Free Love & Loyalty by Tere Michaels Page A

open wider. He was exposed, open and shaking with eagerness; shame would have sprung further into his mind, but Griffin didn't give him the time.
    He rubbed his hands against the backs of Jim's thighs, his head bobbing up and down as he sucked his dick with a lazy effort that nonetheless had Jim biting his bottom lip.
    Jim wanted to tell him to hurry, but all that happened when he opened his mouth was a string of shaky moans with a few curse words thrown in.
    He looked down again, and Griffin managed to grin around his mouthful of Jim's erection. After a second he pulled off, the popping sound loud and obscene enough to echo across the loft.
    Griffin didn't let go of Jim's thighs, and that wicked look didn't appear to be going anywhere either.
    “How anal are you exactly?” he asked, all smirk and dimples—how did Jim miss the dimples?

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    “Uh.” Jim moaned—really, he was going to protest, because that was disgusting and they hardly knew each other and who the ever-loving hell was he kidding with this line of bullshit dancing between his ears?
    “I knew it,” Griffin muttered; he turned his head just enough to nip at the inside of Jim's knee.
    Then he went down lower, and Jim's breath hiccupped.
    His arms went straight out, flexing his shoulders as he grabbed hold of the comforter. If anyone hovered above him, they'd have thought that Jim was in pain, that he was about to be tortured.
    But the first tentative flick of Griffin's tongue against his ass was anything but torture.
    Christ, did he remember the last time he let anyone get this close? He made a promise to blame the wine and the beer and the day when morning came.

    * * * * *
Griffin was a tease. He gave Jim a few licks, just enough to leave him shaking and babbling, then hummed his way back up, still holding Jim in that vulnerable, open position.
    “What are you…?”
    “Shut up,” Griffin said, still smirking but now a little more out of breath. A little more needy.
    “Need a hand?” Jim tried for cheeky but just sounded desperate.
    “Need a condom and about four gallons of lube,” Griffin mumbled, his mouth roaming randomly over Jim's dick and stomach and inner thighs.
    “Let go of me…”
    “No, not yet. Need that eventually. Really need to fuck you, but for now…” And then he was gone, back to flick and circle and preview what was (hopefully) coming very, very soon. Before Jim came quickly and had to 66
    Tere Michaels

    apologize and oh—everything flew sideways out of his head as Griffin stopped playing and pushed the tip of his tongue into Jim's body.
    “Oh God.” Jim moaned, letting go entirely. It had been so long since he'd let anyone fuck him that this prelude to the act was his undoing. He knew what was going to happen, exactly what he was going to let this guy do, and while a fleeting part of him panicked, the rest of him—locked up for so long—
    felt relief and burning anticipation.
    Griffin Drake, of course, had no idea about any of this; he was tongue fucking Jim, his hands gripping his thighs, and no doubt trying to remember where Jim said the condom and lube was.
    “Please.” The word finally leaked from Jim's mouth.
    Griffin heard him—maybe he was just as anxious to move on as Jim. The last press of his tongue was a slow push in and quick twist out. Jim grasped the bottom of his dick in a desperate attempt not to come. Mumbling something about “hot,” Griffin gently let Jim's legs down and swarmed over him with more of those openmouthed kisses. His dick, his hand, his stomach, up to Jim's mouth.
    There was a moment's pause, a request for permission, and Jim nodded, arching his neck up and opening his mouth for a kiss.

    * * * * *
“Come on, roll over,” Griffin murmured when he came up for air. Jim liked the husky growl of his voice and the way his messed-up hair now fell over his forehead. He looked younger in the dim light—but there was nothing immature about the way he was moving his