L. A. Mischief by P. A. Brown Page A

indicating the Lexus. “You’re coming with me.”
    He took Chris’s hand and led him up to the front door, unlocking it and then locking it behind them. He turned to face Chris in the tiny alcove. Chris stood motionless, his body vibrating with tension. David was so near, yet so very far away.
    David bridged that gap. He reached up and cupped Chris’s face in his hands. Heat pooled in Chris’s gut and his legs grew weak. He leaned against the wall for support. Gently David pressed his mouth to Chris’s, his lips open. His breath was warm and his mouth tasted of coffee. The kiss deepened and he filled Chris’s mouth with his tongue, savagely plundering him, his hands closing into fists on his shoulders, shoving him back into the wall. He skimmed his hands down Chris’s side, gripping his ass and lifting him off the floor. Chris wrapped one leg around David’s hip and arched against him, slamming David’s hips between his legs, pressing against his hardening cock.
    He broke away from David and gasped for air. “God, David—”
    “Shut up,” David growled. “Don’t talk. Don’t move.”
    He grabbed Chris’s hand and pulled him to the bedroom, pushing him on the bed and reaching for his shirt.
    Chris raised shaking fingers to undo David’s shirt, but David brushed his hands away. “Don’t move.”
    Chris froze and watched David shuck his jacket and shirt, dumping them over the only other furniture in the room, a ladder back chair. Mesmerized, Chris watched hard muscled flesh as it was exposed to his hungry gaze. David’s chest rippled and flexed as he stripped, only leaving his pants on, the fly opened, exposing his boxers. Chris stared at the raised red scar on David’s lower abdomen, sharply contrasting with his dark skin.
    Ignoring David’s orders he sat up. “My God, David. Should we be doing this?”
    “The stitches are out. It’s healing. The doctor told me to get some exercise.”
    “But you said light-duty...”
    “I’m fine, Chris.” He approached the bed, his eyes pinning Chris to the quilt covered mattress. He stopped beside the bed and reached into his bedside table for his lube and condoms. He pointed at the bed. “Down. Now.”
    Chris subsided.
    David set the items down on the table and turned back to Chris. Leaning over, his hot breath dancing over Chris’s overheated face, he began to skim the buttons on his shirt open, slowly, one at a time, with each button open he stroked the exposed skin. “This time you will do exactly what I tell you to do. No questions, no back talk. Understand?”
    “Understood.”
    “Good.” David wrenched Chris’s shirt off and threw it on the floor. After pulling off his shoes and socks he went to work on his pants, finally exposing the jockeys that barely covered his raging cock.
    While Chris silently urged him on he slid stiff fingers down under the waistband and slipped the taut material off, smoothing his palm over Chris’s ass before he wrenched the material off and flung it after his other clothes. Chris squirmed on the bed, opening and closing his legs in need.
    David stopped him with a firm hand on his hip. “Don’t move.”
    “Oh, God, David—”
    David put his hand over Chris’s mouth, stilling his moans. “Shhh.”
    He straightened and under Chris’s glazed eyes, he finished stripping his own clothes off. He stood beside the bed, his hand on his cock, lightly stroking himself. Chris could see a drop of pre-come oozing from the bulbous head half-concealed by his foreskin. He pushed the skin back, revealing his swollen head to Chris’s avid gaze.
    Chris licked his dry lips. He could barely breathe, couldn’t see anything but David. He watched as David knelt on the bed beside him, his mouth coming down to caress Chris’s throat. His mustache whispered over Chris’s supersensitive skin and sent waves of desire firing along his nerve endings. He moaned and bit his lips to keep from crying out. David pressed his mouth against his