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Everything He Wants

Copyright

 2013 by Megan Slayer

ISBN: 978-1-61333-618-2

Cover art by Fiona Jayde

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of
this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other
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Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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UUL

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One More Night

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Everything He Wants

A 1Night Stand Story

By

Megan Slayer

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~Dedication~

Flash—thanks for finding the picture and starting the wheels turning.

VN, HL, SB, JPF—for having fun with the boys.

JPZ—hopefully I stay everything you want.

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Everything He Wants

1

Chapter One

“You do realize you’ve got to settle down sooner or later?”
Trace held the phone from his ear and he rolled his eyes as if she could see

him. Trust his twin sister, Joya, to know everything, even over the telephone. He
sighed, but she continued talking, obviously ignoring his frustration.

“You can’t do the single thing forever.” She groaned. “Are you even listening to

me? You aren’t saying a word.”

“I can swing the single life as long as I want.” He drummed his fingers beside

his laptop. “Besides, you don’t know everything.”

“Oh no?”
He hated when she used her high-pitched, sister-knows-best voice. “Besides

pissing me off with the subscription to not one, but three dating sites, you
underestimate your dear older brother.” And make me want to rip my hair out.

“It’s not hard, and you’re only older by three minutes.” She snorted. “You’ve

never dated the same guy for more than a month. Two is stretching things.”

“Bullshit,” he muttered halfheartedly and sagged in his seat. His sister knew

him too damn well. Screw it. He had a plan. “I’ve got a blind date. Tonight.”

The line went dead. Or she’d dropped over. One of the two. He grinned and

continued, “I signed up for Madame Eve’s 1Night Stand service. She worked
wonders for one of my friends at the airport. He’s thrilled. Anyway, I signed up
and she sent the email tonight.”

“The email?” Another snort. “This chick works through email? You’ve got to be

kidding me. You can’t trust an email, T.”

“You know everything and nothing at the same time. Madame Eve works. I

promise. She sent me the magic email telling me when and where I’ll find my
heart’s delight.” He placed the phone on the bed and switched it to speaker,
bringing up the email at the same time. Tonight is the night. I feel it.” He read the
words again. You will find your heart’s desire. How could Madame Eve be
wrong?

Megan Slayer

2

“Oh.” Joya stayed quiet for a long time. “Cool.”
“You doubted I could find a date?” He sat back on the bed and crossed his

ankles. “I’m not a dumb kid.”

“Nope, but I feel like I have to pick up after your various disasters. Your track

record still stinks.”

Fuck. Pegged again. He stared at his socks. Dingy, gray and in need of being

thrown out...just like his life. Picking an outfit for work? Not a problem. Putting
together something reasonable for a controller meeting? Piece of cake. Getting
his love life in order? Mission impossible. He touched the polished moonstone he
wore on the thin strip of leather around his neck. This time, things would be
different. He’d find a guy worthy of sticking with, and they’d make a life together.
He hoped.

You will find your heart’s desire.
“Are you listening to me?” Joya crabbed.
“Maybe I’m trying a different course, J. You never know. I might be listening to

you when you preach at me to settle down.” Not really, but what she didn’t know
wouldn’t hurt her.

“You are not.”
He shrugged. “You’re right. I tune you out. But I am tired of being alone.”
“Good luck then, Trace. I’m rooting for you. I’ve got to go. Stacey’s here for our

run.” She clicked off the line, leaving him in silence.

“Yeah.” He closed his laptop. “Here’s to me.” He pressed the buttons on his

phone to power saving mode and stared at his closet. Eve had also told him to
wear something yellow. Yellow? His heart raced. Four coat racks full of dress
clothes, but not much for clubbing. What were the options? Too bright and the
look screamed, needy. Too dull and the guy would think the same thing—boring.
Damn it. He rubbed his clammy palms on his jeans legs. What to wear? And who
would he be seeing?

He’d asked for a nice guy. One who liked classic rock and shopping at thrift

stores, but wasn’t self-absorbed or grungy. Someone who could make him laugh,
hold him when he cried, and be his friend no matter what. He thought about what

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Everything He Wants

3

he’d written on his form. Jeremy Landon. The guy featured prominently in his
fantasies. He’d begged Madame Eve to hook them up.

A shiver ran up his spine. He’d run into Jeremy twice, and sparks flew each

time. The first time they’d met, Jeremy had tripped down the stairs leaving the
hockey game and landed in Trace’s arms. Blushed the prettiest shade of red. They
talked and shared highlights of the game and promised to call each other. When
he got home he couldn’t find the slip of paper in his pocket. No number meant no
contact. He chuckled to himself. How lucky could he be to find a guy who fit into
his preferences for a sub, too? Damn lucky. But what was the chance Jeremy
would be his date?

Fuck.
Trace pictured his crush and shivered. Tall with blond hair, tipped in vibrant

green. Tattoos down both arms, and a piercing in his lip. Was Jeremy pierced
anywhere else? Oh, and the perpetual ripped-jeans look. The guy screamed free-
spirited rebel.

Trace crossed the room and yanked all the yellow clothes he owned out of the

closet. “Too bright, too tacky.” He threw a vintage paisley button-down on the
floor. “Too...much.” He scrubbed his hands over his face then glanced at the
poster of Cary Grant on the wall. What would he wear? Cary Grant went for
simple and elegant. Clubbing didn’t jive with elegance, but simple worked.

“Simple and casual.” He found what he wanted—a form-fitting yellow T-shirt

he’d forgotten about. Without looking tacky, it had the right amount of thin spots
designed into it to give glimpses of his body. “Perfect.” Paired with his frayed
jeans, he’d rock the club.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His pulse fluttered. “Tonight, I will

make a statement and get my man.”

Whoever he is.

Jeremy sat in the back seat of the cab and swayed forward as it came to a quick

stop opposite Club Ramrod. What a crazy name for a club. Then again, what a
crazy place to meet his date. He checked the messages on his phone one more
time. Sure enough, the same email from Madame Eve popped up.

Megan Slayer

4

Your date awaits you at Club Ramrod, located next to the Mason Players

Club Hotel. Look for yellow by the bar and you will find your heart’s delight.
Tell the bouncer Eve sent you.

He sighed and paid the driver with a shaky hand. His mind wouldn’t stop

racing. What the hell did I get myself into? Sure, the club scene worked for him,
but he hated the grind. Hated the clawing bodies and hangers-on. Crossing the
street, he took his place in line. Maybe no one would recognize him. Finally
reaching the club entrance, he dropped Madame Eve’s name to the bouncer.

The hulking man nodded and shuffled him to the bar. “Don’t cause a fight.”
Don’t cause a fight? Did he look like the type to cause trouble? Well, I did

change my hair from green to blue tips. Jeremy snorted. Whatever. He scanned
the crowd in the massive black and white bar. Men talked, laughed and cuddled,
others sat on their lover’s laps. At the far end, he spotted a flash of yellow. His
heart pounded faster and his mouth went bone-dry.

“No fucking way,” he murmured, nibbling on his lip piercing.
Trace Robeson, the man who featured in every one of his naughty fantasies,

clutched a beer and hooked his thumb in his jean’s front pocket. The man oozed
classy sex. A faded T-shirt cradled his body like a second skin, giving teasing
glimpses at the chiseled flesh underneath. His ripped jeans cupped and outlined
his package.

Jeremy wobbled on his feet and thanked the gods, or Madame Eve, or

whoever, for granting him his wish, and strode across the club. Making eye
contact with Trace, he grinned.

“Hey, man. Good seeing you here.” Trace offered his hand.
“Yeah. It’s nice to see a friendly face.” Jeremy gestured the bartender for a

beer. “I’m here to meet my destiny.”

“Are you....” Trace didn’t finish.
“Your date?” Jeremy replied. “I’m looking for a man in yellow. Don’t see too

many others rocking that color, so….” Christ, he sounded so lame.

“I was told my date would find me.” Trace matched his smile. “Want to

dance?”

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Everything He Wants

5

“Yeah.” They threaded through the crowd. Gyrating bodies pulsed with the

heavy beat, pushing him and Trace together. Trace cuddled up behind him and
draped his arms around Jeremy’s torso, holding his hips and kissing the back of
his neck. Each touch, each caress, ignited more sparks of desire. He couldn’t
breathe, but refused to slow down. Dressed in casual wear, Trace personified sex.
The jeans molded to his legs and the shirt showcased the muscles of his chest.
Yum.

The more he moved with Trace, the more he wanted to go to the back room

and fuck him.

“You’re so badass.” Trace’s words tickled in his ear. “Rough around the edges

and sexy.”

Lust flowed through his veins. Oh, how little Trace knew about him. Badass on

the outside, but a softie behind closed doors.

Other people pushed and knocked into them while they danced to the

blistering techno beat. Jeremy turned and pressed chest-to-chest, and groin-to-
groin, with Trace.

“We need a room.” He tugged him to the far end of the expansive bar. A line of

private rooms lined the wall. A green light over the door of the room at the end
indicated it was free. “This one.”

They sprinted toward it and rushed in. The private space, no bigger than a

glorified closet, featured bright light and three walls of mirrors.

Jeremy locked the door. “I want you to want me.” Fuck in a straw basket,

what a damn cliché! “I mean....”

Before he could rephrase, Trace pinned him to the wall. “I do.” He leaned in

close, his mouth a whisper away. “Very much I do.” He feasted on his mouth and
licked the ring on his lip. “Never kissed a guy with a piercing.” His fingers
wandered down and pinched his chest through the thin fabric of his T-shirt,
putting pressure on the barbell in his nipple. His eyes widened and he toyed with
the balls at the end of the stud. “This is hot.” Trace tugged lightly on the barbell.
“Good?”

“Yeah.” A moan bubbled in his throat. He writhed under Trace’s touch.

“More,” he groaned.

Megan Slayer

6

“You got it.” Trace chuckled and slid to his knees, popping the button on

Jeremy’s jeans. The denim parted and his cock strained against the cotton of his
boxer briefs.

“Looks like you’re hard for me.” Trace palmed his dick. “So hot.”
Open-mouthed kisses rained down on his erection and stole Jeremy’s breath.

He slapped the wall and panted. “Take me in.” He arched his back, offering his
cock. Taking control of the situation didn’t suit him, but being with Trace sure
did.

With a wide grin, Trace glanced up at Jeremy. His dark eyes shone. Easing his

cock and balls from the slit in his underwear, Trace flicked his tongue over the
blunt head. Electricity zapped Jeremy and he jolted. Being with Trace was better
than a new tat and sexier than he ever imagined.

“Fuck.” He threaded his fingers through Trace’s hair and tugged. It’d been

more than a month since he’d had head, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell
Trace. His balls ached, his skin prickled and he had to brace against the wall for
support.

“I won’t let you fall.” Trace gripped the base of his prick and opened his mouth

to take Jeremy in.

A man as pretty as Trace shouldn’t be on his knees—he should be commanding

the situation. Or posing for him. Oh, hell, yeah. He wanted Trace nude and
posing for one of his portraits.

The heat, combined with the gentle touch and the mental image of the tanned

man naked, sent Jeremy to the edge. Flutters started low in his belly and his
blood thumped in his ears. His legs trembled. Christ. Trace had barely begun to
mouth-fuck him. Jeremy writhed and pumped. “This won’t last long.”

Trace pulled away. “Good, because I want you.”
Those two words tipped Jeremy the rest of the way into ecstasy. He jerked

forward and spurted down Trace’s throat. From head to toe, he wobbled. The
throbbing music underscored their frantic actions and he loved it.

Rising, Trace embraced him, holding him up. “So good.” He kissed him and

added, “You taste like honey. The private room here is fun, but I can’t wait to take
this upstairs. Come with me?”

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Everything He Wants

7

Jeremy stuffed his flaccid dick back into his jeans. “Yeah.” Thank God for the

blow job, no matter how short. He’d needed the quickie to gather his wits.

Trace led him back onto the main floor. “I don’t want to dance, do you?”
Jeremy shook his head. What else could he say? He wanted to explore the dips

and valleys of Trace.

A huge hand appeared on Trace’s shoulder and yanked him backward.
“What the hell?” Jeremy scowled. “Too many people in here.” He turned

around to see a big guy pulling Trace away. “Oh, hell no.” He snatched Trace’s
hand. He wasn’t letting his lover go without a fight.

“Where have you been?” The man with the meaty fingers gave Trace a shake

and tossed a glare toward Jeremy. “And who the hell is this?” His lip curled in a
sneer and sweat slid down his temple. “Huh?”

“My date.” Trace said. “Find a tree and climb it, Yancy.” Facing Jeremy, he

squeezed his hand and marched away.

“Who was that?” Jeremy dreaded the answer, but needed to know. Yes, he self-

medicated with the quickies he’d had before, but Trace definitely wasn’t just a
means to salve his wounded soul.

“Nobody to worry about.” Trace kept moving through the crowd.
“He’s the past?”
“A mistake I learned from,” Trace said in his ear. “But you’re not a mistake.

You’re just what I wanted.”

“So are you.” Jeremy pulled him to a halt, threw his arms around his neck and

kissed him. The sizzling connection melted every synapse in his brain. He
moaned into Trace’s mouth and his cock responded, thickening behind his
zipper.

Fuck. They needed to find the closest bedroom.
“Jesus.” Trace groaned and rested his forehead on Jeremy’s. “I like it.” The

bulge behind his fly bumped Jeremy’s and a fresh wave of desire spiraled through
him. “We should take this upstairs.”

Jeremy couldn’t agree more. “Lead the way.”

Megan Slayer

8

Chapter Two

Holy shit. Trace bit back the whoop building in his throat as he palmed his

pants pocket for the key to the room he’d reserved earlier on a whim. Next on the
agenda: sex with his tattooed stud.

“Let’s go.” Lacing his fingers with Jeremy’s, he wove through the crowd.
Yancy glared at him from the bar, but even the threat of his ex being there

didn’t slow him down. Hell, nothing would break his high spirits. Not tonight.
Then again, he couldn’t believe Yancy had butted in. The fucktard knew they’d
never have sex, or anything else, again. Not when he’d threatened to beat the shit
out of Trace the last time he’d seen him.

Trace and Jeremy sprinted through the lobby of the Club Ramrod to the

adjacent Mason Players Club Hotel. He fished the card from his pants and
slipped it into the magnetic key slot.

“Where are we going?”
“To my room.” Trace squeezed Jeremy’s hand. “For the rest of our date.”
“Nice.” He nibbled on the ring piercing his lip.
People strolled behind them, milling around the lobby. None of them mattered

but Jeremy. Once the elevator doors closed, Trace pounced, shoving him against
the wall and planting another deep kiss on him. He sucked his bottom lip into his
mouth.

“Fuck, yeah,” Jer murmured.
The bell dinged, and the doors slid open on the ninth floor.
“I’ve never done something like this before,” Jeremy blurted. “A one-night

stand in a fancy hotel.”

“Neither have I.” Together, they padded across the thick carpet. “Well, I’ve had

my share of quickie dates.”

“Oh,” Jeremy cleared his throat, “me, too.”
Trace stole a glance at him as they walked down the hallway. He needed him to

know their date wasn’t a quickie. “But I’m not looking for a meaningless hook-up.

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Everything He Wants

9

This is my first time using 1Night Stand. My friend Carlton said Madame Eve
worked wonders for him, so I gave her a shot.”

“Works for me,” Jeremy said, sounding relieved.
Stopping at room 922, Trace slid the card in the key slot and swung the door

wide. Light spilled out, and the scent of strawberries filled the air. “Wow.” He
strolled in then stopped. Jeremy crashed into the back of him, but he didn’t care.
“This is wicked cool.”

He wandered through the luxurious space. Landscape paintings adorned crisp

white walls, and there were enough chrome fixtures to make a car detailer
jealous. An ice-filled bucket chilling a bottle of champagne, waited on a glass-
topped desk. The fragrant strawberries with whipped cream sat on a plate beside
it. He hadn’t eaten since noon and his stomach rumbled.

“This is very cool.” Jeremy lifted the bottle, read the label then placed it back

in the ice. “Tonight is for our heart’s delight, right?”

“Yes.”
He wiped the condensation on his pants legs. “I’ve wanted this date since the

night we met.” His eyes glittered. “I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

“Well, this is our 1Night Stand. We can do with it whatever we want.” Trace

folded his arms. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Whatever you want. I’m not big on holding the control. As long as we’re both

happy, I’m good.”

“Get undressed. I want to see all of you.” He glanced around the space.

Strawberries. He could use those as interesting sensory items.

Jeremy hiked the tight shirt up over his head, and folded the garment. He

popped the button on his pants. They sagged and landed in a pile at his feet. His
cock bulged from behind his briefs.

Tattoos decorated his pale body, with sleeves of colorful artwork on both arms

and a bloodied heart emblazoned on his right pectoral. A thick barbell pierced
each nipple.

Trace’s mouth watered. He’d never seen a sexier man. “More.”
A deep blush spread across Jeremy’s cheeks. He shoved his briefs to the floor,

removed his socks and fell to his knees at his Trace’s feet.

Megan Slayer

10

“Good, but we’re not in a scene. I don’t want to play.” Trace popped the cork

on the bottle of champagne and let a ribbon of froth spurt over Jeremy’s colorful
shoulders. “Tonight is for having fun.”

“Yeah.” Jeremy shivered when the cold liquid hit, and moaned, his rigid cock

bouncing.

“That,” Trace said and grinned, “wasn’t supposed to happen.” He bent and

kissed him on the lips. “But you’re hot as hell covered in the sweet stuff.” He
licked a path through some of the bubbly. “Tastes good, too.”

“Thank you.”
Trace liked a man with confidence, but in Jeremy he also sensed unleashed

passion, fury and fear battling within.

“Let’s go non-traditional.” He picked up a strawberry and bit into it. The

sugary taste exploded in his mouth. Settling beside Jeremy, he tilted his head
back and kissed him. When he broke the connection, he added, “Tell me what
you’re feeling and if you like this.”

“You taste like strawberry.” He smiled.
“Here.” Trace drew a circle around Jeremy’s mouth with his tongue. “Have

some.”

He sighed and closed his eyes, darting his tongue over his lips. Another moan

rumbled.

Delight and desire coursed through Trace. He loved watching his man enjoy

himself. Rubbing the half-eaten berry over Jeremy’s nipples, he licked the sticky
juices. The combination of salt from his his skin complemented the sugary fruit.
He tugged at the piercings, then watching his lover’s eyes as he dragged another
berry down his shaft.

Jeremy jerked. “Jesus.”
“Cold?” Trace nuzzled the hard muscle of his chest.
“Sexy.”
“Yeah?” Trace licked his erection, lapping at the sweetness. He flicked his

tongue across the blunt head, each touch bringing a new groan from Jeremy’s
lips. Then he swallowed him to the hilt, burying his nose in the springy curls at
the base of his cock.

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Everything He Wants

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“Trace,” Jeremy bit out. “Oh.”
Trace bobbed his head, increasing the suction. He glanced up. The tattoo on

Jeremy’s chest rose and fell with each breath, the muscles in his jaw clenching
and unclenching.

Moving from dick to sac, Trace tasted and explored the soft skin. With one

hand he tapped his lover’s asshole while stroking his cock with the other,
wrenching another whimper from him.

“Too much,” Jeremy panted.
“Not enough,” Trace replied between licks. Releasing his tender grasp on his

balls, he swatted his inner thigh. “On the bed.”

Jeremy only stared at him and swayed on his knees.
“Didn’t hear me?” Trace patted the mattress. “Come here.”
Jeremy blinked twice, then his eyes widened. He crawled across the floor to

the bed. “You’re good.”

“We’re really good together.” Trace slapped his lover’s ass. “And now this,”

another slap, “is mine.”

Jeremy wobbled on his hands and knees. He didn’t believe in love at first sight,

but lust at third encounter? Now that he bought in to. The air traffic controller
knew the right moment to push and the exact time to try something different. He
glanced over his shoulder at Trace. How’d he get so lucky to find a handsome guy
who didn’t act like a domineering prick? The dating service? He doubted it, but
then again, he’d asked for a perfect match.

Trace picked up a bottle of lube and a condom packet. “What do I want to do

with you next?” He left the bottle between Jeremy’s knees. “Spank you? Maybe a
couple of times? I can make you suck me off. Not all the way, but get me nice and
wet. Maybe.” He trailed his palm down Jeremy’s side “I know.” He raked his nails
over the tender flesh. “On your back. I want to look in your eyes.”

Jeremy froze. He always kept sex impersonal for very personal reasons. A

stress reliever, never involving emotions. But Trace wanted more. What the hell?
This was a date—not a deep-down connection. Maybe he wanted his heart
involved—maybe he was ready.

Megan Slayer

12

Was he?
More than a little.
He rolled onto his back and spread his knees.
“Scared?” Trace rested his palms on his knees. When Jeremy didn’t reply, he

said, “Talk to me.”

“I’m good.” Liar. God, he hated what he’d become, but he wasn’t ready to talk

about his past with him. What if things went to hell? He focused on the flecks of
gold and green in Trace’s eyes.

“You’re hiding something from me.”
“I’m—this is so sexy,” he lied. “I’m overwhelmed.”
“I see.” He tore the corner of the condom packet. “You don’t have to keep the

shields up. I’m not like the other guys.”

Without a word, Jeremy spread his ass cheeks in invitation.
Trace rolled the condom down his cock and picked up the bottle of lube. “This

is just you, me, and a good time. Yeah?” He knelt at the side of the bed and
squirted the clear fluid onto his hand. Without breaking eye contact, he eased one
digit into Jeremy’s hole.

The breath rushed out of him and he gasped.
“You’re a treasure,” Trace murmured, his voice a soothing rumble. “Flawed,

sexy, and just who I want.” He curled his finger then added another, then
another. Each push widened and loosened him up. Pressure built and flutters
filled his belly. “I’m glad we got this chance.” Trace grinned. “I wouldn’t miss this
for the world.”

Jeremy bore down on him and sighed. He could fall in love with and open up

to a guy like Trace. Head-over-heels, story-book style, forever-in-perfect-land
kind of love. The thought scared him to death.

Trace kissed his dick and pulled out. He stood and crawled on top of him.
“You’re the guy I dreamed of when I asked for this date.” In one push, Trace

breached the tight ring of muscle. Resting on his hands on either side of Jeremy’s
head, he kissed him. “Best date ever.”

He rose up between Jeremy’s thighs and his groans echoing in the room. A

trickle of sweat slipped down his temple and his eyelids drooped.

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Heat coursed through Jeremy and his thoughts blurred. He wrapped his hands

around Trace’s wrists, bringing their bodies closer together. Nothing mattered
but the man above him. He met Trace thrust for thrust. Waves of emotion
slammed through him—lust, desire…love.

“Fuck,” he gasped, focused on Trace’s face. The flutters in his belly turned to

raw tumbling. His balls ached and he needed to come. “So close,” he murmured.
“Close.”

Trace grunted. “Yeah.” His nails dug into Jeremy’s skin and his thrusts

increased.

“Come for me.” Trace yanked on Jeremy’s upper thigh and buried his cock

deep. “Come.”

Jeremy let go of the breath he’d held and gave in to the need to finish. He

climaxed over Trace’s smooth chest.

“Jesus.” Trace slumped on top of him, their sticky bodies sliding against each

other. Bracketing Jeremy’s head between his forearms, he said, “I’m glad I finally
asked for this date.”

Jeremy smiled. He loved the idea of finding his someone. Loved the notion

that one simple date would lead to the best relationship of his life. But he knew
the way things went for him. No. The night was for having fun, not worrying
about tomorrow. He’d have fun while the date lasted.

Megan Slayer

14

Chapter Three

“Shower with me?” Trace offered his hand. “I’m not ready for this to end.”
Jeremy nodded and followed him into the massive bathroom. Chrome gleamed

under the bright light and the scent of cleanser and strawberries permeated the
air. For the first time in his life, things felt right. He bit back a grin. Madame Eve
was a genius, and he owed her a huge debt. The more he and Jeremy spent time
together, the more he wanted him for more than the date. Why hadn’t he tried to
look the man up before? Fortunately, fate had other plans.

He’d found his man—nothing else mattered.
Trace twisted the shower knob and steam billowed from the stall. He breathed

in the damp heat and glanced over at Jeremy. Instead of the strong, confident
man from the club, he kept his head bowed and his gaze low.

“You’re quiet.” Trace led him into the shower stall. “What’s on your mind?” He

grabbed the shower gel bottle and one of the many folded washcloths. “I’m good
at listening and I won’t interrupt.”

The other man picked at the tiles on the wall with his thumbnail and sighed. “I

love having your dick up my ass and being with you in every other way, but I
hardly know anything about you besides what you do.” He dipped his head under
the spray. His hair turned a darker shade of blond and the blue strands stuck to
the sides of his head. “I know this was meant to be one night for us to have
whatever sexual fantasy we want, but I want more.”

“Good. So do I.” Trace held the cloth beneath the water and flipped the cap on

the soap. “What’s the problem?”

“I want to know about the man who captured my attention. Who are you when

no one is looking? You inspire me.”

Drawn to him? Well, hell yes, he’d tell him more. He squirted soap onto the

washcloth and stroked Jeremy’s back, taking extra time to scrub over the tattoo of
the name Landon. “Trace Gavin Robeson. Thirty-five-years old and I work air
traffic control at McCarran. Been there for six years. I love classic rock and old

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Hollywood movies. I don’t hide my sexuality, but I don’t flaunt it at work, either.”
He smoothed the sudsy cloth over Jeremy’s ass. “I lived in Ohio until I was
eighteen then moved out here to Vegas for my degree. I spent time in Minnesota
training for ATC. Winters in Ohio make you hate snow and ice, but the winters in
Minneapolis are even worse. You?”

Jeremy sagged in Trace’s arms. “How do you do it?” He rested his head on

Trace’s shoulder. “You’re easy to talk to, easy to be with, and you seem so laid
back. Doesn’t your job stress you out?”

“It can.” Trace reached around him and scrubbed his nipples. “I

compartmentalize. The job is a job and a huge puzzle. I go in, do the job, go
home. I de-stress by listening to music, working out, and clubbing on my days off.
I date, but I want to find someone to settle down with.”

“Yeah.”
Trace turned him in his arms. Opening his palm over the tattoo of the bloodied

heart on Jeremy’s pec, he asked, “What about you? You wanted to know about
me. What do you do when you’re not meeting up with someone handsome?”

Jeremy took the cloth from his hands and soaped it up again. “I’m an artist.”

The tips of his ears reddened. “Painting, and not just on my skin.” The blush
spread to his cheeks and down his chest. “I paint nudes.”

“That’s awesome.” Trace envisioned him beside a canvas, brushing color over

the white surface. Glee shone in his eyes. Paint sloshed on the floor. Would he be
a madman while he worked, or was he more reserved? Didn’t matter. He wanted
to watch him.

Hell, I might even pose.
“You’re not amused?” Jeremy’s eyes widened. “Most guys think I’m a freak or

they want money. You haven’t even asked about my tats.”

“I thought I’d ask later. Why would someone think you’re a freak? The tattoos?

That’s nuts. They make you original.”

“You might see them that way, but most of my dates think I’m a freak. I’m a

gay man who stares at nude women, and paints them for wealthy clients. I make
good money at it, too. I’m not attracted to the women, they feel safe, and the men
don’t have to worry about me hitting on the models. It’s not what I want to do

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with my life, but it pays the bills. If I had my way, I’d be doing more graffiti art
like I started out doing.”

Graffiti art? Cool. The more Trace heard, the more he appreciated him. Making

the rent mattered more than doing what he loved, too. Then again, he enjoyed
working at the tower, but still, he understood.

“I’m intrigued. I want to see your work.” Damn, there was so much more to the

man than he’d expected.

“I don’t believe you’re the real thing.” Jeremy pinched Trace’s nipple. “You’ve

got to be a dream.”

“Why?” Trace groaned. He loved nipple play, too.
“You’re not going to hit me or demand I suck you off again? No expectation of

money?”

Trace winced. Someone had really done a number on him. “I don’t want your

money or to assault you. I don’t hit people. I watch what my lover is doing and
feeling, and act accordingly. If you’re getting into it then we’re good.”

Jeremy froze, then shook his head and stepped out of the shower stall, his

movements jerky.

Trace rinsed off in a hurry. What the hell just happened? In the space of a few

hours, they’d gone from white-hot sex and dancing, to confessions and
depressing talk. Crazy. He grabbed the closest towel and rushed after him.

“There’s more to this story and I want to know.” He swiped the towel over his

body then tossed it on the floor. “Jer, I’m serious.”

“Don’t want pity.” Jeremy stepped into his briefs. “Not happening.”
“Who said anything about pity? I’ve come to care about you. This—this date

wasn’t because I wanted to get laid. I wanted a night with you, but I didn’t know
how to get in touch with you. I specifically asked Madame Eve to set up a date
with you.” He stilled Jeremy’s hands. “Give me the rest of the night. I don’t want
you to go and I still want to know about those tattoos.” Trace yanked the covers
back on the bed. “Come to bed with me.”

Shoulders sinking, Jeremy crawled onto the mattress beside him. “I’m sorry. I

don’t usually get so emotional.” He rested his head on Trace’s chest.

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Trace hugged him and dragged his fingers through his blond hair. “We don’t

have to talk. We can just lay here.”

He trembled and remained silent for a long time before throwing an arm

across Trace’s stomach. “Mom and I came to Vegas because she wanted to make
it big. She thought she could beat the system and didn’t. We spent so much time
in dump hotels and shelters. So many men wandered in and out of our lives. I
saw more shit than I cared to witness.” He leaned up on his elbow and nodded at
his forearm. “This tattoo reminds me of school. One of Mom’s exes left a box of
charcoal crayons in our apartment. I picked them up and never looked back. I
could hide in my room or lose myself on the streets and draw. I had the label on
the box tattooed onto my forearm so I wouldn’t forget where I came from. I got
arrested a couple times for my art, but I also learned to put it to use doing good
things.”

Trace didn’t speak, but rubbed his palm up and down Jeremy’s shoulder. Talk

about living in crappy circumstances...but Jeremy had made it out alive and
admitted he wasn’t perfect. He respected him even more.

“I made myself go to school so I could get out. I wanted something beyond

what I had.” He shook his head once and smiled. “I went to a performing arts
high school and made a small name for myself with my paintings. Still do. I’ve got
a gallery show down at the YaYa this Thursday. Want to go?”

The YaYa? Hell, the gallery catered to wealth. Having a show there meant the

artist hit a pinnacle. Did he care if Jeremy was famous? No. He liked him with or
without money.

“I’ll be there. If I have to trade shifts to do it, I will.” Trace curled his fingers

under his chin. “Promise.”

Jeremy gritted his teeth to hide a gasp. His smile wobbled and he dipped his

head. Trace was too good to be true. No way could he actually care. Guys didn’t
show such emotions or worry about Jeremy. He always served as a quickie and a
play toy, not a long-term commitment. Maybe Trace was different—he said he
wanted to go to the opening. Jeremy sure as hell hoped whatever they shared was
something more than a simple affair.

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Might as well finish the story.
“I knew since I was a kid I was gay. To medicate myself against my past, I

cruised.” His voice caught. “The emotions got channeled into the artwork and I
escaped through sex. I knew what I liked, but not who I liked.”

“And you like me?” Trace cupped side of Jeremy’s face. The touch sent tingles

through his system.

“I do.” He barely recognized the gravelly sound in his voice.
The dim light sparkled in Trace’s eyes. “Good to know. I’m falling for you, too.”
“You’re not turned off? The tats, the piercing, the crazy-ass hair doesn’t bother

you? My past isn’t stellar and I’ve made some stupid decisions. I’m clean, but not
sparkling clean.” He blinked back tears. Memories flooded back, of the lovers
who’d used him for a punching bag, the risky nightclubbing when he’d ended up
in the hospital, knowing he deserved better but unsure of how to get better. The
tattoos covered up the scars caused by the abuse. His stomach soured and
embarrassment washed over him. Why the hell did he have to be so damned
emotional anyway?

“Forget what I said.” He opened his eyes and turned to leave the bed.
“Wait.” Trace grabbed his wrist. “I’m not turned off at all. We’ve both got

things in our past that we’d rather delete, but mine have made me stronger.
You’re stronger and colorful, too.” He gathered him to his chest and settled on the
pillows. “Stay with me tonight. Sleep and forget about your worries for now. We’ll
work things out in the morning.” He snorted. “I don’t give up easily. Remember?
I’m an air traffic controller. I get paid to put the pieces together and I’d like to be
the one who stands beside you.”

Jeremy closed his eyes and nuzzled Trace’s neck. For the first time in a long

while, his mind eased. Trace could still run out in the middle of the night when he
found out the true extent of his past, but down in his gut, Jeremy didn’t believe
that. No, this was something that could last. He wanted it to last.

He wanted Trace.

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Chapter Four

Jeremy stretched and yawned. He battled sleepless nights all too often, but

when he glanced over at the clock and noticed the time, he smiled. Almost eight
full hours of sleep and with the hottest guy by his side. He palmed Trace’s bare
ass. The tanned man slept in the nude and had kicked the covers off at some
point during the night.

He picked up the pen and notepad on the desk beside the bed and began to

draw. Seeing his lover stretched out and peaceful, brought out his urge to capture
the moment on paper. He wished he’d thought to bring a tablet of newsprint and
a set of pencils.

“So sexy,” he murmured, recreating the muscles of the sleeping man’s back

onto the paper. “Not even a blemish.” He added the gentle curve of Trace’s ass
before adding shadow to the sketch. Within moments, the image morphed from a
simple sketch to a detailed rendering of the man he cared for.

Drawing never took long, but with a sexy, sleeping model posing for him, he

could take his time. Each line and shadow added depth to the image. His heart
squeezed. At least he‘d have the artwork to remind him of the hottest night of his
life.

Beside him, Trace groaned and flopped over on his back. His cock stood at

attention in the thatch of dark hairs. One arm plopped to his side, while the other
ended up across his abdomen. His lips parted and he settled.

Make a move and wake his lover? Or continue to stare?
Jeremy shifted on the bed. “You only live once.” He knelt over Trace and licked

his way from the crown to the base of the tanned man’s dick. Sweat and soap
lingered on his skin. He grinned and continued to explore the buff planes of
Trace’s body. He could use a couple of tattoos or a barbell through his nipple.
Something to break up the seeming perfection.

Jeremy meandered down to Trace’s balls, nipping and sucking the wrinkled

skin. Curling his fingers around the shaft, he stroked in time with his licks.

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“Yeah.”
He glanced up at Trace, who, instead of sleeping, watched him move. “Keep

going. I can feel your piercing on my cock and I love it.”

Emboldened by the words, Jeremy resumed his attentions on Trace’s cock and

balls. Flattening his tongue along the underside of his dick, he massaged his
testicles in his right hand.

“That feels like heaven.” Trace tugged Jeremy’s hair. “I like the way you wake

me up.”

“I can make it better.” He slipped his cock to the back of his throat. He

swallowed and hummed, vibrating the thick length.

“Sweet Jesus.” Trace pumped his hips. “More.”
With a chuckle, he slurped up the precum and traced the blunt head over his

lips. He panted and sucked hard. Trace matched with thrusts of his own, tapping
the back of Jeremy’s throat.

Groaning, Trace dug his feet into the mattress, his grasp on Jeremy’s hair

tightening. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted. “Going to come.”

Jeremy opened his mouth wide and buried his nose at the base of his cock.

Trace tensed beneath him and seed slipped down Jeremy’s throat. He held on for
the ride and swallowed what he gave him.

“Holy shit.” Trace let go and collapsed against the pillows. “You’ve killed me.

You’ve killed me and I like it. A lot.”

Jeremy could hear those words for the rest of his life. He wanted more time

together. More time to explore, to taste, touch and play. “Come home with me.”
He crawled atop his lover. “Let me show you my place and my studio.”

“Won’t that mess up your flow or something? Artists are supposed to be

protective of their space, aren’t they?”

“Some are, sure. I’m picky about who visits my private space. I only bring

people I trust, but I’m dying to show you where I work.” He shrugged. “It’s
strange. I’ll have meetings downstairs in the gathering areas of the shops, but not
in my own apartment.”

Trace nodded. “I’d love to.”

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Half an hour later, they entered the elevators leading to his apartment.

Positive energy flowed through him. He’d begun a new phase in his life, one
where he knew who he wanted and how he wanted to get it. Things couldn’t get
better.

“City Center? Wow.” Trace folded his arms and wandered around the studio

space of the apartment. “You got this on an artist’s salary?” He groaned and
closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. “That sounded really shitty.
I mean, I’ve heard of starving artists, but never met one who lived in a place like
this.” He paused again then raised both hands in the air in apology. “Ignore me.
Apparently I left my manners at the hotel.”

“You’re fine. It’s a shock to most people, me living here. My mother still

doesn’t believe it. She tried to move in with me, but it didn’t work. Too many
demons.” He snorted. “But you asked how I got here. I did some graphic design
for the hotels. They pay well for good work, especially if you work fast.” Jeremy
shrugged then threaded his arms around Trace’s bicep. “It didn’t hurt to know
people, too. The tenants who lived here before me trashed it, so when I applied
for the unit, I agreed to fix it up in exchange for the right to change the living area
into a dedicated studio.”

“You renovated? Very cool.” Trace touched the edge of one of the canvases. He

picked up a brush. “I’m sorry.” He dropped it with a sheepish smile. “I shouldn’t
touch stuff.”

“Feel free,” Jeremy said, then caught sight of one painting he wanted to keep

hidden. He’d forgotten about the personal piece he’d created as a stress reliever,
also inspired from visions in his memory. A shiver streaked up his spine and he
disengaged from Trace. Grabbing a nearby bed sheet covering another painting,
he hurled it over the canvas. The last thing he wanted was for Trace to see it and
think him a maniac or worse.

“What did you hide?” Trace tipped his head to the side. “What’s this?” He held

the hem of the sheet in his fingers. “Something top secret?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded and hoped he looked more confident than he felt. “It’s

nothing.”

“You’re hiding from me again.”

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“How do you know?” He suppressed a wince. Damn it. The man already knew

him too well. “It’s nothing. Just a painting for a client who wants to keep it
private.” Hating the lie, he sucked in a long breath and swiped a hand over his
mouth when he let the breath out.

“I meant you’re keeping something hidden about you, and it’s killing you to

keep your mouth shut. I can see it on your face even when you put your shields
up.”

Fuck.

“So talk to me.” Trace perched on the nearest stool with his hands resting on

his knees. The wounded look in Jeremy’s eyes got to him. How could one man
have so much pride for his home, pride in his work, but still berate himself? “I’m
not leaving this spot until you spill your guts, like it or not.” He crossed his
ankles.

“What do you want to know?” Jeremy stepped between him and the painting

he’d hidden.

The move unnerved Trace. He didn’t mind secrets, but something about the

way Jeremy shifted from confident to uneasy spooked him. His heart sank. He
longed to gather him in his arms and promise things would be fine, but how the
hell did he know if they would be if Jeremy kept his mouth shut? Then again,
maybe he’d been going the wrong way in trying to get his lover to talk.

“I’d rather you know something.” Trace rose and crossed the gap between

them, wrapping his arms around him. “Those guys in your past fucked you up.
The first few times were heaven, and then the real man showed through, right?
And you ended up hurt. I’ll never treat you like they did.” His blood boiled and
fury flowed through his veins. He’d never met the men in Jeremy’s past, but he
both loved and hated them. Loved them for leaving Jeremy, but hated them for
the shitty things they’d done before walking away.

“Maybe,” Jeremy whispered.
“You paid the price for their ignorance.” He sighed. “I’ve never been abused,

but I’ve had my share of being kicked around by life. I refuse to treat anyone like
shit. It’s not who I am.” He kissed him and swiped his tongue over his lip

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piercing. “You’re an amazing man I want to spend a lot more time with.” His
frustration dissipated and love took over. “Crazy but true.”

“I still don’t know how this all worked out.” Jeremy rested his head on Trace’s

shoulder. “I signed up for the service on a whim then answered all those
questions with total honesty. I should’ve ended up with the same kind of jerk, like
I always have. Instead I got you.”

“Madame Eve is smarter than both of us. She matched up our honesty with the

guy we both wanted—each other. Pretty smart.” Trace stroked his cheek and
opened his mouth to kiss Jeremy, but the shrill ring of his phone interrupted.
“I’m sorry.” He slipped the phone from his pocket to silence the call, but the
screen showed his calendar. Work. He gritted his teeth. Things with Jeremy were
so fragile. He didn’t want to leave just yet, but he couldn’t afford to miss work,
either. Fuck.

“What?” Jeremy gripped Trace’s shoulder. “You okay?”
“I’ve got to head to work.” Trace turned the phone around, showing it to the

artist. “I wasn’t sure if our date would work out. I didn’t know you’d be the guy I’d
meet and I switched days off to help my friend.”

“So you’ve got to go?”
“My shift starts in an hour and a half, and I’ve still got to get home to change

my clothes.” His heart ached. “I’m sorry.”

Jeremy shook his head and offered him his hand. “I understand.”
“You do?” Ah, there it was—the kiss-off. The end to the perfect night and all

because he’d gotten cold feet and volunteered for an extra shift.

“You get off in what—eight hours?” Jeremy stroked the hairs at the base of his

neck, the touch sending shivers through him.

“I’ve got a four-to-midnight shift. I’d rather stay here.” Trace groaned and held

him tight to his chest. “This sucks, but I don’t want you to stop what you’re doing.
That feels good.”

“Life happens.” Jeremy smoothed a palm over his cheek. “I look at things this

way: eight hours gives us time to cool down and decide if we want more from
each other. This was a whirlwind date.”

“I do want more.” God, he hated to sound so forlorn and pleading.

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“Yeah?” Mischief flickered in his Jeremy’s eyes. “Then come back. When your

shift is up, hop in a taxi and come back. Or you can drive. Call up and I’ll get you
a parking pass. Either way, I’ll be here waiting.”

“Yeah?” Temporary crisis averted, Trace’s heart rate settled to a more normal

level.

“That’s my line.” He rubbed his burgeoning erection on Trace’s thigh. “The

more I’m around you, the more I want you in my life. Come back. It’s scary and
things are going too fast, but I don’t want them to derail either.”

“You got it.”
Trace and Jeremy rode the elevator down to the ground floor. Jeremy didn’t let

go until the taxi showed up. “I’ll be waiting for you.” He kissed Trace, swiping his
tongue over his top lip.

“I’ll be here.”
Climbing into the back of the taxi, Trace gave the driver his address then

watched out the window until his lover disappeared from sight. The farther the
driver got from the building, the more Trace knew he’d left a part of his heart
with Jeremy. Yeah, he’d be there when his work day ended and he’d show his
artist just how much he meant...all night long.

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Chapter Five

Jeremy waited until the taxi turned the corner and left his line of sight. He

sighed. Having the love of a hot air traffic controller turned him on. Knowing the
same man wasn’t affected by money or mild neuroses, excited him. Trace wasn’t
like the others, and for Jeremy, knowing so tipped the scales in his favor. Maybe
Eve had known what she was doing when she paired them up and sent them both
to the club.

He headed back up to his apartment. Locking the door behind him, he felt the

creative urge strike. He needed to paint. Two drawings he’d nearly completed for
the gallery show sat on his drafting table. He picked up one of a nude man and
woman sitting on a windowsill. Sexy, but not his hankering at the moment. The
other drawing depicted another nude couple cuddled together in front of the
same window, with a gauzy drape obscuring their naked bodies from the waist
down. He remembered the modeling session. The man, a friend of the gallery
owner, had given Jeremy his number and suggested they have a drink together.
The slip of paper with the number fluttered to the floor. He snorted. Taking the
guy up on his invitation would’ve meant skipping the 1Night Stand date.

Funny how the world worked.
He placed a tracing paper cover over the drawing and eased it into his flat

folder. Tonight, the drawings wouldn’t tide him over. Working on something for a
client wouldn’t help either. He glanced at the covered painting. Yeah, he wanted
to add to the haphazard image and finish the idea burning in the back of his
mind.

Jeremy whipped the sheet off the canvas, then picked up his paints and

brushes. The vision of a nude man with dark hair filled the huge blue color field.
He spread red and indigo paints on his palette, opened a bag of sand and a pack
of fresh chalks. The longer he looked at the man on the canvas, the more his
thoughts whirled. Emotions hit him full force—the desire to create, the need to

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expel his energy, the lust in his veins, and love in his heart. He’d found his muse.
He closed his eyes and breathed in and out to compose himself.

Opening his eyes again, he knew what he wanted to do. After saturating the

brush with red paint, he streaked the bold color along the bottom of the canvas.
The blue and red faded into each other and surrounded the figure. He threw sand
in the wet paint, adding dimension to the flat space, then used his palette knife to
cut away areas. Each slash, each swipe of the brush freed him even more. All the
hurt from his past ended up in the gouged marks marring the image. Tears
flowed and he gritted his teeth. Art had always been emotional for him, but he
couldn’t tote the past around any longer. Not if he wanted a future with
someone—especially a man like Trace.

“This is for all the times you walked away from me.” He slashed the bottom of

the canvas with indigo paint. “And this is for treating me like dirt.” He heaved a
handful of sand into the smeared paint. Grains of sand flew and fell in a silver
cloud. More tears slipped down his cheeks. His voice cracked and broke. “I took
all your shit and never complained.” He scrawled over the figure with the chalk,
marring the facial features and acting out through his art. “I deserve more than
you. I deserve to be happy.”

The chalk slipped from his fingers and he crumpled to the floor. He’d created

the painting with Trace in mind, but the more he worked, the more he
understood Trace wasn’t the man in the image. He’d pigeonholed him into the
same mold of his previous dates. Trace wasn’t like anyone else.

Jeremy wiped his brow and the wetness from his cheeks. Meeting Trace at the

game so long ago had been a turning point, no doubt. So was their date, but he
stood at the edge of the biggest moment in his life. He swiped his hand over the
angry painting. The pain and sadness in his soul faded away. Sure, he’d be able to
channel them later, but those feelings didn’t dominate his life. He’d finally
allowed himself to move on and the freedom worked.

After filing the wet painting away in one of the vertical stalls, he pulled a fresh

canvas from the lower stalls. More colors were added to his palette, along with a
wider selection of brushes. He cracked his knuckles and grabbed a thick brush.
Now he could create.

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By the time he looked up from his work, almost six hours had passed. He’d

worked the rough painting into an abstract figure resembling Trace with the
lights of the club surrounding him. Yellow, blue and bright green ringed the
canvas in a kaleidoscope fashion. With each brush stroke, he embraced the
influence of his new muse.

He couldn’t wait for Trace to return. What if he called him? Picking up his

phone, he paused then slid the cover closed again. Damn it. When Trace left,
they’d forgotten to trade phone numbers. No wonder he hadn’t called.

He’d wait for Trace in the lobby. Dipping the brush in the water, he wiped it on

a paper towel. At a knock at the door, he trotted across the room, peering through
the privacy window. His doorman stood on the other side.

“Hey, Bruce.” He flipped the deadbolt and opened the door. “What’s up?”
“You have a visitor.” He retrieved the image on his phone of Trace in the lobby.

“Trace Robeson. We don’t recognize him.”

“You can add him to my guest list.” Jeremy grinned. “He’s a close friend.”
“You got it. I’ll bring him up.” The bellman trotted back down the hall and

disappeared behind the closing elevator doors.

Jeremy whipped around and noticed the state of his apartment—messy. He’d

left clothes on the floor and his dinner untouched on the table. Not a problem.
The cold chicken and mixed veggies ended up in the garbage and the clothes
found their way to the clothes bin.

Another knock echoed. Anticipation slid through his veins. Time to lay his

body, heart, and soul on the line for Trace to take.

***

Trace checked his bag one more time. He’d picked up a couple boxes of

rubbers and a big bottle of lube. Never let it be said he wasn’t prepared. In a short
while he’d be at Jeremy’s. Thinking about his lover made his heart swell.

The buzzer outside his apartment sounded. He wasn’t expecting company.
“Trace, I know you’re home.”

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He stopped cold. Go figure Yancy would show up. He could stay in his

apartment and avoid his ex or confront the son of a bitch and move on with his
life. Moving on sounded like a great idea.

“Don’t bellow my name,” he snapped, opening the door. “What are you doing

here?”

“Trying to get back with you.” Yancy tried to shove his way into the apartment.

“You still want me.”

“No, I don’t.” Trace blocked his forward motion. “You cheated on me. I don’t

give second chances to cheaters. Got me?”

“I want you.” Yancy pawed the air, reaching for Trace. “Don’t go out with that

pussy. You need me.”

“I need you to leave.” He backed his ex up to the doorway. Across the hall, his

neighbor’s door opened a crack, then wider. Lloyd, a cop and good friend of
Trace’s, nodded from inside his apartment.

He had a witness. Thank God.
“I’m not leaving. You’re mine.” Yancy pawed at him again and connected with

Trace’s chest. Rage burned in his eyes and his lip curled in a sneer. “Yeah, if I
can’t have you, neither can he.” He cocked his arm and plowed his fist into
Trace’s face.

Pain splintered through his skull and he gritted his teeth. If he’d ever had any

thoughts of taking Yancy back, the assault would have changed his mind. “Leave
me,” he shoved him back, forcing him to retreat, “alone.”

Lloyd surged out of his apartment. “I’ve got a better idea. Trace, if you want to

press charges for assault, I’ll haul his ass in.”

“Bullshit,” Yancy growled and lunged a second time, burying his fist in Trace’s

stomach.

“That’s enough.” Lloyd tackled him to the ground. Trace stepped out of the

cop’s way as he hefted Yancy to a standing position and snapped handcuffs on
him. “I hate bullies and you’re the worst.”

Ten minutes later, Lloyd’s partner arrived and both men read Yancy his rights.

Trace leaned on the doorframe of his apartment, enjoying the arrest.

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With the cops in charge, his ex whimpered. “I never meant to hurt you,” he

said and began to sob. “We were meant to be together.”

“Never again.” Trace dipped his head. His nightmare was over.
Half an hour later, he stood outside Jeremy’s door and shifted his weight from

left foot to right. The bellman said he’d been approved to use the elevator—
whatever that meant. He caught his reflection in the glass covering a painting in
the hallway. His face hurt and he preferred not to show anyone the result of his
meeting with Yancy.

The knob jiggled then the door opened. “Hey.” His lover smiled, but the

gesture faded to shock. “What happened?” He grasped Trace by his upper arms
and dragged him into the apartment. “Who hit you?”

His shoulders sagged and he sighed. “Remember Yancy, the guy from the club?

Well, he invited himself to my place. He started things, and I ended them.”

Jeremy guided him to the couch, sitting opposite him. “Start at the beginning.”
Trace snorted. He rather liked when Jeremy took control and handled the

situation. “Yancy was a mistake. I broke things off with him because he cheated
on me. He trolls the clubs and when he bumped into me, he tried to hook up
again. This last time, he saw me with you.” Trace sighed. “You’ve got security
here. I’m not so lucky. He showed up at my apartment. I told him to go and he
didn’t. He wanted me back and when I said no he connected his fist with my face.
I got the last laugh though—my neighbor is a cop who witnessed the whole thing.
I defended myself and Yancy’s spending tonight in jail for assault.” His stomach
churned. Of all the times to screw things up...he had Yancy there to make things
worse.

Jeremy rubbed Trace’s thigh. “I’m glad and I kind of understand how he feels.

The moment we met, I knew we’d have some sort of relationship. After our date, I
knew it wouldn’t be just friendship. You made me realize I’m strong on my own,
but I don’t want to live without you. He knows he lost out on a great guy and can’t
let go. Crazy, huh?”

“A little, but I like it.” The rest of the past faded when he looked into Jeremy’s

eyes. A shiver ran the length of his spine and his cock thickened behind his

Megan Slayer

30

zipper. He groaned and adjusted his jeans to take some of the pressure off his
dick.

“I love you, Trace.” Jeremy held his palms up. “I know, I know. It’s fast, but I

do. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more.” Standing, he gripped the sheet
on a nearby canvas. “I want to show you something.” He ripped the covering off.

Trace’s heart lodged in his throat. The image, a man in the nude, sleeping and

stretched across a bed, filled the middle of the canvas. Bright colors ringed the
figure and an abstract heart loomed large in the frame. The more he looked at the
work of art, the more he appreciated signing up for the date.

“So?” Jeremy shrugged one shoulder and his cheeks turned a deep red.
“I love it. And you.” Trace leapt from the couch and threw his arms around his

lover. “I brought supplies for tonight, but I’m thinking this night calls for non-
traditional again.” He tapped the lid of the closest bottle of paint. “This won’t
burn skin, right?”

Jeremy’s eyes lit up. “It’s acrylic. Perfectly safe and dries faster.”
“Cool.” He walked them to the nearest stool and eased Jeremy down. “I want

you naked.” He latched onto his mouth and hooked his fingers into the hem of his
shirt. Jeremy moaned, breaking the connection only long enough to push his
hands away and rip the garment over his head.

“Nice.” Trace nipped his bottom lip then tugged him to his feet. He thrust his

hands into the waistband of his jeans. The button popped loose and the zipper
parted. Shoving the pants to the floor, he wrapped both hands around Jeremy’s
cock.

Another moan escaped Jeremy. “Needed this. Need you.”
Trace stepped backward and raked his gaze over him. “I’m going to cover you

in those gorgeous paints of yours, smear the colors together, then drag the
brushes over you until you scream.”

“Hell, yeah.” He stood long enough to step out of his boxer briefs and widened

his stance. “I’m yours.”

“Love you.” Trace kissed him once more. Squeezing a tube of blue paint, he

slathered the paint over Jeremy’s muscled chest with his fingertips. He smeared
more into the crevices and hard lines of his torso and thighs.

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Each touch brought another groan from Jeremy. He gritted his teeth and

tipped his head back. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?” Trace picked up one of the fat brushes and dragged the soft bristles

down his lover’s arm. At the same time, he bit and licked an earlobe. “So fucking
sexy.”

Red paint mixed with the blue, creating a delicious shade of purple. “One of

these times,” Trace said between strokes, “I should find some nipples clips.
Would you like that?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy’s voice dipped low and rumbled.
“Or maybe a nice cock ring? Something snug?” Trace knelt at his feet and

tossed the brush onto the floor. He glanced up and flattened his tongue along the
underside of his hard dick.

“Shit.” Jeremy wobbled on his feet. “Do that again.”
“I plan to.” With one hand at the base of his cock, Trace opened his mouth

wide and sucked on the blunt head. Salty precum filled his mouth and he
hummed.

“Jesus.” Jeremy lurched forward and braced his feet. “More.”
Like he could tell the man no. Trace continued to lick and suck on his erection,

tasting every inch. He nibbled on the soft skin of Jeremy’s balls and speared one
finger between his ass cheeks to toy with his asshole. Jeremy clamped down on
him, drawing him in.

“Greedy.” Trace licked and pumped his mouth around his cock. “Let go for

me.” He glanced up between licks. “Come apart.”

“Yeah.” The artist’s brow crinkled and his eyes closed. A trickle of perspiration

slid down his temple and he pistoned his hips, burying his cock in Trace’s mouth.
Within seconds, a thick stream of cum slid down Trace’s throat.

This time, Jeremy wobbled too far and leaned on Trace. “Fuck.”
“I’ve got you.” Trace kept him upright. Paint smeared on his nose and cheeks,

but he didn’t care. He wiped the sticky cream from his mouth and stood and
gazed up at his lover. “Tastes good.”

Jeremy grinned. “I like being your canvas.”
An idea popped into Trace’s mind…a delicious idea. “Do you have big paper?”

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32

His lover nodded across the room. “In the flat file.”
Trace helped him onto the nearby stool. Strolling to the set of oak drawers, he

opened the top two. Crisp white paper filled the second one. He withdrew a sheet
and placed it on the floor next to the stool.

Without saying a word, Jeremy met his gaze. Trace smoothed the paper and

picked up his overnight bag. The bottle of lube and one of the condom boxes
landed on the floor.

“Making a collage out of sex items?” Jeremy asked.
“Nope.” Trace shucked his pants and underwear then yanked his shirt up over

his head, tossing it onto the bag.

Jeremy dropped to his knees and crawled to where Trace stood. He opened his

mouth and flicked his tongue. “Let me take care of you.”

“Not yet.” Trace stoked his own cock, loving the feel of his hand on his body

and the look of need on Jeremy’s face as he watched. He held a condom out.
“Open.”

He did as told, then sat back on his heels.
“Lay down on the paper.” Trace positioned his lover with his ass toward the

ceiling. His splayed hands, knees and the tops of his feet left colorful marks on
the pristine paper. “We’re making our own art.”

“I love you,” Jeremy said.
Trace slid the rubber over his dick then squirted a generous amount of lube in

his palm. “Jesus.” From head to toe, he trembled. He stroked himself while
kneeling behind Jeremy.

He spread his ass cheeks. The pink skin puckered and he swiped his tongue

over it before sliding a slick finger in. Jeremy groaned and spread his legs farther
apart.

“Yeah.” His fists balled and released. “More.”
“Absolutely.” Trace pumped his finger in and out then added a second digit. “I

have to make you ready for me.”

Jeremy pushed backward and met him thrust for thrust.
Blood pumped through Trace and he panted. He withdrew and lined his cock

up with Jeremy’s ass. Little by little, he breached the tight muscle and slid into

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33

the warmth. He groaned gripped his Jeremy’s hips. “Mine.” Rocking back and
forth, he increased his pace with every plunge. In, out, skin slapping skin. The
smacks echoed in the large room. He brought his hand down on Jeremy’s butt in
time with his movements, his balls tapping the artist’s sac, sending a fresh rush of
desire through his body. He groaned again and his limbs sizzled.

“Damn.” His belly fluttered. “Can’t hold it in.” His brain fuzzed and his vision

blurred. “Jer!” He emptied and swayed on his feet, letting the orgasm play out.
Unsure how long he stayed that way, he finally straightened. “Holy shit, that was
intense.” He sprawled across Jeremy’s back and kissed the back of his neck.
Staring at their handiwork, he asked, “Think we should frame our art?”

Jeremy chuckled. “Maybe after we get off of it.”
Trace nodded and rolled onto his side, giving Jeremy room to move. He’d

never expected his life to change in a matter of hours, yet it had.

“I meant what I said. I love you, Trace.” Jeremy smiled.
“I love you, too.” Trace touched his cheek. “You’re everything I want.”

~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~

When she's not writing the stories in her head, Megan Slayer can be found luxuriating in
her hot tub with her two vampire Cabana boys, Luke and Jeremy. She has the tendency to

run a tad too far with her muse, so she has to hide in the head of her alter ego, but the

boys don't seem to mind.

When she’s not obsessing over her whip collection, she can be found picking up her kidlet

from school. She enjoys writing in all genres, but writing about men in love suits her

fancy best. The cabana boys are willing to serve, unless she needs them. She

always needs

them. So be nice to Javier or he will bite - on command.

She also masquerades under the name Wendi Zwaduk.

You can visit with Megan at:

www.wendizwaduk.com

UUL

Saving Sam

Give up his dream or go for exactly what he wants?

Sam Grau never planned on seeing his former best friend again. One-night stands worked

well enough to ease his heartache and loneliness...except he wanted more. He’s got a

choice—chase his dreams or the man he loves. He can’t have both.

Josh Thomas never gave up on finding the one man who understood him down to the

cellular level. He walked away once, but not a second time. He’s willing to sacrifice his

heart and pride to show his quirky friends the men they’ve both become, all in the name

of saving Sam.

One More Night

Three years ago, Jenna ran away from what should have been the best night of her life.

Letting her fear and shame get in the way of true happiness has haunted her ever since.

It’s time to move on and put the past behind her. A date through the 1Night Stand service

is the perfect opportunity to start living life again.

When the love of his life slipped through his fingers, Drake hated to let her go. A near-

death accident prevented him from going after her. But after three years of recovery and

waiting, he’s ready to take back what’s his, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her from

running again.

Can Madame Eve work a miracle or will love lose out to pride and fear?

UUL