Reckless: A Bad Boyz Anthology Read online

  I made sure Ledbetter knew that I needed a space for my hog. It was as every bit as precious to me as that monster Mercedes SLK 280 was to him. He had accommodated with no issues. Apparently, his complex allowed each tenant three parking spaces. His three were the first ones next to the elevator. I wondered how he’d negotiated that?

  He’d put a call into his PI before we’d left his office. The guy was to conference in later this evening on his private landline. Lloyd assured me that all discussions pertaining to my situation would be non-traceable. I appreciated the fact that he totally understood the necessity of anonymity without assuming I was simply some nutcase from a previous era.

  As we jumped on the elevator from the parking garage, I took the opportunity of assessing his physique once again. It was easier now as he was standing in front of me. Lloyd was tall, maybe two inches shorter than me, and his build was slender, but in no way would I categorize him as thin. He worked out. That I could tell even beneath his handmade and monogrammed shirts. They were tailored to fit him perfectly. French cuffs even. Starched and then pressed to perfection.

  I wondered if his Calvin Klein briefs were pressed. I hoped it didn’t take long for me to find out. I theoretically had one foot in his door and half of my long dick. But his signals were askew at times.

  Mr. Lloyd Ledbetter was all business for the most part. But my photographic mind would be his downfall. Because I counted a total of six times his eyes had caressed my package this afternoon during our meeting. He wasn’t going to be an easy conquest but, then again, I don’t want easy. I want hard, but trainable.

  Rock hard.

  I wanted a challenge, and therein lay what we had in common, because I could tell that Lloyd liked it hard, and he damn sure liked a challenge. But there was something unsaid. Something he likely wouldn’t share with me -- at least for now. Something that caused him to tread with caution. Something in his eyes when they had lingered a little longer than required on mine. It was almost unreadable, but I was good at reading between the lines -- sometimes.

  Lloyd had been burnt.

  Lloyd had been burnt badly and it hadn’t been all that long ago from what I could tell. The giveaway was his reticence, and it wasn’t a result of him trying to maintain his professionalism. I unnerved him. That much was obvious.

  Just like my declaration that he’d be putting me up at his place. The dude was quick to dispel the notion. It was as if he had argued it in his own mind. Part of him had won the argument, and the other part had lost it.

  He had determined it wouldn’t be happening, but then announced something totally different. He had compromised with one night. He was only kidding himself.

  Hell, I knew I’d be staying longer with Lloyd. I knew that once he had sent his PI out to dig up the dirt, we would have some down time. Hell, I needed to get his fine ass on the back of my Harley and drive out of the city. He needed to feel the total abandonment and freedom with the wind smacking your face and the pure adrenaline release that comes with it. It was more than invigorating, it was totally liberating.

  Lloyd needed that right now. He needed to feel the vibration and the power between his legs as he straddled the heavy metal machine with me. To totally go where the wind blows and not regret one fucking minute of it.

  I wanted this man to bare his soul to me but, before that, I sure as hell wanted him to bare his body. I wanted to see what was beneath his designer façade. And I sure as hell wanted him to see what was beneath my cowboy hat and denim jeans.

  I imagined him running his tongue over my serpent tat.

  “Just to the left,” Lloyd said as the elevator door opened into a wide hallway on the tenth floor, he waited for me to exit, and I snickered in my mind knowing that it was his turn to watch my ass as I swaggered out.

  “It’s 1002,” he said, "three doors down on the right.”

  “Nice digs,” I commented, “I mean, I can already tell just from the marbled floor hallway and the polished brass fixtures. Must be a lot of bread in criminal law, huh Lloyd?”

  “I do okay,” he replied, coming up on my flank.

  “Two or three bedrooms?”

  “I beg your pardon?” he said, as we got to his door.

  “Your apartment. Is it two or three bedrooms? I presumed two, but hey, if this is a one bedroom efficiency, I’ll be happy to take the couch. Unless you don’t mind sharing your room. It’s totally your call, Lloyd. After all, criminal beggars can’t be choosers, am I right?”

  Chapter 7

  WHEN I WAS seven years old, my parents got me a puppy. It was every child's dream, a common wish added on millions of Santa lists across the globe. To have a little black Labrador following you around and playing with you every time you felt lonely. To feel unconditionally loved by that one little being that relied on you just as much as you relied on him. We had gone to one of our neighboring farms right outside of Sidney, Montana.

  My first reaction when I saw the box filled with eight different puppies was pity. Such a small space for so many siblings. My mother had explained how they had needed the close comfort of their brothers and sisters as well as their mother in order to survive. The outside world was a cruel place lurking with predators. My seven-year-old mind had translated that message and I automatically felt like I was invading on their privacy, their home so-to-speak.

  We had returned two months later and brought back the smallest of the puppies, the darkest one, the one least likely to be adopted, my mother had explained. I was excited to have another life be my responsibility but in equal measure, I was terrified. What if I screwed up? What if I forgot to feed him? What if, and this was a big one, it crapped all over my room because I fell asleep before taking it out? So many questions, so much stress.

  As I walked through my front door with Luke Gunner, those same questions ran through my head. What if I screwed up? What if One-Eyed Tony came barreling through my door and shot us in the face? What if Luke missed the toilet seat when he took a leak?

  My apartment was on the tenth floor of a twenty-five-floor high-rise. I wasn't rich by many New York standards but I was doing quite well by my Montana beginnings. Hard work, dedication and a strong will to succeed had led me to this hectic and amazing life. Of course, my parents' need to ignore me and my sexual "preferences" had also steeled my resolutions to work hard and make a name for myself in a city that didn't care who or what you fucked. I hadn't been disowned, my parents still claimed to love me, however, they just pretended my whole "coming out" was a mirage. A non-existent event in our lives. Whatever, I supposed it could have been worse.

  "You can put your things in here," I told Luke as I opened the door to the guest bedroom. It was usually empty since having visitors was too time consuming at this point in my career. The queen size bed was the center of the room with earthy colors decorating the bedding. The closet was tucked inside the wall with wooden sliding doors. No dresser but there was a small wooden desk that could be used for those working guests that needed to stay tuned-in to the wireless world.

  "If you need anything, let me know. There's a guest bathroom right over there," I said as I pointed to the door in the corner of the bedroom, " and it also has a door to the main hall. I’m sure the towels are clean. I’ll place a new bar of soap in there for you, unless you prefer body wash. And there is a new tube of..." I was cut off by a low chuckle.

  "Relax, Counselor. I'll be fine. Thanks." Luke was looking around the room, seemingly appreciating the décor. He should, it cost the equivalent of my parents' barn. Probably more.

  "If you need a plug for your phone or laptop, there's one accessible next to the bed." I pointed to the right of the headboard but was interrupted by a snort, this time. Classy.

  "Told ya. I'm not connected. At all," Luke said absentmindedly.

  I still could not wrap my mind around that little bombshell. "But how do you communicate with people? I mean, everyone has a cell phone, surely."

  Luke turned abruptly towards me, his
face so close I wanted to bite his lip before plunging my tongue inside his mouth. But when our eyes met, his nostrils flared and something primal passed between us, linking our auras and smashing them together.

  "This is how I communicate, Lloyd. Face to fucking face," he growled as he took two steps into me, forcing my back to slam against the nearest wall. "I look into people's eyes and speak to them like the humans they are. And then," he continued, his stare drawing a blazing path down to my lips, my chest and finally on my growing bulge before piercing me again with his baby blues, "if I want, I fuck them into submission. Although," both his hands had found their way on either side my head, palms flat against the wall, "eye contact in those cases is not required."

  I actually felt the precum leaking from my cock and probably staining my Armani suit pants. What exactly was I fighting? Yes, he was officially my client but then there was nothing "typical" about our arrangement. The very fact that he was even in my personal space was so far from normal, I was beginning to question what little sanity I had left.

  Was it my past with Larson? That ship had sailed six months ago when I was told in no uncertain terms that our relationship was merely sexual and that he was now in love. With an asshole but then who was I to judge, right?

  Don't get me wrong, I'd had sex since Larson. There was no way my libido would just suddenly turn off but this felt different. Intense somehow but mostly it was at my place, which never occurred. Ever. I fucked at gay clubs, where we were safe to live openly without fearing some crazy fanatical bastard wanting to beat the shit out of us. I fucked at other men's homes. Once, I gave a blowjob in the stall of a restaurant bathroom. That had been enjoyable even though I had never contacted that particular date again.

  Color me surprised when my immediate reaction to Luke's words was to let myself fall to my knees, head tilted back, eyes steady and pinpointing my soon to be lover. No words were exchanged, the hitch in his breath spoke volumes of his shock at my actions. Opening my mouth, I let a small smile adorn my lips as an invitation for his cock to fill it and fuck it.

  With one hand still propped up on the wall, Luke smirked down at me once the surprise was gone and the lust was prominent across his features. "I have rarely seen a more appetizing sight, Counselor." Reaching down with his free hand, he palmed my raised chin and roughly slid a calloused thumb across my bottom lip. "Those fucking lips. I can't wait to feel them wrapped around my dick."

  Pushing his thumb inside my mouth, he pressed hard against my tongue and bit his bottom lip as he took in a lungful of air and blew it out slowly, methodically. Completely in control. All the while, our gazes never wavered. "Suck it" was all the command I needed before I closed my mouth and sucked in his already wet thumb deeper inside. My tongue danced around his digit, all the while letting the sounds of suction echo throughout the room, appreciating the scent of sex as it began to fill the space around us. "You like that, don't you, Counselor? Your mouth busy?" I didn't speak, I just stared up at him, willing him to take out his cock and feed it to me.

  "Fuck, Lloyd. That mouth." His words were like fuel on my already raging fire. My designer slacks were rubbing against the fabric of the carpeting, probably ruining their cut with every second that I stayed in position. The entire scene was making my erection feel like a ten-pound weight about to burst through the seams. God, it felt good to feel the telltale signs of a lover dignified in that name. It had been a long time since a man could make my submissive side purr in contentment. Six months, to be exact. The last, being Larson.

  Don't think about him. Do. Not. Think. About. Larson.

  Pressing his thumb on the bottom row of my teeth, Luke forced my mouth open anew and raked the padded flesh of his digit from left to right before releasing me completely. "Take my cock out, Lloyd. Stop analyzing. Stop thinking. Clear your mind and only concentrate on the feel of my dick fucking your mouth."

  My pleasure.

  Reaching up, with steady hands, I popped open the buttons to his faded, ripped blue jeans. No zipper. Five pops later, I zeroed in on the plump head of a straining erection. What was it with me and men who sported the commando style? Had the male gender of my generation discarded the benefits of wearing boxer briefs?

  All thoughts of undergarments left as I took in the sight before me. It was gorgeous, beautifully proportioned with thick veins adorning a smooth hot shaft. The slit offering its precum was calling my name like a siren straight out of the Odyssey. Well, except that would be a male siren for me, but I digress. However, what had completely grasped my focus were the ornaments.

  Along the underside of his rigid rod, were six metal studs that climbed all the way to the bulbous head of his cock. A Jacob's Ladder, I knew. I had seen one on a friend a couple years back but it looked painful back then whereas now it only sang promises of never before pleasures. To top off the steel art, I licked my drying lips at the image of the silver ring proudly hanging from the sensitive skin of his head.

  I almost reached out and flicked it with my tongue but stopped dead at the sound of Luke's tenor voice. "You like what you see, Lloyd?" Jesus, did I ever. I wanted my mouth, my hands...my ass all over it. I wanted to own it and have it own me. I wanted to worship its existence and let myself fall at its mercy because there was no doubt that the man who dictated its movements knew exactly how to drive pleasures from the deepest, darkest corners of a psyche. I wanted it to be me.

  "Run your tongue along the ladder. Feel the ridges, imagine it's your asshole. Now, multiply those thoughts by a hundred and maybe you'll understand the power of a piercing." Fuck. Yes.

  Bracing my head with both large palms, Luke directed my mouth to his glorious dick, just far enough that I could open my mouth and touch my tongue to the base. Slowly, he directed the dance as he pushed my head up along his shaft, letting me feel every stud as it slid across my tongue. It was heady, a feeling of discovery, of bliss to come.

  "That's it, baby. Now hook the lip of your tongue to my ring and pull...easy, now...fuuuck yeah." The breathy pleasures coming from Luke amped up my own desires, prompting me to look straight into his eyes, begging for permission to suck him properly. "Open up, Lloyd. Show me what you've got." And I did. I fucking gave my best performance.

  Feeling Luke's palms firmly on either sides of my head, I opened my mouth and slowly sank his dick deep inside my mouth, fighting my gag reflex but only for a bit. Men love hearing their lovers gagging. On a primal level it insures the size of their cocks is above average, that's always good for the ego. Placing my hands on Luke's thighs, I shuddered at the feel of pure, hard muscle beneath the material of the jeans, sliding my palms up and up until I reached the open flaps of his button-down fly. While my mouth bobbed at a steady pace, I was barely able to reach the base of his shaft before the head pushed against the opening of my pharynx causing me to almost falter in my movements. But I didn't, of course. This was my specialty. I was good at giving head. I would blow his mind before he blew mine, I was sure.

  "Jesus. Christ. Lloyd. Your mouth should be illegal." I could hear the strain of self-control in his words and it only drove me to be better. The silence of the apartment and of the guest room was interrupted only by the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh. Of spit and sucking. Of grunts drawn from the deepest abyss of human lust. It was the most erotic experience of my life.

  With my fingers curling around the waist of his jeans, I pulled down quickly before clamping down on Luke's ass cheeks and burying his cock deep inside my mouth. I fought the gag, I breathed through my nose and felt every delicious, smooth inch of his dick filling every spare space of my mouth. Luke's hands tightened on my head as he pushed his hips an extra inch and grunted like a primal animal ready to blow his load. And he was close. I knew he was. I could feel it with the impossible thickening of his cock, the steady pulsing of his heartbeat through every vein.

  "I'm gonna fucking blow, Lloyd. And you're gonna swallow every fucking drop." When my only response was a moan, Luke cried out into th
e silent room and let his seed escape in a violent eruption, coating my mouth, throat and running down my esophagus in a stream of unadulterated satisfaction.

  Raising my head, he looked down into my eyes, our gazes communicating a shared feeling of immeasurable bliss. Luke pumped his hips twice more into my mouth before withdrawing and pulling me up from my kneeling position. Without a word, he slammed his mouth onto mine and kissed me with a fervor I had never before experienced. Our tongues battled, searched the other out, sucking and biting and promising more for later.

  "Christ Almighty, Lloyd. That was the best fucking blowjob I've ever had." Heat rose from my chest up my neck and probably landed embarrassingly across my cheeks. Just perfect. And then, with vivid clarity, I realized I had just come in my pants. Yeah, my Armani’s were as good as trashed but fuck it, it was worth it.

  "Come on, let's go grab something to eat." It was all I could say to hide my embarrassment and make my way to go change before cooking up something quick and easy. I had a feeling that the night was only beginning.

  Chapter 8

  IF I WERE any kind of a gracious house guest, I never would have allowed Lloyd to leave my bedroom without first making sure that he’d enjoyed the magic that my mouth could do on his cock. I was kind of competitive that way, but Round 1 went to Ledbetter. It wasn’t just my competitiveness, it was my innate need to please back. I was still in some sort of a post-orgasm afterglow.

  Damn.

  The man had blown my mind with his blowjob. He was perfection in every way. God knows he was into it. I hadn’t missed the fact that he’d jizzed himself in the process, which in and of itself was a fucking turn on for me. There was a hell of a lot more to Lloyd Ledbetter once he left the confines of his fancy law firm. And I was here to make damn sure I explored every facet of his being, though I wanted to start with the physical aspect first.