Free ConvenientStrangers by Cara McKenna Page B

Fuck me.” He lost it. His head mashed the pillow,
back arching, hand freezing as he shot, hot come basting his stomach. Before
the spasms even waned he released himself, pulling hard at Adam’s side and
sealing their bellies together so Adam could feel the evidence of Stephen’s
surrender. Animal noises filled his ears for half a minute, until a gasp stole
Adam’s voice and he rammed himself deep, holding there through his climax.
Stephen kissed his temple and forehead, listening as he came down and recovered
his breath.
    After a few moments of dumbfounded stillness, Adam scooted
back, easing out.
    He disappeared into the next room, returning to toss Stephen
one of two hand towels. They wiped away the spoils of their sex, and just as
Stephen began to worry if he was supposed to be finding his pants and a motel
to crash in, Adam flopped down beside him, letting go a long, satisfied sigh.
    Stephen sat up to toss the towel aside, and he smiled down
at Adam. At his lover, sudden as that new designation was. “Good?”
    “Fucking hell. Yeah. Really good.” Adam blinked up at the
ceiling.
    Feeling confident he was allowed to stay put, Stephen lay
down, letting the length of his arm press against Adam’s. To his happy
surprise, Adam took his hand, giving it a couple soft thumps against the
covers.
    Stephen dropped his head to the side. “Cool if I sleep
here?”
    “After all that? It’s cool if I wake up and find my TV
gone.”
    Stephen laughed. “Brilliant. Thanks.”
    “For the sex, or the TV?”
    “Oh, you’ll find out.”
    Another admonishing thump of their hands, then Adam said, “I
think I’m about to drop into a coma. Anything you need before I do? Need the
alarm set or anything?”
    “Nope. I’m perfect.”
    “Great.” With an exhausted sigh, Adam sat up to shift the
covers from beneath him, and Stephen did the same. The sheets felt smooth and
clean and crisp, different from the flannel ones Stephen had grown so
accustomed to. Like a hotel bed. And like a hotel, the visit wouldn’t last
long, but tourism was fun and not meant to be dampened with thoughts of what
might come after. Stephen nudged Adam onto his side, spooning him from behind,
and not caring if the gesture was clingy or bossy or wrong for a casual night of
mutual rebound fucking. Felt good, and what else mattered, really?
    Just before he dropped off, Stephen wondered how many
messages and texts awaited him on his phone. He was shocked to realize he
didn’t care. The question brought no anxiety, no guilt, no smug satisfaction.
It was too much to hope that he’d just fucked his way through a breakup
hangover. That pain would return soon, dramatic or anticlimactic, sharp or
aching, ugly or civil, lingering or swift.
    Who knew?
    Who cared?
    Who in heaven wanted to waste time worrying, when they could
drift into oblivion, here in this handsome man’s bed?

Chapter Seven
     
    Adam woke early, summer sunshine slipping between his blinds
and warming his face, glowing pink through his lids. There was weight on his
ribs—Stephen’s arm. His eyes flew open, the entire night flooding back in half
a blink.
    From the heavy, steady rhythm of Stephen’s chest rising and
falling against his back, Adam knew the man was sound asleep.
    He was out of practice at panicking after a one-night stand.
Then again, the onus to panic fell usually to the person who was visiting, the
host only burdened if they were eager to see the guest leave. And Adam wasn’t.
It was a Sunday and he had no clients to meet, nothing at all planned for the
day aside from a run if it wasn’t too hot, or a trip to the gym, a stop at the
grocery store. And lying there with Stephen’s warm, bare body pressed to his
was way nicer than any errand. Nope, he wasn’t in any hurry to kick his
conquest out. He’d let Stephen make that call, and promised himself he wouldn’t
be disappointed if the man took off before coffee.
    But after twenty or more minutes of lazing, the sun grew hot
on