Oookay. But I'm not—"

"Get over yourself already. And if you wanna keep your big secret, you probably oughtta stop eye-fucking our favorite Cajun chanteur."

My cheeks felt like they burst into flames. "I don't—"

"Lust after Jack? Yeah, you do. Why do you think I keep tryin' to throw you at him? You're desperate for some nasty dick action." She snorted and knocked back her liquor. "Listen, babe, I'm all about the rainbow of love so any hang-ups you have about your homosexy-ness, get over it right now." She ran a hand through her spiky hair. "Took you long enough to figure it out though."

My jaw dropped to the floor as I dropped my ass to a chair and downed the whiskey neat.

"Look, if things don't work out with you and Jack Frost pretty boy, I don't imagine you'll have a hard time pickin' up another hot piece of ass."

Could not believe I was having this convo with my boss. "I'm not gay." Deny, deny, deny.

"Yes, you are."

My brow scrunched. "Maybe just for him?"

"How many damn times have I caught you with pussy dripping off you like gold chains from a rap singer? And you always look like a lamb bein' lead to the slaughter. One look at Jack and no one can get your attention. No one. I don't care if you think you're a hitchhiker on the gay highway, but at least admit you have the hots for the man."

"I took him home last night."

She poured more whiskey. "Cheers!"

"He got me off then took off while I was sleeping."

"Oh, hell."

"Any more words of wisdom? Maybe another street boy you wanna set me up with?" Stomping to my feet, I had my eyes on the door. 

"Sit your ass down." A command from Jane was not to be messed with even if I could take down the five-foot-four hard-ass woman. 

I plunked into my seat. 

"Why do you think we call you Beef?"

"Because I'm big and dumb as a side of?"

"Jesus cunt. Do you even own a mirror? You're gorgeous, buff, sexy as hell."

I sent my eyes skyward. As far as I knew, Jesus didn't have a cunt and the rest of the shit she spewed was bogus too. 

"And I'm willing to bet M'sieur Cotille thinks so too."

"Bullshit." I sat back, folding my arms over my chest. 

"So I guess the way his eyes are glued to you all night long is because he thinks you're disgusting. Not because he wants to jump your bones."

"Uh huh. And after he popped my gay cherry by giving me my first bj from a guy, he did a runner. Total romance there." Talk about a shock to my self-confidence.

Jane wasn't digging my pity party. "I bet he gets hard for you all night long. He'll be back, tomorrow night in fact." She crossed in front of the desk when I rose from the chair. She sent me off with a swat to my ass. "Now get back to work and stop being such a moody prick."

"I thought moody and pricky were part of my job description." I ducked out the door before she could throw something at my head.

****

The night that never ended finally finished with a knock at a godawful hour of the morning. Cracking the door, it turned out I didn't have to wait until the next night to see Jack. Since I had a Jack Cotille blind spot to go with the soft spot I couldn't hide around him—not to mention an unrelenting hard-on for the man—I let him inside. 

He had a plastic bag in his hand . . . guitars crisscrossed over his shoulders. A cleft in his chin and twin goddamn deep dimples on his cheeks just like the ones I'd felt above his ass the other night. "So, I wanted to say sorry."

"Are you just looking for a place to flop?"

"I dunno, cher." The deep voice and sexy accent were pitch perfect to make my prick hard. "You don' make me do things for money. You're big and warm and fun to kiss. I like sleepin' with you, mais if you don' like it, I can go."

Fuck that. The man looked up at me with his eyes a killer combination of sinful innocence. I skimmed my thumb across his cheek beneath the dark fan of his eyelashes, sweeping the cold off his flesh and warming him with mine. 

Dark day-old stubble was soft beneath my palm when I cupped his jaw. His eyes slid closed and if I hadn't been focused on every nuance of this man-boy, I would've missed his slight parting of lips and the quiver in his neck. 

Pulling my hand away, I asked, "You gonna run away again?" I scratched my belly and his gaze glommed onto the blond pelt beneath my fingers. 

His breath hitched as his eyes lifted to my face. He shook a CVS bag at me. "I brought presents."

"You didn't have to do that."

Jack stood uncertainly in the doorway. "Just thought I owed you somethin'."

"How old are you, Jack?" Because he seemed wise and knowing, and totally fucking guileless at the same time. 

"Twenty-four if I'm a day. You?"

"Twenty-six."

"Bien. I like big blond bears."

I barked a laugh and backed up. Jack gathered his backpack from the landing. 

Closing the door behind him, I pushed him onto the couch. "Are you a prostitute?" The question popped from the top of my mind and out of my mouth before I could reel it back in. This was not the way to entice him into staying, but I needed one thing from him, one truth. He gave himself while holding back everything. Transparent but with layers I'd never discover. 

He merely shrugged his shoulders. That soft flop of black hair fell into his eyes. "I'm a survivor. Do what I gotta do."

I did not like the idea of him out alone all night long. Or picking up whatever cheap fucking thrill he could to trick his way into a bed for the night. My heart played air hockey in my chest. "What does that mean?"

"Means you gotta lighten up. You need to take a load off." He reached for my jeans. "I can help with that."

Oh God, I wanted to say yes, I wanted to shout it out loud before he disappeared again. But more importantly I didn't want to wake up in the morning with him missing from my bed. 

I stilled his fingers that fiddled with the button fly of my jeans. "Are you really gay?"

"Oh yeah. Definitely homo . . . and very seriously gay for you. All the time. You're so fuckin' sexy. Since when did you decide dick does it for you?"

"Since you."

"That should work in my favor then." Everything worked in his favor, especially when he stood up and stripped off in the middle of my living room. He dived into the bag of goodies and pulled out half-price boxes of tree ornaments. 

I took his seat and squirmed on the couch. "Christmas is over."

"Not for me it isn't. Get that hard meat out for me, Beef."

Working out of my jeans was a feat of gymnastics because my cock tangled in the waistband. Freed from clothes, I crossed my arms behind my head to enjoy the show. He tinseled the tree and hung ornaments on it—Jack, my very own naughty angel who decorated while naked, his cock stretched straight up, rigid and ready.

"You don't have to do that."

"You don' like it? Most guys want more from me." Again with the whore attitude. 

"I'm not most guys, I just want you."

He dangled a piece of mistletoe from his fingertips as he swaggered to me. Bare skin, rampant cock, unbelievably erotic. 

"You cheesy son of a bitch." I dove for his lips, kissing them hard. Guiding his hips down to me until he lay in the lee of my thighs, I growled and gasped against his mouth. His hot body on top of mine, I clutched his smooth ass.

Slithering down my torso, he nibbled up and down my shaft. "You like the mistletoe now?" His parted lips sucked hard on the side of my cock.

I nodded mutely, eyes wide and unblinking. He made me hold the sprig of mistletoe above my cock as he gave slick Christmas kisses all over it. 

Before I could come, he slid me to the floor. He turned off the lights, leaving us bathed in the multicolor glow from the Christmas tree. "That's better," he murmured against my ear, turning me over to my front. 

He hauled me up, close enough to know I was gonna get fucked . . . hard. His knuckles and fingers dug deep into my glutes. His naked sweaty skin covering my back, Jack lifted me until I was in a hands and knees position. 

Then he pulled off of me, palming my ass cheeks open. "Jesus. You're a fuckin' brute." Rough hands kneaded me. "Your ass, they oughtta name a mountain range after it." One finger perched at the rim. "Gonna be so fuckin' tight, cher." 

Oh my fucking FUCK. 

That was when his tongue then his fingers and possibly his tonsils too spread me, tasted me. Tunneling and twisting and turning with lube and spit and . . . goddamn. I shivered from my hips all the way up my body when he rolled on a condom. The lube went on next. He used loud, wet audible strokes, massaging the slick length between his hand and my cleft, breathing as hard and fast as me. His cockhead knocked against my hole. He groaned loud with his dick in hand. Working me open again, he pushed more lube into my chute with three fingers. 

"Fuuuck," I grunted.

"You sure you want me in there?"

I reached back to grab his neck and pull him to me. My kiss was a deep plunge of tongue into his mouth, showing him exactly what I wanted him to do to me. 

When he dragged the full, moist head of his cock against me, I rasped, "Do it, fuck me."

My shoulders shook, my biceps bunched hard, bracing me up off the floor. Jack tunneled in, one slow inch at a time. The burn of it stung my eyes and pinched my ass. The foreign feeling of something—Jack—inside of me made me cry out. When the fiery pain eased, he was only half inside my trench and I was ready for all of him. 

He held my hips in two firm hands when I tried to rock back. "Slow, cher, slow. Take my cock like this."

The heat, the wet, the brand of being fucked as Jack soldered into me made me widen my thighs to accept every long inch of him.

He let loose the second I groaned. Hips thrusting, he yanked my short hair and breathed into my ear . . . that harsh dirty voice making me lose it. His low growls and long licks as he filled my ass had me slamming back against him as fast as I could.

Jack shouted and pulled out. I looked back over my shoulder. He poured more lube into his hand and slid wet fingers inside me. Another trail of slick went up his sheathed cock.

The grin he sent me was pure wicked intentions. Then he thrust inside of me in one straight shot. That time I yelled a hoarse cry that bounced off the walls and back at us. Pleasure pounded through me. His cock squelched. Our loud wet ass-fuck made me see stars behind my eyelids. They united in a supernova of fireworks as I shouted and shook and came so terrifyingly, so fucking awesomely hard, jism sprayed all over the floor and my chest and my neck in a scorching fountain. 

Jack railed into me a few more times. Harsher and harsher breaths while I clenched around him, riding the wild thrusts. Then his hips snapped so hard he forced me to the floor. His breath stopped. His body bowed over mine. I felt the throbbing pump of his come filling the condom inside me and finally, finally his long loud roar. 

Minutes later, maybe hours—who knew?—I heard the rubber snap off and his feet padding to the bathroom. A light came on somewhere in the distance, but fuck me, my vision was still blurred from the fuck of the century. A warm washcloth swabbed between my legs and his lips played gently with my mouth. The washcloth was tossed somewhere across the room. A pillow was shoved under my head and then blankets and Jack's bare skin snuggled over and against me.

Fucking perfect. 

"Not a virgin anymore, beb."

"Ungh," was all I could manage.

"I hurt you?"

"Nuh uh," I slurred. 

He caressed my ass and back and shoulders in soothing motions, and I felt his smile against my neck, the tiny kisses and soft murmurs. 

I fell asleep, so satisfied. 

I woke to the low strains of Jack singing by the light of my one red candle. His back to the couch beside me, deep blue gaze locked on me. Voice sultry and deep, he hummed the refrain of a song I'd never heard. I reached for him, sitting up, kissing the words from his lips. And I took him inside me again.

Stay tuned for chapter three... 



Jingle Bell Rock Ch. 03



3

A Side of Beef

Jack's vanishing act the next day wasn't unexpected, just hated. Once again, I roamed my apartment, coming up empty-handed. The fifty I'd tucked beneath the melted red candle on the kitchen table was untouched. I didn't want to buy Jack but I didn't want him cold or hungry or roaming around homeless. I'd fallen hard for the man in the space of three days, much harder than I'd suspected I would when I was watching him from afar.

I had his last name, but I didn't have a phone number. Definitely no address, as had basically been established. He'd taken his backpack and guitars with him so I didn't have anything to blackmail him with. The last thing I remembered from the night before were his desperate husky cries as he came inside me a third time after we finally made it to the bed. I'd passed out, probably with a 'lucky bastard' grin on my lips and I never heard him leave.

The one saving grace was I knew Jack Cotille and the Crazy Boys had a gig at Mosh that night. I took special care with my appearance before heading into work. I took a long shower, had a hot shave with lots of lather. My ass was a little sore; twinging when I sat down, but it was an ache I wore like a frigging badge of honor. I liked knowing Jack's cock had been inside me. A grin on my face, I put on a new pair of leathers, one of my black T-shirts, and big shitkicker boots. I considered making Jack a to-go box of food he could snack on but how ridiculous would that be? Hey baby, here's a doggie bag . . . and thanks for the doggie style fucking last night. Think we can try it again later?

At Mosh I had to wait until all the music lovers and rowdy partiers in line made it through the doors before I could follow them in. Jane winked at me from her station behind the bar. She shouted above the din, "You boy's here. Rockin' set tonight!"

Nice. Very smooth. Thanks, Jane. Bob the part-time bartender smirked in my direction. Yup, secret's out.

I found a nice place to park my ass on the sidelines where I could keep an eye on any dickheads with attitudes. I also made sure I had a giant stretch of uninterrupted view of Jack. As the night wore on I had to bounce several douchebags who'd had too much to drink. And the ones who thought getting punchy with their girlfriends was a smooth move. As well as the idiots who were too high to see straight but just plucky enough to start a fight over nothing.

All the while, Jack's gritty voice washed over me like a promise to fuck. The way he held the guitar over his crotch, pulling it and pushing it, invited a host of sexual fantasies I wanted to enact. His hips moving in circles reminded me of the way he'd grinded into me last night, rotating his pelvis and pushing deep.

Testing Jane's theory, I stopped pretending I wasn't paying aaaany attention whatsoever to Jack and blatantly stared at him. And whaddya know? His gaze penetrated me the second I made eye contact, never straying. Singing to me. Licking his gorgeous cocksucking lips. Christ. He made me so horny.

By the time the final set ended I was worried about busting through the seams of my leathers. Thankfully I got to cool off as I escorted the final clubbers from Mosh when the house lights came on. But back inside, bathed once more in Jack's unmuted gaze, I was helpless to stop what I'd always been too scared to do before.

I marched up to the stage.

He peered up from packing his guitar and wiped a lick of sweat from his temple with the collar of his shirt. "Cher."

God. He killed me when he called me that. Add the drawl and the slow smile, the damp shaggy black hair . . . I jumped onto the stage. Excitement flashed across his eyes when I walked over to him. Running both hands up his arms, I cupped his neck. I leaned in to lick the juicy curve of his so-red lips, grinning when he hissed between his teeth. Then I kissed him, drawing his tongue into my mouth, moaning with how sweet he tasted.

I kissed Jack—a man—right there in the middle of Mosh in front of Jane, his bandmates, God and everyone.

And holy hell, did he ever kiss me back. One long wet, plundering loud kiss punctuated by his growling whimper.

"You're coming home with me, baby." I pulled back.

His face was flushed, his grin full of delight. "Okay."

"Get your shit. Let's go." I was too impatient to wait for the rest of them to pack up.

"Okay."

We exited to the sound of whistles and claps and catcalls.

I barely restrained myself from attacking him outside, or against my truck, or inside it. I wanted Jack so much, but I wanted to take it slow—and goddammit—I wanted to know where he would be and how I could reach him.

Hustling him into my apartment, I watched him drop the guitar cases and stow his backpack. I thrust my phone at him. "Add your number."

His teeth bit into his lip, a lip that smiled as he tapped at the screen.

"Now I'm giving you mine."

He dutifully plugged my number into his phone and I made him show it to me. The entry didn't have my name, just Cher.

Fuck, my heart did a backflip in my chest.

Tonight there were worrying dark circles under his eyes. I stroked my thumb softly over the discolored skin, closing in to kiss him chastely. "Now we're gonna eat."

"Yessir."

"Then you're gonna sleep the rest of the night and morning in my bed and you ain't running off while I'm passed out because you fucked every single bone in my body loose."

"Mais, I can do the fucking part, right?"

My eyes flipped wide. My fists clenched on my hips. "Yeah." My voice lowered to a hoarse note. "Yeah, you can do the fucking part."

After he was well fed and fresh from the shower, he crawled up the bed toward me. The towel barely held its knot low on his lean hips. His hand cruised along the inside of my thigh, heat seeping in beneath the black leathers.

"You always wear leathers to Mosh . . ."

"Yeah. They make me look mean."

He started laughing like that was the funniest fucking thing he'd ever heard.

Rolling him over, I tore the towel away. "You think that's funny? I'm the big bad bouncer, remember?"

He linked his hands behind my neck, kissing a path to my ear. "You're the least mean person I've ever met. My gentle giant."

We stayed awake far longer than was smart, shooting the shit about our upbringings. My strict Midwestern rearing that might've had something to do with me cowarding out about coming out about my gayness. His easy come easy go bayou childhood that had come to a crashing end when his folks died in a house fire, leaving him—sixteen years old and not at all legal—to look after his younger brother.

Everything about Jack was so temporary, so fleeting; it was painful to see him sitting across from me on the bed, in my bedroom. I wanted to tie him up and make him stay with his untarnished soul and his beautiful heart, his rough voice and his wild-at-heart songs.

He'd replaced the towel with a pair of my sweats he seemed to have adopted, and I did the same at some point during the night. And now we sat, my eyes growing heavy while he scribbled in one the many notebooks spilling from his open backpack. He drummed his fingers against his thigh and chewed the end of a sharp pencil that had some flashy cartoon design on it. Maybe it was another of his bargain bin post-Christmas finds. A smile flitted across his face when he sent a sidelong glance at me. Then he shook his head and bent back over the rapidly filling page.

I yawned and stretched, patting the bed beside me to see if he'd crawl up and inside. And be next to me. "What's that?"

"Oh. I just write my lyrics in here." He glanced at me again, coy instead of direct for a change.

"Are you blushing?"

He smirked, looking down at the pad. "I'm writin' you a song."

What is he doing to me? I had to admit to myself . . . I was falling in love. What a stupid thing to do with a man like him, who couldn't be nailed down and most assuredly was gonna walk right out of my life.

But the way my heart filled at his shy admittance, I just couldn't seem to give a shit. "Can you fuck me without a condom tonight?"

His eyes blinked up and the wide blue shock was swiftly taken over by pupil-blown arousal. Rougher than ever, his voice sent shockwaves of desire directly to my cock. "I can do that. I'm clean. I spend a lot of time at hospitals, I get tested regularly."

Another worrying fact to stow away and mull over during the hours he went missing from my life.

He'd moved his redone Christmas tree into my bedroom because he liked the lights and the fact it was ours. With just those twinklers to light the way, Jack made out with me and sucked me until everything—the lights, his dancing eyes, his rakish grin—was a blur.

When he entered me, it was face to face for the first time. That first long thrust made me cry out and stretch for more. For him. Forever. I hoped I never stopped falling for him.

Curling over me with my thighs pushed up and out, he murmured sweet sexy nothings between a million wet hot kisses. Beb, and cher, and wanna get closer, crawl inside you, never leave you.

He kissed all over my throat and his breath gusted against my ear. His eyes blazed, the pulse in his throat jumping. "This isn't fucking."

I sucked in a breath, keeping my eyes open and on his as long as I could. "I know, baby."

He slid deeper. His voice registered like a hypnotic drug to my soul, "I'm makin' love to you, cher."

It was intense and emotional and so completely right to be made love to by Jack, I had no choice but to groan and gasp and come just after those words. He held me up to him, getting as close as he could without inhabiting my skin like he did my heart. A heart that thundered with every thick hot pulse of his uncaptured seed inside of me.

Marking me.

Branding me.

Owning me to my very soul.

Stay tuned for chapter four...



Jingle Bell Rock Ch. 04



4

The Famous Jack Houdini Act

In the morning, it was heaven waking up with Jack still in my arms. Black hair hid his face while I watched—no—while I stared at him. It was closer to lunchtime, really. Birds chirping, the sun cascaded in creating humid warmth under the covers where our bare skin touched. The hardness of his male body draped over mine did a number on my morning wood.

He scrunched his nose and slipped off me to cuddle his pillow to his face. A smattering of wrinkles from the bed covers lined his cheek. I kissed his neck up to his mouth, lingering until he smiled. Under the shock of his jet-colored hair, hazy blue eyes winked out.

My hand drifted down his back—up and down—taking the sheet and blankets with me until they pooled beneath the amazing sleek crescents of his ass and the perfect rounds of his balls.

"Wan' me to fuck you again?" His voice was lazy, sleepy.

My finger slid slowly into the crease between those tight muscular cheeks and Jack's eyes widened then narrowed. "Oh, you wanna fuck my ass, Brian?"

Just him saying it was enough to make my cock drip a drop of pre-ejaculate from the tip. I didn't need to answer. I pushed a little harder on the ring of muscle instead.

Getting into place above him, I homed in on his back. Kissing and nipping the tight sinews, I murmured, "I swear I could write a song about you."

"Yeah?"

"How soft your skin is, but how hard your muscles are underneath." I kissed my way down his back. Watching Jack's fingers clutch the blankets, I listened to his breathless moan that dipped and licked and curled around my cock like his tongue had.

"Your voice. When you sing and it gets so low it's almost a growl. That's what you sound like when you come."

I clasped his cheeks and pulled them open, my gaze pinpointed on his pucker. His hips thrust up when I tickled him with my breath. I set about suckling his beautiful balls first.

Jack's forehead thumped against the pillow.

I eased up with my tongue, drizzling saliva along his hot, sexy crack at the same time I pulled his cock back toward his feet. Grasping, stroking, handling the heft of him, I felt him get harder.

"Your hair that hides your bright blue eyes, and the way you smile at me . . ." I bit and licked his ass. "Your dirty little grin. Your arms, your wrists, your fingers. Your face. Your fucking beautiful ass." Reaching underneath, I raised him up. "This amazing cock. Especially when it's throbbing in my hand or in my hole or coming in my mouth."

"Ooh yeah. Bri, Jesus."

I grabbed the lube, popped the cap. Spreading it over and around and into him, I almost chewed my lip clean through with the need to be inside him. I did every move he did to me and managed to bump his prostate over and over until he whimpered.

Cock lathered in a coat of lubricant, I teased him by tapping his entrance with the head of it.

"C'mon, man . . ." He begged.

"Maybe I'll just eat you some more."

"Brian, cher." I loved how his voice got even deeper and shaky.

Watching his hot little hole bloom open in invitation, I slid inside—the tip popping through his ring of tissue first. "Not your first time."

"Unhh. No." Jack's hips twisted for more cock. "Been a while since I had anything in there though."

I stopped because my nads clenched so fast I almost came at the idea of . . . "Anything?"

"Dildo, butt plug, sometimes beads . . ."

Straining above him, sweating . . . I talked through rigid lips. "Beads? Jesus Christ, Jack, don't say shit like that. You're gonna make me blow."

"Oh no you don't. Not until you get that fucking big cock all the way in me and pound me into the mattress."

I took it slow because goddamn right I was gonna enjoy every second of being inside him, every sound that expelled from him, and every inch of velvet suction convulsing around my fully shafted dick. He writhed and begged and whined. Nothing had ever felt so good, looked so fucking mind-blowingly hot, or sounded so erotic as his noises and the slap of my cock filling him up.

I kept a slow pace of deep forceful thrusts. When I was sure he was out of his head with arousal, I reached around to take his throbbing cock in hand. One pump, two, he came with a shattering yell.

Pulling him back onto my lap, I held him against my chest while he shuddered against me. Deep inside, he clenched all around me. Jack whimpered and groaned, coming more and longer than ever before until it was everywhere. The tang of it filled my nose. The silky feel of it filled my palm. I smeared it up his chest and hung onto him.

"Merde, beb. Such a romantic."

Not at that point. I pushed him forward and withdrew. Scooping up his come, I slathered my cock with it. I slammed back into Jack. Ferocious, unrestrained, out of control, I fucked his own come into his ass until I blasted off inside. Our comingled release ran out of him and down his thighs, onto my shivering balls.

I slumped over him, catching my breath.

Jack's wicked grin in side view was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes.

"Did I say romantic? Bri, you are one hot dirty fuck."

At that point my brain said Whoa before blinking out of existence.

****

We worked out a routine of sorts. Jack came home with me the next night he had a gig at Mosh. He showed up on my doorstep in the wee hours of the morning the night in between. His backpack and freakin' guitars still traveled with him, but he didn't skip out without breakfast in his belly, a kiss on my lips—usually a grope and a blowjob too for good measure—and a promise to come back.

That was all I was gonna get. I'd take it.

And I had his phone number. I tried not to text the shit out of him but his constant one-word raunchy slingers made it worth losing some of my well-armed, 'don't need anybody' attitude.

Alarm bells went off for me when he skipped his gig on the twenty-ninth of December. The man never missed a spot, and his band showed up. He was the only one MIA.

Jane cornered me in the corridor between the club and her office—chunky blond hair in hand-razed disarray like mine. "You heard from your toyboy tonight?"

"No."

"Last night?"

"Yeah."

"This ain't like him." Her brows skewered together. "Have you thought about checkin' the hospitals?"

He spends a lot of time at hospitals. Why is he always at hospitals, and homeless, and fucking sleep deprived?

"I gotta go." I was already halfway out the door when I looked back at Jane. She nodded me away, a hand raised to her mouth.

I didn't call Roper or MUSC. That would waste too much time. I jumped in my truck and peeled out, speeding to the cluster of downtown hospitals. My hands shook on the steering wheel.

I hit one then the other and the next, getting no answers from the emergency room or reception staff. At MUSC, I double-parked. I ran across the street, almost colliding face first with an ambulance, and careened inside.

"Someone called Cotille here?" I tried to be polite instead of pounding my fist on the desk that sectioned me off from a bank of computers that held all the info I needed.

"Are you family?"

Close enough it felt like it. My nerves crawled across my skin. "A brother." Lover. Boyfriend. Whatever.

Leaning across the desk, I shoved an ID under the receptionist's nose and stared at the screen of her computer. Seventh floor. Room 756. Cotille, J.

Jesus Christ!

I raced to the elevators, ignoring her shouts. "Visiting hours are over!"

Push-push-pushing the button as if my finger was a trigger, I almost fell inside when the elevator arrived. Going up too slowly for my liking, I paced the square space until the doors open and I rushed out. The hospital was a maze, one hall splitting into another that got me no closer to Jack.

My heart pounded. It could've been as loud as my heavy boots on the waxed floors.

Finally. Room 756.

Oh God, oh fuck. Something that sounded like a bilge pump did the work of breathing for the patient inside. Too pussy to go in head on, I peeked inside. And my heart climbed up to my throat. Jack was there all right. But he wasn't the patient.

My momentary relief was crushed by dread.

He held the hand of an equally stunning young man in the bed, no less gorgeous in spite of his emaciated form. His was a more haunting beauty than Jack's lively features. Jack tenderly stroked his cheek. He kissed the sleeping prince on his forehead as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. The hushed whispers he murmured dissolved into sobs when he cried in a sudden heap over the man.

"You can pull through this. Don't die on me, beb."

Beb, the same endearment he called me when he made love to me.

I bent over from the waist, unseen from inside the room. Arms crossing my stomach, I held the screaming agony at bay, the wracking pain of betrayal deep inside my body. I stumbled away, half blind. The wall beneath my hand was the only solid thing holding me up. Close to losing my lunch in the middle of the antiseptic-smelling hallway, I lurched for the elevator. Just before the doors closed me in, I saw the plaque on the wall opposite me. 7th Floor: Adult Oncology

Knowing Jack's lover—his partner—had cancer almost made it impossible to hate him.

Almost.

Stay tuned for chapter five...



Jingle Bell Rock Ch. 05



5

Knock-Knock. Fuck Off.

Jane called and left messages. She wanted to know if I'd located Jack, if he was okay. My reply text was a terse explanation of the situation, and I only sent it because I didn't want her to worry about him.

I holed up in my apartment. I blinked back stupid tears and stared at the bare bulb above the kitchen table until the white recessed light blurred red and burned into my retinas, drying the surface of my eyes.

Jack had texted me too. He must've found time to leave his lover's bedside. He probably wanted to make sure he had a place to bunk down later. I did not reply to him. He cottoned on quick that something was wrong because the upbeat tone of his texts quickly turned anxious . . . then pleading. What's wrong, cher? Are you okay? I'll be there soon.

Good. Let him be the one worrying for a change.

I should've texted back that he wasn't welcome, no need to turn up for his nightly fuckfest with Beef. I didn't. Part of me—childish, selfish, and spiteful—wanted to see his face when I told him I was onto his game and I wasn't gonna be his sucker anymore. I wanted to see if the end of our short affair tortured him as much as it did me. I wanted to hurt him.

I eventually turned off my cell after calling in sick to work—a first. I went on a bender, drinking beers and baking goddamn muffins. Slamming sticky bowls into the sink, because I knew I wouldn't lay my fists on Jack, I filled crackling muffin papers and tin upon tin of gooey blueberry batter. When the kitchen got overheated, I jerked up a window and hung my head outside in the crisp air. I gulped in icy breaths that froze in my lungs and made my heart run sluggish.

Jack showed up on my doorstep, way earlier than usual that night. He knocked and waited. Pounded and waited. I peered out the peephole just to see his distraught features, the handsome angles twisted in anguish. My fists curled into big slabs that could pummel and bruise but had always cherished and caressed him, even when the fucking got exquisitely rough.

He could stay out there all night for all I cared. There was nothing I could give him he didn't already have, including my heart. Tears leaked down my face. I wiped my nose.

The rap at my door didn't let up and then he really got pissed, shouting, "Brian goddamn Carroway, open this motherfuckin' door right now!"

I swung the door open so hard it bounced back and almost smacked Jack in the face.

Good.

Up close he looked even worse. Sunken eyes, sallow skin, he looked like shit.

Even better.

I didn't move out of the way or invite him inside. "No, no, no. You are not coming in."

He skimmed his hair back. I bit my tongue, opening and balling my fists again. The ever-present ache for him eviscerated me.

"Jane said you went to the hospital lookin' for me. Then you didn't turn up at work."

I slammed my hands against doorframe. "Do you have any fucking idea how scared I was about you?"

"What did you see, Brian?"

I gritted my teeth. I looked away from his enchanting lying eyes. "I'm sorry your other boyfriend's sick, but—"

"Brian."

"I can't do this!" I grabbed his collar and pulled him close. "Don't you get it? You made me fall in love with you!"

I shoved him away, ignoring his choked gasp.

"You need money for his hospital bills . . ." I watched a sole tear slide down his cheek. "Get in touch with me through Jane. But don't contact me again."

I slammed the door in his face.

I cut out my heart. I closed my eyes. I cried.

He railed on my door, thundering against it. "You don't know what you're talkin' about! You think I go home with guys every night, Brian? You think I give it up for just anyone?"

No, I think you have someone you love already, and I'll never be that person for you.

I heard him slide down the door and hit the floor. I imagined him sitting the same as me—head down, knees up, eyes clamped shut. Parted by only my thin door, the distance between us was wider than any gulf.

I heard his whisper: "You made me feel like I was worth somethin'."

I listened to him falling apart on the other side.

I got wasted.

Stay tuned for the finale, chapter six . . .



Jingle Bell Rock Ch. 06