Strung Up: A Blacktop Cowboys® Novella by Lorelei James

to stop and fuck your mouth?” I whispered against his temple.
    “No. Goddamn you’re good at this. Don’t ever fucking stop.” His fingers dug into my ass and he tilted his head to conquer my mouth in a sizzling kiss.
    That dizzying sense of urgency assailed me and I began to move with more enthusiasm than finesse.
    Wet mouths, hot, hard, damp bodies in motion. The heated scent of his skin, the addicting taste of his mouth proved to be too much and I teetered on the edge.
    He pumped his hips, his body shaking beneath mine. “I need it faster.”
    “Do it.”
    Clamping his big fist around both of our dicks, he jerked us off. “Fuck. Yes.”
    I started to come, his name on my lips as I shot my load in hot bursts of ass clenching pleasure.
    His sexy grunts of satisfaction followed.
    After my cock quit twitching and the buzzing in my head faded, I collapsed on top of him. Burying my face in the crook of his neck, my lips searching for the spot on his throat where his pulse always jumped wildly.
    But it wasn’t there, next to his voice box.
    I murmured, “That was a nice change of pace.”
    The body below mine shook with humor. “Nice? That was fucking spectacular.”
    I froze.
    Not Mick’s voice—he never swore.
    I inhaled.
    Not Mick’s scent—he always wore cologne.
    And because I was either losing my mind or a fucking masochist, when I licked the skin beneath my lips, it wasn’t the clean taste of Mick’s sweat. This was earthier. More…primal.
    I scrambled upright so fast my cock jerked free from the hand surrounding it with enough force my balls stung from the sharp pain.
    Then I was staring into slumberous blue eyes, not brown.
    The smile on the full red lips was decidedly cocky, not sweet.
    Holy fuck.
    Since Breck wore that sated look…maybe he hadn’t heard me saying another man’s name when I spurted all over his hand.
    Shame burned through me.
    I was off the bed and fastening my jeans and belt before Breck knew anything was wrong.
    So very wrong.
    “Cres? What’s goin’ on?”
    “I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I’ve gotta go.”
    “What? Jesus. Just wait a damn minute.”
    But I didn’t.
    I ran out like a fucking coward.
     

Chapter Four
    Breck
     
    The next morning I went looking for Sutton Grant.
    Most of the staff had stayed over after the party last night. And I knew from Berlin’s complaints that London wasn’t an early riser so chances were good they were still around.
    The tricky part would be asking Sutton what was wrong with his brother without rousing his suspicions. I wasn’t sure Cres would appreciate being linked to me given the fact he’d run out on me.
    Chapped my ass every time I thought about it.
    The construction workers had already disassembled the biggest tent and were packing up chairs. I cut across the road to the cafeteria.
    Sure enough, Sutton held court by the buffet.
    I sauntered over to the industrial coffee urn and filled a cup.
    The guys wrapped up their conversation as soon as I approached them. The paranoia still lingered that people were talking about me when a discussion abruptly ended if I was within earshot.
    “Morning,” I said to Sutton.
    “Hey, Breck.” He pointed with his chin to my cup of coffee. “Fair warning that London made the coffee. It’s got a serious kick.”
    I looked around for her. “Where is your better half?”
    “Helping Grandma Berlin fill my truck with more shit for Brennen. I swear we could open a damn toy store with all the stuff both sets of his grandparents buy him.”
    “You’re not really complaining, buddy.”
    Sutton smiled. “Only when I have to haul it and set it up. But the look on my boy’s face is worth it.” He paused. “What’s goin’ on with you?”
    “Just wandering around. It appears the open house was a success.”
    “Thank God it’s over. Now I’ll get my wife back. She’s been stayin’ here three nights a week getting ready for it.”
    “Shame she’s not teachin’.” I hid my smirk