Free Racing the Moon by BA Tortuga Page B

came again as Sonny glanced back over his shoulder. "You coming?"
    Man, the comeback for that question was so easy.
    Too easy.
    Vaguely cheesy.
    Too bad he couldn't resist.
    "That depends; you going to spread pretty for me?"
    "Spread what? Mayonnaise? A blanket for a picnic?" That damned satisfied chuckle made him want to crack Sonny's skull.
    He snorted, hauling himself out of the water, feet dragging on the sand. "Your legs, Sunshine. That pretty ass."
    "Sorry, I'm not on the market. Glad you think it looks good, though." Stopping just inside the door, out of the sun, Sonny waited for him, hooking an arm around him as he got close enough. "Take me back to bed, Precious. I'm pooped."
    "Pooped and demanding." Sounded good though. Bed. Pillows. Nappage.
    "Hey, don't you know that's why I brought you with me? To fulfill my every whim?" Wet, hot, and damned fine against him, Sonny limped with him into the bedroom, hauling him down on the bed.
    "Is that what it was? I thought it was extreme psychosis on your part. It's good to know." He curled right in, worn completely out.
    "I got you to get me Twinkies, didn't I?" Sharp as anything, Sonny's chin dug into his collarbone as they snuggled together, one of Sonny's hands landing on his ass. Which was awake now, at least.
    Which was better. Numb asses just sucked rocks.
    Really.

 
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
    Sonny swung in the hammock, one foot rocking himself lazily. Sun. Sand. A weird assed eco-terrorist to snuggle with. The only way his vacation could be better was if MJ would offer up that amazing ass for him to fuck.
    It didn't look like that was going to happen, but, hey, he'd never thought he'd kidnap anyone and haul them to Jamaica either.
    Lord, that had been fun. Maybe he should buy some more morphine and take MJ somewhere else. Aruba. Barbados. Hell, maybe they should go to Australia. He peered down at the floor of the porch, where MJ was spread like a two-dollar whore, naked as a jaybird and sunning himself. He didn't seem to be showing any signs of withdrawal.
    The man had some amazing ink. Black and spiky, flowing over that belly, over one pec, down the opposite thigh.
    There was even a faint etching of the same pattern on the base of the man's cock, just brushing the ball sac.
    Damn.
    He'd noticed that before, but he'd been entirely too hurty to do anything about it. Three days of swimming and sunning? Yeah, his ankle felt better. Sonny pondered. MJ's blanket thingee was bigger than his hammock, and way sturdier. He'd go down there.
     
    Swinging out of the hammock, he sat on the blanket, cross-legged, and started tracing patterns. "So what does this mean?"
    "That one on my thigh means warrior and peace, sort of swirled together."
    "Yeah?" He touched it, feeling the roughness of hair, the smoothness of scar tissue formed by the tat. "It's pretty."
    "Thanks." MJ smiled, skin hot as hell under his fingers.
    His fingers wandered, tracing up to caress the line between torso and thigh. "Did you go to college?"
    Okay that was out of the blue, but somehow he wanted to know. What did a guy study that made him go, hmm, I wanna blow shit up for peace?
    "Yeah. Berkeley first, then Cal Tech."
    California. Yeah. That belly was flat and fine, calling his fingers. Damn. The man frustrated him, made him want to holler a lot, but damn.
    "Mmm. Feels good. What about you? You go to school?" MJ arched, rocking up just a little. Sensual little shit.
    Sonny bent, licked at the little hairs trailing from MJ's belly button down. "No. Was going to, but it just didn't work out..."
    Yeah. He'd got that beaten right out of him, that urge to study.
    "What did you want to... Mmm... what did you want to study?" Oh, look at that cock fill.
    "Russian literature. Hotel management. Underwater basket weaving. Shit, I just wanted to go drink beer and ogle pretty boys."
    Damn. The ink around that cock was much easier to see now.
    MJ chuckled, shook his head. "I never liked literature class. I was an