Ice Man by KyAnn Waters Page B

chased over his flesh. His orgasm built in the base of his spine, molten heat pooling in his balls. Muscles tensed with the impending storm of sensations. He slammed hard.
    “Come, damn it.”
    Rowan reached for his cock.
    “No, don’t touch. I’ll make you come.” From fucking alone he wanted Rowan’s cream spurting onto his stomach, eyes locked on his as he spiraled into euphoria.
    Brett shifted the angle, rubbing his cock head against the smooth inner tissues. Rowan bucked, gripped fistfuls of sheet and came.
    Hot ribbons of cum jetted from his cock. The powerful orgasm convulsed his body, shooting semen onto his abdomen, chest and onto the sheets. The spasms locked his rim to Brett’s shaft. The pressure drove Brett over the edge into oblivion. His mind numbed and heat flooded his system. Every nerve sizzled and snapped. He thrust fully into Rowan and stilled, relishing the pleasure centered in his dick and radiating out. Waves of release washed over him, milking him dry as he emptied into Rowan. Holding on to the condom, he slipped free and collapsed onto the bed.
    Rowan used a corner of the sheet to wipe the cum from his stomach.
    Brett laughed. “My cleaning lady has to know my sex life has improved.”
    “I love that there’s cum all over your bed. Shows how much sex we have.”
    And they did. Neither one of them seemed to be able to get enough touching, kissing and loving. “Let’s go out tonight.”
    Rowan turned to his side and braced on his elbow. “After work.”
    Brett sat, shifted to the edge of the bed then went toward the bathroom to dispose of the condom. “I thought perhaps you could take the night off. We could go to dinner, maybe see a movie.”
    Rowan stretched out on the bed with his hands laced behind his head. “It sounds perfect but I have to work.”
    “Call Tac. Tell him you need a night off.”
    He stretched and sat up. “Can’t.”
    “Why not? You work seven days a week. You’re entitled to some down time.”
    He shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you. Tac needs me at the club.”
    “I need you with me.”
    Rowan faced him. “I know. I feel the same way. Try to understand.”
    But he didn’t understand. Didn’t understand why Rowan went to work hours before the club opened, didn’t understand how Rowan could feel loyalty or obligation to his ex-lover.
    “Fine, I won’t bitch about the amount of time you work.” After all, he worked seven days a week, all hours of the day and night. He lived and breathed his business. Rowan lived and breathed The Catacombs. He wasn’t jealous of the club or concerned Rowan would meet a man and betray their burgeoning relationship. His insecurities revolved exclusively around Tac. “We can go to dinner before the club opens.”
    Rowan took his leather pants—bondage pants he’d worn to work last night—and stepped into them. “How about lunch?” He grinned. “I need to be at the club early.”
    “You always have to go early.”
    “And I always will. I don’t have a choice.”
    “You’re the one who says you always have a choice.”
    Rowan jerked his T-shirt over his head. “Yeah, we all have to do shit we don’t want to do.” He stomped from the room and down the stairs.
    “Like what?” Brett followed. “What the hell are you doing for all those hours before the club opens?” God, he hated this part. He didn’t want to argue.
    “Stocking booze and practicing my performance.”
    “Fine, I’ll come with you.” He sounded desperate to his own ears.
    “No, I don’t want you at the club.”
    “What?” Where the fuck had that come from? “Why?”
    Rowan sifted through the couch cushions. “Have you seen my keys?”
    “You’re leaving?”
    “Yes.”
    He raked his hands through his hair. “Fine. Go.” Nausea roiled in his gut. What the fuck had triggered this argument? He wanted dinner, an evening together, a special memory on the night he told Rowan he loved him. Hell, he