Read Online Balls and Strikes by Sean Michael - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sean Michael
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slowly enough it was a show. A tease.
A god damn fucking promise.
Mac didn't move, he just watched, eyes wide, his entire body lit up.
The sound of the belt sliding along denim was fucking loud, Dove's jeans' zipper even louder. Then those tight Levis slid down dark, muscled thighs; Dove was going fucking commando. Jesus.
A dark, wet spot started to grow on Mac's jeans and he had to spread to give his prick more room.
Dove's cock had plenty of room now and that thick rod of meat was hard, climbing up toward Dove's beautiful belly. The silence was unbroken aside from his breath, which sounded fucking loud in his ears as Dove stepped out of his shoes, out of his jeans and stood there, gloriously naked.
Time slowed, stretched, and Mac fought to suck in breath. He knew what was coming, knew that belt dangling from Dove's hand was for him. What he didn't know was whether it was for his wrists, for his balls, or for his skin.
Dove's gaze dragged over him like a touch, moving over every inch of him.
Finally, the silence broke, Dove's voice thick. "You don't get those clothes off in the next ten seconds, I'm tearing them off you."
"You've already torn my shirt, fucker. Cost a fortune."
"Five... four... three..." Dove looked like he didn't care one way or the other how him getting naked went down.
"You said ten!" He fumbled with the buttons, but he wasn't going to make it.
"You wasted the first five bitching," Dove pointed out evenly.
"Fuck you."
Dove reached down, yanked open his pants, ripping them from his legs. "No, I'll fuck you."
Mac's shoes popped off, too, and he got his shirt open properly.
Dove's nostrils flared. "That one's new."
"I was needing." This dove was on his hipbone, dark and perfect. It had hurt, so good.
Dove climbed up onto the bed, immediately wrapping his lips around it. Mac's eyes rolled back in his head and he jerked, hips humping restlessly. Teeth scraping, Dove bit and sucked at his hip, fingers sliding up along his ribs.
Every fucking tattoo was touched, pinched, stroked. Dove knew where every one was, unerringly, even though the man had never once seen him get a single tattoo. Hell, the piercing between his legs, under his balls, Dove had done that himself.
When Dove's lips closed over his again, this kiss was thorough, deep. One thigh pushed between his legs, spread him wide, nudged his balls, hard.
Grabbing his belt, Dove nodded. "Wrists up against the headboard."
"We don't play during the season." He lifted his arms up, though, because he needed it. Bad. He needed that shit that Dove gave him.
"You need me tonight." Dove wrapped the leather around his wrists and tied the belt onto the headboard. When he was done, he dragged his fingers along Mac's arms, down his chest.
Dove's fingers looked so fucking black against Mac's skin. He was pasty, Irish, red-headed.
"You need my bruises." Dove pressed a thumb between his ribs. The ache was deep, slow, the promise of a mark blooming under his skin. "Gonna paint you black and blue."
Please. Fuck, please. Mac wanted to let the world to go the hell away.
Dove took his right nipple between sharp teeth, biting hard before sucking.
"Fucker." Mac's abs drew up, tight, his body aching, so bad.
Dove laughed, the sound husky and settling right in his balls. Then that maddening suction started again, dragging over his skin, pulling at him. Dove began adding biting to the mix, teeth scraping his skin. Mac pulled against the belt, the ache turning into a burn.
"Gonna make your skin as dark as mine."
Mac actually chuckled. Like that was possible. Dove's smile burned against his skin.
"You always make promises." And Mac was stupid for the son of a bitch.
"Always keep them." Dove snapped his teeth together, just above Mac's prick.
"Dove!" He curled, tugging on the belt, his legs pushing at Dove's side.
"Needy fucking son of a bitch." The tip of his prick was fucked, Dove's tongue pushing into him.
"Yes. Yes." He humped up, needing that
A god damn fucking promise.
Mac didn't move, he just watched, eyes wide, his entire body lit up.
The sound of the belt sliding along denim was fucking loud, Dove's jeans' zipper even louder. Then those tight Levis slid down dark, muscled thighs; Dove was going fucking commando. Jesus.
A dark, wet spot started to grow on Mac's jeans and he had to spread to give his prick more room.
Dove's cock had plenty of room now and that thick rod of meat was hard, climbing up toward Dove's beautiful belly. The silence was unbroken aside from his breath, which sounded fucking loud in his ears as Dove stepped out of his shoes, out of his jeans and stood there, gloriously naked.
Time slowed, stretched, and Mac fought to suck in breath. He knew what was coming, knew that belt dangling from Dove's hand was for him. What he didn't know was whether it was for his wrists, for his balls, or for his skin.
Dove's gaze dragged over him like a touch, moving over every inch of him.
Finally, the silence broke, Dove's voice thick. "You don't get those clothes off in the next ten seconds, I'm tearing them off you."
"You've already torn my shirt, fucker. Cost a fortune."
"Five... four... three..." Dove looked like he didn't care one way or the other how him getting naked went down.
"You said ten!" He fumbled with the buttons, but he wasn't going to make it.
"You wasted the first five bitching," Dove pointed out evenly.
"Fuck you."
Dove reached down, yanked open his pants, ripping them from his legs. "No, I'll fuck you."
Mac's shoes popped off, too, and he got his shirt open properly.
Dove's nostrils flared. "That one's new."
"I was needing." This dove was on his hipbone, dark and perfect. It had hurt, so good.
Dove climbed up onto the bed, immediately wrapping his lips around it. Mac's eyes rolled back in his head and he jerked, hips humping restlessly. Teeth scraping, Dove bit and sucked at his hip, fingers sliding up along his ribs.
Every fucking tattoo was touched, pinched, stroked. Dove knew where every one was, unerringly, even though the man had never once seen him get a single tattoo. Hell, the piercing between his legs, under his balls, Dove had done that himself.
When Dove's lips closed over his again, this kiss was thorough, deep. One thigh pushed between his legs, spread him wide, nudged his balls, hard.
Grabbing his belt, Dove nodded. "Wrists up against the headboard."
"We don't play during the season." He lifted his arms up, though, because he needed it. Bad. He needed that shit that Dove gave him.
"You need me tonight." Dove wrapped the leather around his wrists and tied the belt onto the headboard. When he was done, he dragged his fingers along Mac's arms, down his chest.
Dove's fingers looked so fucking black against Mac's skin. He was pasty, Irish, red-headed.
"You need my bruises." Dove pressed a thumb between his ribs. The ache was deep, slow, the promise of a mark blooming under his skin. "Gonna paint you black and blue."
Please. Fuck, please. Mac wanted to let the world to go the hell away.
Dove took his right nipple between sharp teeth, biting hard before sucking.
"Fucker." Mac's abs drew up, tight, his body aching, so bad.
Dove laughed, the sound husky and settling right in his balls. Then that maddening suction started again, dragging over his skin, pulling at him. Dove began adding biting to the mix, teeth scraping his skin. Mac pulled against the belt, the ache turning into a burn.
"Gonna make your skin as dark as mine."
Mac actually chuckled. Like that was possible. Dove's smile burned against his skin.
"You always make promises." And Mac was stupid for the son of a bitch.
"Always keep them." Dove snapped his teeth together, just above Mac's prick.
"Dove!" He curled, tugging on the belt, his legs pushing at Dove's side.
"Needy fucking son of a bitch." The tip of his prick was fucked, Dove's tongue pushing into him.
"Yes. Yes." He humped up, needing that
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