Give It To Me

by Sean Wolfe

Genres: LGBT Gay

Synopsis

Sweet and tender is good, but sometimes, bad is better. In this electrifying anthology, Sean Wolfe explores those irresistible encounters that fuel our darkest fantasies. Rough, risky exploits, uninhibited lust, the sheer turn-on of taking what you want--twelve incredible stories where nothing is off-limits. . . In "Mother May I," Cory is a respected investment manager by day. At night, he trades designer suits for a leather harness and enjoys the eager attentions of his beautiful, willing slave. Most cops live to serve and protect; Michael just enjoys the power trip. . .until an off-duty encounter ends with a sexy surprise in "Hands Above Your Head and Spread 'Em." When a burglar is caught in the act by a wealthy homeowner, it's the beginning of an intensely erotic connection in "The Bad Boy." In "Nephelum," all fallen angel Cyrienne has to do to regain his wings is withstand carnal temptation. But that's easier said than done when a flirty young resort attendant shows him one hell of a good time. Provocative, graphic, and explosive, Give It To Me is filled with stories of pleasure given and boldly taken--and of desire too raw to be denied. . .

Release date: October 24, 2011

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 305

Sample

Tyler stood naked in front of the floor-to-ceiling sliding mirrored door that on a very good day was only marginally successful in holding back the bulging pile of clothes that inevitably crashed down like an avalanche onto his bedroom floor once the big door was slid open. He’d just finished working out, and his sweaty muscles bulged impressively even without flexing. His chest was hard and chiseled, his biceps thick and veiny, and eight distinct ridges spread across his abs. The light reflected off the sweat that covered his naturally smooth skin.

His shaggy black hair was still dripping, and fell carelessly across his forehead, half concealing his bright hazel eyes. They stared blankly at him now, and his lips pressed listlessly together. Anyone looking into the mirror might think they were staring at a mannequin or a wax figure. He suddenly smiled, and his toothpaste-commercial white teeth sparkled and his eyes came alive and twinkled. Holding the pose for a full minute, he never looked away from the reflection looking back at him, and even he could almost be convinced that the life and energy bouncing back from the mirror were real.

But then he stopped smiling, and the light in his eyes extinguished instantly. Once again, he looked like a doll. A physically beautiful, perfect, yet lifeless doll.

Tyler let his eyes drop slowly, and took in the sight of his naked body. He was tanned and glistened as thin beads of sweat coated his smooth skin. He had one of the hottest bodies he’d ever seen, and he was proud of it. As his eyes dropped past his waist, his lips curled into a smile as he watched his cock grow half hard. It wasn’t the largest or most remarkable dick, but was far from small or unremarkable, too. A little over seven inches long when fully hard, and thicker than most, it was the perfect complement to his muscular body. He got hard with a sneeze, practically, and though it used to embarrass him, the envious looks from the other guys in the locker room quickly made his uncontrollably hard cock a source of pride.

“Tyler, honey,” his mom said from the other side of the door as she tapped softly on it, “I’m heading out. Let’s try not to overflow the tub again, all right?”

“Oh, shit,” he said, and ran over to the bathroom attached to his room. “Have a great time, Mom,” he yelled as he reached down and turned off the faucet.

He waited until he heard the door shut, and then ran over to his window. Standing behind the curtain, he pulled it apart a couple of inches and peeked outside, watching to make sure that his mom got into the car safely, as was his routine anytime she left the apartment alone after dark. Not that he could have done anything had she been approached, being completely naked and two floors up. But it made him feel better, and he knew it made her feel safer, too.

He walked into the bathroom and stepped tentatively into the tub.

“Ow ow ow,” he whispered between clenched teeth as the steaming water enveloped first his feet and then half of his calves, turning them a deepening shade of red with every passing second.

Just as he decided he couldn’t take the heat of the water anymore, and was reaching for the cold water faucet, his phone rang from the toilet seat right next to the tub. “Uprising” by Muse filled the small bathroom, and Tyler’s heart seemed to drop several inches in his chest, coming to a stop a couple of inches below the bottom of his rib cage. It was his favorite song, and assigned as ringtone to his best friend, Dylan.

Tyler grabbed his Bluetooth from the over-the-toilet shelving unit next to the tub and clipped it behind his ear.

“What’s up, homo?” he said as casually as he could, hoping that Dylan couldn’t hear the anxiety in his voice.

His cock immediately grew to full hardness, and bobbed up and down in front of him as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Hey, faggot,” his best friend said, and Tyler shivered at the sound of his voice. “Celine and Arnold just left for the evening and won’t be back till tomorrow afternoon, so I’m definitely throwing a party later tonight.”

Tyler slowly lowered himself fully into the tub, wincing as the hot water scalded his skin but never giving a thought to not immersing himself into it or to cooling it down with cold water. He needed to feel the pain right then.

“Where’d they go?” he asked as he stretched out in the tub and the water covered his chest, turning it a bright red.

“Down to visit my sister,” Dylan said softly and more demurely. “They’ll stay the night with my aunt in Austin and come home tomorrow. You know, so it’ll ‘be worth their while’ and they can justify the three-hour trip. As if Karen wasn’t enough of a reason.”

“Yeah, well, your parents are certainly one of a kind,” Tyler said as he watched his red cock throb across his taut stomach.

“They’re fucking assholes,” Dylan spat out, and then took a deep breath. “Which is why I won’t feel the least bit guilty about throwing a wild-ass party here tonight and drinking all of their liquor. You don’t have plans, right?”

“Well ...” Tyler reached down and wrapped a fist around his hard cock.

“Of course you don’t,” Dylan said, not waiting for a response. “What a stupid question.”

“Why is it a stupid question?” Tyler asked as he stroked his cock slowly. “I could have other plans.”

Dylan laughed out loud.

“Dude, you never have other plans,” he said. “If it weren’t for me, you’d have no plans at all. You’d never leave your house ... I mean, your apartment.”

Tyler shivered, and felt his cock grow thicker and harder in his hand. Just the sound of Dylan’s voice, the timbre and deepness of it, and the way his words rolled around his thick Texas accent, caused Tyler’s cock to harden and brought him to the brink of climax more often than he cared to think about. He had to wear big, baggy shirts all the time just to cover his hardon while in public with his best friend. Now, though, alone in his tub full of stinging hot water, he didn’t need to hide it. Instead, he stroked his cock and shuddered visibly as shockwaves of pleasure shot up his balls, through his cock, and across his entire body.

“That’s not true, man,” Tyler said, unable to think of anything else to say at the moment.

His mind was preoccupied with the pleasure he felt as the hot water caressed his body and his fist slid up and down his hard cock. The big veins were pulsing against his palm, and the head was turning purple as it got harder with every stroke of his fist.

“Dude, are you in the tub?” Dylan asked.

“No,” Tyler answered way too quickly, but despite himself, he couldn’t stop stroking his cock. He was getting close, and he needed to shoot his load.

“Yes, you are,” his best friend said. “There’s an echo in the background. I can tell you’re in the bathroom. You’re so poor white trash, sitting in a bathtub with hot water. You know you can come over and use my hot tub anytime you want.”

“I know,” Tyler said.

He wrapped his fist tighter around the thick shaft and stroked it faster. His friend never let an opportunity pass to remind everyone how wealthy his family was, and even though they were best friends, Dylan also constantly reminded him how poor he was. Tyler didn’t believe there was any malice behind his words; it was just the way he was brought up. His parents weren’t the best role models.

“I just don’t feel comfortable using it when your parents are there,” Tyler said through held breath. He felt his balls shrivel up and the first stirring of his orgasm building deep inside them. “I feel like they’re judging me.”

“They are,” Dylan said. “But they’re gone now. You should come over a little early and soak a bit before the party tonight if you want.”

“Yeah,” Tyler sighed. He struggled to catch his breath as he beat his cock faster and harder. “I guess I can do that.”

“What’s that splashing sound? Dude, are you rubbing one out?”

“No!” Tyler said too quickly and too loudly. But he couldn’t stop. He was almost there.

“That’s sick, man.” Dylan laughed.

“Oh, fuck,” Tyler moaned as the first of several thick streams of cum flew from his cock and splashed onto his chest and face. He reached up and quickly rubbed the warm cum from his lips and nose.

“Dude, you’re one sick motherfucker.” Dylan laughed. “Plan on getting here around eight. And try keeping that tiny little peanut prick of yours in your trunks this time, okay? I don’t want any sticky fluids floating on top of the hot tub when the others start arriving around nine-thirty.”

“Fuck you,” Tyler said, and clicked off his Bluetooth.

Most schools are finished with all of their athletic events several weeks before the end of the school year, and certainly none held any competitions during the last couple of weeks right before graduation. “Black Hole Week” at Bradley Sebastian High School was notorious for kids skipping school the entire week and for the vacuum-like void it created on campus. It had been that way for decades. No one, not even the teachers, expected anything to get accomplished, any papers turned in, any goals to be set or met.

No one, that was, except Coach Halligan, who apparently did not receive that particular memo and who insisted that his athletes practice not only right up to the last day of school but twice a week straight through the summer as well. Practice schedules for the summer were passed out at Christmas break, and he expected his athletes and their families to plan their vacations around it. He had a strict attendance policy; three absences during summer practice and you were no longer a member of his teams. In his nineteen years of coaching at Bradley Sebastian, only five players had ever tested that policy, and all five had been dropped.

Coach Halligan didn’t ascribe to the whole “Black Hole Week” culture, and demanded complete attention and focus from his boys as he alternated every day a full-workout practice of football, basketball, baseball, soccer, and track.

“Goddam, I hate Coach Halligan sometimes.” Tyler leaned in close to Dylan’s ear and whispered as they let the hot water cascade down their bodies in the shower.

Behind his best friend, in the locker room, several of their teammates were goofing off, snapping each other with towels and trying hard not to sound like seven-year-old girls who’d just encountered an unexpected spider during a walk home from school when the damp towels slapped against their naked asses.

Tyler’s eyes darted between several of his naked friends, careful without having to think about being so anymore, not to linger on any one boy too long, or to get caught. Carl Swinton was the screecher, screaming two full octaves higher than everyone else and a titch above obnoxiously loud as he jumped backward and into the lockers trying to dodge the snapping towels. Russ Beuford was one of only a handful of guys at Bradley Sebastian who legitimately made him and Dylan look like rocket scientists, and he was constantly tripping over his size 16 feet as he laughed like the Jolly Green Giant while popping away at indefensible lower classmen.

And then his eyes landed on Michael Ross, the one guy that put him at more risk of getting caught than all of his other teammates combined. Michael was the most gorgeous guy Tyler had ever seen, live or in print or on the big or small screens. His mother was a stunning Puerto Rican soap opera actress, and his father was a Super Bowl–winning quarterback whose athletic prowess was matched only by his supermodel chiseled good looks and Bill Clintonesque charm and charisma. Their only child stood six foot two inches, with jet black hair and bright green eyes that twinkled when he smiled. His caramel-colored skin was as smooth and soft as a baby’s ass, except for his hard, chiseled pecs, which were covered in a dusting of thick black hair that stopped just above the rib cage and then appeared again in the thick treasure trail that disappeared into his perfectly trimmed pubic hair. Every muscle in his entire body bulged and flexed with every step and move he made, and his natural smile conveyed honestly that he was not aware of the energetic force field he created around him.

And Tyler was pulled into that force field whenever he was within one hundred feet of Michael. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of the stud, and he couldn’t see him naked in the locker room without sporting a full, raging hardon.

“I know what you mean,” Dylan said, rabidly shaking the water from his hair. He reached out and steadied himself on the wall, dizzied by the effort as he looked over at his best friend and snorted. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, watching Tyler lean his body against the cold tile of the shower.

“Nothing,” Tyler said quickly, and covered his crotch with his hands as he let the water roll over his neck and down his back.

“Dude, you’ve got a boner!”

“Shut the fuck up, man,” Tyler said, feeling his face warm with embarrassment as he threw Dylan the evil eye behind him. “I can’t help it. This always happens when I shower.”

“No, it doesn’t,” his friend said, and pushed him around a bit, trying to turn him around so that he faced the inside of the shower room.

“Stop it, Dylan, I’m not kidding,” Tyler hissed. “Get the fuck out of here and bring me my towel.”

“What do I look like, your ...”

“Goddam it, Dylan, just shut the fuck up and do it. Why do you have to act like such a douche bag child all the time?”

Dylan looked stunned for a moment, then walked slowly out to the locker room. He returned a moment later and threw the towel into the shower room. “I’m not your bitch, bitch,” he murmured as he turned and walked away.

“Are you nervous about Yale?”

It never took them long to get over their little disagreements. This particular silent treatment lasted longer than usual, which meant that it was gone and forgotten by the time they reached the science lab, all of thirty steps from the door to the boys’ locker room.

“No, not really,” Dylan said nonchalantly as he took a piece of gum from his mouth and pressed it against one of the upper row lockers along the busy hall. “I’m not happy about having to live on campus my first year and not having any control over which residential college I’m assigned. But other than that, I’m not really freaking about much. I mean, it’s not like I have to worry about getting in or staying in. Daddy’s money will take care of that. What about you?”

Tyler laughed. “Let’s just say one of the many advantages of attending Dallas Community College is not having to worry about which residential facility I’m assigned to. And we probably have about the same chances of getting kicked out, though for different reasons.”

“I still can’t believe you’re going to community college, dude.”

“Yeah, well, my mom barely makes enough money to buy a couple bags of groceries after paying for this ridiculous school. I didn’t really live up to what I’m sure she hoped for me by insisting I come here. Yale certainly isn’t an option.”

“You’re such fucking poor white trash.” Dylan laughed, and pushed his friend playfully into the lockers.

Tyler pushed back. He doubled up his fist and reared it back, as if he were going to punch Dylan out. Then he bit his lower lip hard, drawing on every ounce of strength in his body not to lean in and kiss his best friend on the lips. The bell rang from the speaker directly above him, and he flinched.

Dylan grabbed him by the arm and pulled him close to his body, pinning his arms against his own torso. He laughed out loud, and tightened his grip as Tyler struggled against him for a full minute.

“We’re almost there, man,” he whispered into Tyler’s ear.

Tyler’s body tensed up as he felt the warmth from his friend’s skin and smelled his breath. His cock hardened instantly, and he prayed no one would notice the line snaking down his jeans as he allowed his body to mold against Dylan’s.

“Three ... two ... one ...”

Tyler felt himself being flung forward, and stumbled to stay on his feet as he and Dylan rounded the corner.

“There she is,” Dylan whispered. . .