Riverwalk

!"#$%&'()*+,*!-"'..$*/"($*0*1"2)"*3$..$44* 5* *

Connell pushed back his hair from his forehead, the cool breeze off the water a welcome relief from the sweltering afternoon sun. He and a group of friends had arranged to meet in Savannah for one of their sporadic weekend get-togethers. He'd been captivated by the old buildings, the sprawling live oak trees dripping with Spanish moss, the colorful oleanders that lined the numerous pocket parks they'd passed on their rambling walk. Deciding it was time to start thinking about dinner, they'd headed for the Riverwalk to look for a restaurant. In the midst of a lively discussion about what everyone felt like eating, the low vibrato of a saxophone caught Connell's ear. Glancing across the cobbled street, he saw a musician silhouetted against the greygreen water of the river. The setting sun awoke warm russet highlights in the long hair that swung around his face as he played, his fingers caressing the keys while his other hand cradled the body of the horn like a lover. Fascinated, Connell slowed and finally stopped where he stood, watching as the musician played scraps of different tunes. It took him a few moments to realize the man was matching his playing to the people passing by, switching from the theme of a popular cartoon as a mother with two young children passed, to a drinking tune as a group of young men walked by, to a romantic love song for a couple who stopped and dropped some bills into the hat at his feet. He vaguely heard his friends calling to him, asking him teasingly when he'd become a music lover, finally telling him to catch up and moving on. It didn't matter. He could always find them later, probably hanging out at some sidewalk tavern, or even back at the hotel. Drawn by the warm, sensual tones of the music, he started across the narrow street, fortunately at a moment when it was free of traffic since he couldn't tear his eyes away from the hypnotic musician.

!"#$%&'()*+,*!-"'..$*/"($*0*1"2)"*3$..$44* 6* *

Spence's eyes opened from a particularly intense riff full of the longing he felt gazing on the young lovers that had just passed. Honeymooners. After ten years on the Riverwalk, he could spot them six blocks away. There had been a time in his life when finding a soulmate had consumed him; now it was just a hollow ache that echoed behind his heart. A dream put up on a dusty shelf like a favorite childhood toy – too meaningful to throw away, but useless in his day-to-day life. He took a deep breath, scanning the street for inspiration. His eyes fell on inspiration embodied. The slender, dark-haired man was walking directly to him and the musician stifled the urge to stand and meet him halfway, pull his body close and never let go. Instead he put his desire to hold and claim the unknown man with his music, sending out the notes to wrap around him instead of his arms. The music changed again, a tune Connell didn't recognize, the honeyed tones smooth and sultry and oh, so sweet. He could feel them surrounding him, enticing him, arousing him. If seduction could be put to music, he was listening to it now. His footsteps slowed as he reached the musician, unsure what to do next. His mind was telling him to pull a bill from his wallet, drop it in the hat and hurry after his friends. His heart was telling him to stay. His body was telling him things he'd probably be very embarrassed by if the musician happened to look up and notice. Standing in a single graceful motion, Spence began to wander among the trees, his eyes connecting with the deep brown of the captivating tourist, encouraging him to follow – away from the street and deeper into the small park towards the water. He felt like the Pied Piper, luring him away from the crowds. Reaching the seawall, he leaned against a live oak so old his arms wouldn't close around the trunk. The position of the tree shielded them from the pedestrians on the sidewalk. The music flowing out of his sax changed, deepening to a sultry tale of hot nights and hotter lovemaking. The moment his eyes met the bottomless blue of the saxophonist, Connell was lost. The man stood sinuously, his bare feet soundless as he

!"#$%&'()*+,*!-"'..$*/"($*0*1"2)"*3$..$44* 7* *

turned toward the river, the erotic serenade drawing Connell along like invisible fingers woven with his, so palpable he could almost touch it, so voluptuous he was halfway hard. When the musician leaned back against a tree facing the water, his lean body molding against it, it was all Connell could do not to follow suit. He wanted to take the sax from the musician's arms and take its place, to feel those sensitive hands playing over his body. Instead, he glanced toward the street and back at the musician. "Your hat – your money," he stammered awkwardly. "Shouldn't you...." Spence's lips smiled around the mouthpiece and he shook his head slowly. 'That is about entertainment and money,' he thought, pouring his heart into the notes of his sax. 'This about letting the music connect us.' Spence poured his heart into his eyes and his music, wanting every minute this man was willing to give him before he walked away. When the musician's lips curved into a smile, Connell could almost feel them pressing against his in a slow kiss. They'd be firm and warm and he'd open beneath them, melting into the kiss the way he was melting inside from the seductive melody. He'd had casual lovers before, men he'd taken to his bed after knowing them only a short time, but he'd never felt anything like the immediate attraction, the intensity of desire evoked by the saxophonist's musical artistry and magnetic allure. The saxophonist watched as the man in front of him swayed, entranced by the music. He could see it in his eyes ... had seen it before. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to be seen without the filter of the music. Ending with a resonant swirl of deepening tones, he carried the last note to an extended fade. Almost shyly, he dropped the instrument to waist level. "Do you like sax?" he asked, voice raspy from playing. The man's voice was as sensuous as his music, and Connell was so lost in it that it took a moment for the words themselves to register. "Oh, ah, never listened to it much, before today," he admitted honestly. Now

!"#$%&'()*+,*!-"'..$*/"($*0*1"2)"*3$..$44* 8* *

that he'd lowered the saxophone, Connell could see all of the musician's chiseled features, fascinated by the small scar that marked his upper lip. He wondered how long ago it had happened, if it had affected his playing – he wanted to bury his fingers in the musician's tawny hair and soothe the scar with his tongue. The sudden surge of desire unsettled him. What was this stranger doing to him? He should give him a tip and leave to find his friends. Reaching for his wallet, Connell found that he didn't have any bills left – he vaguely remembered using his last twenty for drinks a pub or two back. "I really enjoyed your playing, but I'm afraid I haven't any cash with me," he apologized. He wondered if the musician earned his living playing on the street – his jeans and t-shirt were worn and faded, but clean. "How about if you let me buy you dinner instead?" he offered impulsively. "I was just about to find someplace to eat, I'd enjoy the company." The young man's words confirmed Spence's fears. Without the music, he wasn't enough to hold the young man's interest. This was why he hid behind his music. It was safer – hurt less than revealing yourself. "That's okay. It isn't about the money. It's about sharing the music. I'm glad you liked it. I'm sure you aren't here alone. Nobody comes to Savannah alone. Go find your friends and have dinner." He tried for a smile, but could feel it fall short of the nonchalant look he'd been trying for. "I came here with friends, but I'm still alone," Connell admitted, surprised both at realizing the truth of his words, and that he would admit them to this virtual stranger. There was just something about the man that drew him out and demanded total honesty. "I think you're alone, too. Maybe we could be alone together?" Spence's smile brightened by several degrees, feeling the other man reaching out to him. "I think that's a contradiction in terms. Maybe we could be less alone together. I'm Spence." He extended his hand.

!"#$%&'()*+,*!-"'..$*/"($*0*1"2)"*3$..$44* 9* *

"Connell." Spence's hand was large and warm, calloused from fingering the keys of the sax, and Connell wanted to feel it on his bare skin. "What would you like for dinner? I'm afraid I don't know any of the restaurants, maybe you should pick where we go." "I'd be honored to show you my city, Connell." Spence loved the musical sound of Connell's voice. "Will you trust me with your evening?" "I trust you," Connell agreed. He'd spent only a few minutes with Spence, exchanged barely a handful of words, but he knew in his soul the musician would never abuse that trust. "Our evening is in your hands." Spence reached into his pocket, extracting a cell phone. He flipped it open and called a number that was obviously on speed dial, quickly making a request for a varied selection of foods – to go. "I need to pack up before we walk to the restaurant," Spence explained, already moving towards the spot where he'd left his case and hat. Tipping the contents of the hat into the red velvet interior of the instrument case, he placed it on his head. Laying his saxophone carefully in the case, he buckled it shut. "Come on. We'll put this in my car around the corner." He extended his hand to Connell again. This time it wasn't in greeting, but in invitation. Embarrassed at the assumptions he'd made about Spence, Connell's cheeks flushed as he placed his hand in the musician's. A spark of heat jumped inside him as their fingers entwined, making him nearly stumble on the uneven pavement. Spence's hand tightened around his, holding him steady. "Just because they're historic and pleasing to the eye, doesn't make them all that functional," Spence drawled, nodding at the wide spaces and unequal heights of the cobblestones. They strolled lazily up the street, hand in hand, content to enjoy the growing dusk in silence and each other's company. Spence stopped at a navy blue Prius, opening the

!"#$%&'()*+,*!-"'..$*/"($*0*1"2)"*3$..$44* :* *

trunk and depositing his instrument. "Next stop, food. Hungry?" he asked, heading back towards the river. 'In more ways than one,' Connell thought, eyeing the musician's lean backside as he bent into the car's trunk to secure his instrument. "Starving," he assented, missing the warm clasp of Spence's hand. Glancing up, the blue eyes smiling back at him gave him the confidence to interlace their fingers again. "Where are you taking me?" Spence wanted to say, 'Home,' but he bit his lip. "I thought we'd go eat down by the river. I know a staircase that appears to lead nowhere, but it actually doubles back to a gorgeous little hidden alcove right on the water. Boats can see it from the river, but you can't see it at all from the Walk and it has a gorgeous view of the sun setting behind the bridge." "Sounds perfect." It could be a hole in the wall or a back alley as far as Connell was concerned – the chance to be alone with Spence was much more appealing than trying to make conversation in a noisy restaurant. "What kind of food did you order?" "Mostly seafood, Chatham Artillery Punch and dessert. I ordered little bits of a lot of different things, so you can pick and choose." Spence called out a greeting to a man standing on the stoop of a restaurant they were approaching, switching to rapid-fire Spanish as the man started to question him about Connell. Making a very brief introduction, Spence grabbed a brown paper handle bag from the stoop behind the older man, tossing out a loud, "Gracias!" Turning to Connell, he grinned, "Alberto doesn't hear very well, but he loves to talk. We better make our escape before he decides to relate a war story or twelve." "Smells delicious," Connell sniffed appreciatively, the mingled aromas making his mouth water. Since Spence's hand was occupied, he slipped his arm around the musician's bent elbow instead, the closer posture allowing their hips to brush together as they walked. "That's my

!"#$%&'()*+,*!-"'..$*/"($*0*1"2)"*3$..$44* ;* *

favorite way to eat – sharing food. Doesn't always go over well with my friends when I snatch something off their plate to taste." Surprised, Spence looked over at the dark curls brushing against his shoulder. "It's my favorite way to eat, too, and I know what I like. I hope Alberto remembered to include silverware, or we'll be eating with our fingers." An image of feeding morsels to Spence, of closing his mouth around the musician's long fingers to clean them, struck Connell so powerfully that his cock jumped against the buttons of his jeans. "Guess we'd just have to make the best of it," he murmured, swallowing hard. "Is it a long walk to this alcove you were talking about?" "Nope. Just down here in fact." Spence turned around an iron rail and started descending a series of stairs that appeared to go right into the river. Reaching the landing, he turned right under a low hanging bridge and then right again, stepping up onto some large rocks and extending a hand down to help Connell up behind him. Letting Spence's hand steady him across the rocks, Connell found himself chest to chest with the other man, the close contact making him feel almost lightheaded. Clutching the nearest solid object to regain his balance – which happened to be Spence's hip – Connell closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Another scent mixed with the aroma of the food to tantalize his senses, a crisp spicy note that he knew was the saxophonist. Spence tipped his chin to his chest, trying to focus on Connell who was suddenly very close. He could see the rapid rise and fall of both their chests and couldn't resist seeing if the irresistible attraction he'd felt from the first moment he laid eyes on Connell was mutual. Cupping the back of the other man's head, he pulled him the final few inches, reconnecting their bodies and tentatively touching his lips to Connell's mouth. As his eyes were drifting shut, he caught the surprised look in the deep brown ones in front of him.

!"#$%&'()*+,*!-"'..$*/"($*0*1"2)"*3$..$44* <* *

Connell hadn't suspected that Spence was feeling the same longing he was, so the first brush of tentative lips against his caught him unaware. The kiss was everything he had imagined and more, surprising a soft moan of pleasure that woke him from his passivity. Giving in to temptation, his tongue flicked out to smooth over the scar on Spence's upper lip before returning to trace them gently, asking wordless permission to deepen the kiss. The bag fell the handful of inches to the ground as Spence's other hand came up to hold Connell close, settling in the curve of his lower back. Tilting his head, he opened his mouth, teasing Connell's bottom lip with his teeth. Settling back against a large boulder, he spread his legs for balance and pulled Connell between his spread thighs – wanting ... needing him close. Accepting the silent invitation willingly, Connell moved nearer, his tongue gliding into Spence's mouth as their chests pressed together. He could feel Spence's pulse quickening as he explored the moist cavern, their tongues swirling against each other in a dance as old as love itself. Humming with pleasure, Connell's arms circled Spence's neck, his hips shifting to align their bodies even closer, making it apparent how much both of them were already aroused. Connell might have been surprised at how quickly he'd reacted to a simple kiss, except he realized it was far more than that. Everything Spence had done from the moment he'd seen him, every note he'd played, had been foreplay leading up to this moment. Spence could feel the vibrations of Connell's body and he recognized them as clearly as the musical notes from his sax. Every moment since he'd first seen Connell had been building to this instant, maybe even farther back than that – he was beginning to wonder if every moment in his life had been building to this climax. Things were clicking in his chest, falling into place like the tumblers of a safe lock. "Connell,"

!"#$%&'()*+,*!-"'..$*/"($*0*1"2)"*3$..$44* =* *

he whispered, just to mix the taste of the name with the flavor of the man already on his tongue. "Spence," Connell moaned, acknowledging the desire in the other man's voice and answering it with his own. "Spence, please..." He needed more – more of the delicious warmth and fullness of Spence's tongue in his mouth, more of the enflaming friction of Spence's chest against his, more of the press of Spence's arousal against his own throbbing cock. He pulled the musician's head down to his, seeking satiation for his hunger in another kiss. Forcibly dragging his mouth away, Spence rested their foreheads together, panting to drag sufficient oxygen into his lungs. "If we don't eat now, a lot of really good food is going to go to waste." He could see Connell start to protest and one side of his mouth quirked up. "And we might need the energy later," he added. "Energy is good," Connell agreed reluctantly, unable to resist snatching one more quick kiss before putting a little distance between them. How had he become addicted to Spence's touch so quickly? Feeling awkward standing there with an erection tenting his jeans, he sank onto one of the large rocks that framed the alcove, trying to regain his breath. "So let's see this really good food you promised," he urged. "Though it's going to have to be pretty incredible to match that appetizer." Spence's look turned sultry as he fought with the desire to push all rational thought from Connell's mind with his mouth and hands. He couldn't help walking close, pressing his body tight to Connell's and branding him with one more passionate kiss. Afterwards when the dark eyes opened and looked up at him, clouded and unfocused with desire, he realized he was completely lost. A quick tumble in a secluded cove was no longer enough. He was playing for keeps. Brushing his fingers up the smooth cheeks, he whispered, "There is no way anything will ever match this, so I won't even try."

!"#$%&'()*+,*!-"'..$*/"($*0*1"2)"*3$..$44* 5>* *

His heart swelling at the promise in Spence's words, Connell caught the musician's hand against his cheek, turning it to kiss the callused finger pads. "Feed me, before we miss the sunset," he said softly. "This is too special to rush. I want to let it play out naturally and savor every moment." "I'm not sure that I'm that patient, but I agree we need to eat." Spence walked over to a large flat rock, sitting with his legs crossed under him, and began pulling things from the bag. "Let's see what you've got," Connell grinned, opening up containers and humming appreciatively as the contents were revealed. "Oysters Rockefeller – I love them! And glazed scallops–" He dipped a finger into the caramelized sauce and raised it to his lips, groaning in ecstasy as the smoky flavor exploded on his tastebuds. Spence completely lost track of what he was doing. Sitting with a half-open container in his lap, he watched the pleasure play over Connell's face and was seized with the need to learn every nuance of the young man's expressions. Lifting a scallop with his fingers, he held it to Connell's lips. His eyelashes fluttering as he sighed with pleasure, Connell's eyes kindled as Spence held the dripping scallop to his lips, the embodiment of his earlier fantasy made real. Holding the musician’s wrist to steady it, he bit into the succulent morsel, his lips lingering to catch the droplets of sauce that ran down Spence's palm. A tremor shook him at the contrast of silky scallop, tangy sauce, and the warm, rough rasp of Spence's skin beneath his tongue. Spence moaned at the feel of Connell's tongue running over his palm, shifting to accommodate the growing tightness in his jeans. Without taking his eyes off of Connell, he reached for another type of seafood, watching as bite after bite disappeared between the young

!"#$%&'()*+,*!-"'..$*/"($*0*1"2)"*3$..$44* 55* *

man's lips. When they had finished the scallops and most of the oysters, including the sauce soaked into bites of warm sourdough bread, Spence dragged his eyes away long enough to pour a small amount of pink punch into a plastic cup. "What's this, pink lemonade?" Connell asked, his eye widening as he swallowed a large mouthful of the cool drink. "Holy God – what's in that stuff?" "Well, not exactly," Spence chuckled. "It's called Chatham Artillery Punch. Specialty of the house." "Feels like you could get the whole artillery drunk on just a few of these," he retorted, taking another – smaller – sip. The citrusy-sweet taste couldn't mask the bite of whisky and some other liquors Connell couldn't identify. "Still, it does rather grow on you." "My theory is that the alcohol numbs your tastebuds. Ready for some dessert?" Emboldened by the alcohol, Connell scooted closer, setting down the cup of punch and reaching for Spence instead. Carefully taking off the musician’s hat and laying it beside them on the rocks, he tunneled his fingers into the silky hair and drew his head down until their lips were only a breath apart. "Whatever you brought can't possibly be sweeter than this," he whispered, his mouth opening against Spence's in a slow, gentle kiss. Spence moaned, carefully lying Connell back on the rock and leaning over him, never breaking the connection between their lips. Skimming his hands up and down the slender body, his lips wandered down to the graceful curve of jaw, nibbling his way towards Connell's ear. "You are more potent than the punch."

!"#$%&'()*+,*!-"'..$*/"($*0*1"2)"*3$..$44* 56* *

Looking up, Connell saw the setting sun painting the trailing clouds over the river in wide swaths of rose and violet, haloing Spence's hair in its fading glow. He arched upward into the embrace, craving the weight of Spence's body pressing into his, grounding him in the elation that made him feel as if he might float away. "And you're even more seductive than your music." "I think maybe I'm craving dessert after all," Spence murmured, moving down Connell's body, pushing the soft cotton sweater up to reach the hard planes of his stomach. With his free hand he reached for the food bag, spilling the remaining contents onto the rock. Raising himself on his arms, he looked down into Connell's eyes. "Let me please you...." It was half statement, half plea. “You do,” Connell assured him, covering the hand still caressing his stomach and moving it upward to brush over a tightening nipple. His other hand slid from Spence’s hair down his back, moving slowly over each bump of his spine, hunting for a way under the faded cotton of his shirt. Finding what he wanted, Spence flipped opened the heavy Styrofoam container. Scooping the cool substance inside onto his fingers, he painted a broad flat nipple with cinnamon ice cream. Ignoring the yelp of surprise, he warmed the skin with his mouth. Connell bucked upward in shock as the cold melted confection hit his skin, and again in pleasure when Spence’s mouth closed around him. Burrowing under the musician’s shirt to the warm skin beneath wasn’t enough – he needed to feel Spence’s body against his. He tugged at the t shirt until Spence lifted his head, dragging the offending garment off and tossing it aside without caring where it landed. Then he pulled Spence back against him, gasping as the hair on the musician’s chest brushed against his smooth skin.

!"#$%&'()*+,*!-"'..$*/"($*0*1"2)"*3$..$44* 57* *

Continuing his dessert, Spence used the ice cream to paint Connell’s lips, sucking them clean before sharing the taste with the man beneath him. As good as it felt to be pressed against Connell, Spence’s desire to explore his body spurred him to move. He encouraged Connell to curl up from the rock, pulling the sweater over his head, laying it on the rock as a blanket to protect his sensitive skin. Spence's mouth returned to Connell's chest, teasing and nipping at the dark chocolate nipples until they were hard and peaked. Moving lower across the muscular abdomen, he followed the trail of dark fine hair to where it disappeared into Connell's jeans. His fingers slipped inside the waistband, his thumb resting on the silver button, eyes looking up in silent query. His own hands not idle, Connell explored the planes of Spence’s back, tracing his ribs around his sides and stretching beneath to flick at the pebbled nipples. When Spence’s eyes met his, the emotions so clearly matched his own that there was no hesitancy in his voice when he answered the unspoken request. “Yes. Do it. Just let me undress you too. I want to feel you, all of you.” As much as Spence wanted this, he wanted more. Tracing Connell’s bottom lip with his thumb, he cradled his face. Looking deep into the dark eyes, he repeated the sentiment out loud. “I want this, but I want more. Will you come home with me tonight?” “I don’t want to stop,” Connell admitted breathlessly, fighting to regain control of his spiraling need. “But I also meant it when I said I didn’t want to rush this. I just can’t seem to remember that when you’re touching me.” He sat up slowly, reaching out to caress Spence’s face, his fingers rubbing gently over the stubbled jawline. “We’ll be much more comfortable making love for the first time in a bed. Take me home, Spence.”

!"#$%&'()*+,*!-"'..$*/"($*0*1"2)"*3$..$44* 58* *

Spence smiled, eyes glinting devilishly. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do, but it doesn’t mean we have to stop just yet. Like any good meal, there are courses. Consider this the appetizer.” His fingers slipping inside the band of denim, he popped the silver button, releasing the zipper with a quick tug. “There’s one more part of you I want to paint with ice cream, and it will be completely melted before we get home.” Not at all opposed to having his cake and eating it too, Connell moaned at the promise in Spence’s words. “Only if I get to share,” he insisted, working his hands between them to yank open Spence’s jeans with impatient fingers. “Turn around – there’s something on the menu I still want to taste.” Spence groaned at the erotic image painted by Connell’s request, not the least bit put off by public nudity. He stood, pushing the faded denim off his hips and stepping out of his jeans. Turning around and straddling Connell’s body, he let the younger man’s hands guide him as he tugged the dark denim lower over Connell’s hips. Spooning up a dollop of melting ice cream with his fingers, he painted a stripe from crinkled sac to shiny head, grinning as the hard length jumped under the cold. “Fuck!” Connell yelped, his hands tightening around Spence’s hips. “Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up,” Spence promised. Deciding it was high time Spence got a taste of his own medicine, Connell pulled the trim torso closer, until the hard shaft was within reach of his lips. He mouthed teasingly at the satiny tip, letting it slip away every time his lips closed over it, hoping he was driving the other man as crazy as the lazy licks up his own shaft were making him. Spurred on by the pressure building in his own groin as well as the desire to send Connell spinning out of control, Spence finished cleaning

!"#$%&'()*+,*!-"'..$*/"($*0*1"2)"*3$..$44* 59* *

the last of the ice cream from the still-cool pink skin, circling his cold tongue around the head of Connell’s cock before raising it with his fingers and sucking it deep into his mouth. One hand slipped underneath Connell’s body to cup his ass and lift him higher. Unable to resist the salty taste of the musician’s silky skin, Connell relented, letting Spence slide deeper inside his mouth. The thick shaft stretching him and the hot suction on his own cock were wildly stimulating, but he was determined to bring Spence with him when he came. Trailing his teeth over the hard length from base to tip, he let it slide from his mouth with a final swipe at the bulbed head. Spreading Spence’s cheeks with both hands, his tongue moved upward, laving the hardened balls beneath their crinkled hair before skating over the sensitive skin behind them. He knew he’d found his goal when Spence’s moan vibrated around his cock, making him struggle for just a little more control. Probing the roseate opening with his tongue, he wet it thoroughly and then poked the tip inside. “Take that, Spence,” he thought. Unable to resist a challenge, Spence’s hands kneaded the firm buttocks, fingertips sliding into the damp cleft, teasing at the entrance to Connell’s body. A single rough tip pressed against the resilient muscle. Spence relaxed his throat, swallowing as Connell bucked up off the rock, taking all of his length. Connell wailed against Spence’s ass, biting down instinctively as his body seized in climax. Pulsing as Spence’s throat worked around him, he shuddered through wave after wave of sensation, lost for a moment to anything but his own ecstasy. When he had recovered enough to be aware of the world around him, and the hard shaft still nudging his chin, he clasped it in a trembling hand, his strokes growing firmer as his tongue bored into Spence, pushing him toward an equally climactic release. Spence sucked and licked at Connell until the last tremor of the still-firm shaft passed. Letting it slip from his lips, he buried his face in

!"#$%&'()*+,*!-"'..$*/"($*0*1"2)"*3$..$44* 5:* *

the damp curves, inhaling the scent of his lover. Overwhelmed with the smell and feel of Connell, his body tensed, cresting in a release that was almost painful. Exhaling with a deep groan, the muscles in his thigh trembled, threatening to give out as Connell worked his body to peak after peak of intense pleasure. Braced on his elbows, Spence panted to regain his breath. Nuzzling the slowly softening shaft, he licked backwards from head to balls. Letting his fingers graze over the opening to his lover’s body one more time, he said, “I can’t wait to get you home. I can see you stretched out on my bed, face down, legs open. My tongue can already taste you as I lick every inch of your body before I finally make us one.” He ended his promise by taking Connell in his mouth one final time. Already hardening again at the erotic image his lover painted, Connell realized Spence was as seductive with words as he was with his music. Determined to give back as much as he had received, he raised Spence’s cock to his lips, cleaning every bit of creamy fluid with as much pleasure as Spence had evinced over the melted ice cream. When the impressive length was gleaming with his saliva, he turned his attention to his own hand, holding the saxophonist’s eyes as he turned cleaning the long digits into a sensual exhibition. “Just remember, a meal has more than one course,” he echoed Spence’s earlier words. “I’ll expect to have my turn at tasting you again too.”

!"#$%&'()*+,*!-"'..$*/"($*0*1"2)"*3$..$44* 5;* *

Chatham Artillery Punch 1 1/2 gallons Catawba wine 1/2 gallon rum 1 quart gin 1 quart brandy 1/2 pint Benedictine 2 quarts Maraschino cherries 1 1/2 quarts rye whiskey 1 1/2 gallons strong tea 2 1/2 pounds brown sugar 1 1/2 quarts orange juice 1 1/2 quarts lemon juice Mix from thirty-six to forty-eight hours before serving. Add one case of champagne when ready to serve. No, we are not kidding!

*

Check out these other titles by Rhianne Aile…

And Nicki Bennett…

www.dreamspinnerpress.com