Barely Undercover

Chapter One Boston, Massachusetts “Finally, dammit.” Kaz pressed the search warrant between his fingertips. His informant had come through and the judge had supported Kaz’s affidavit of probable cause. As if there were any question that two indirect purchases made by Collins on the premises of Club Moritz would constitute probable cause. According to what Collins was able to glean, there was supposedly a shipment being stored in the club. In that case, Brady was using the Moritz to store and sell millions of dollars worth of cocaine and Kaz needed to take him down before he made the area unsafe. Kaz could practically taste the end of this investigation. After six months of painstaking work, time and money spent on Collins—a former male prostitute with a record who was willing to trade information to escape arrest—a bust was within reach. Well, almost. There was one little obstacle. Kaz carefully folded the warrant and slipped it into his jacket pocket. He sat at his desk, the open case folder spread before him. The question remained of what was the most effective way to infiltrate the club and search for the stash without alerting Brady to a police presence. Deep in thought, Kaz tapped his pen against his forehead while the phones and murmured voices droned on in the background of District A-1, Drug Control Unit of the Boston Police Department. There were several possible ways to infiltrate Club Moritz, but he had to pick the one that was the least risky both to the club’s patrons and to himself. Club Moritz was a high-end gay nightclub famed for the hottest male strippers and dancers to show skin…lots of skin. Kaz had been to the place a few times in his younger years—not that thirty-eight was that old—and had met Damien there. Well, met was not exactly the right word. Fallen head-over-heels, too-deep-to-get-out kind of love was more the way he’d put it. One glance up at that stage had done it. The show had just started and Damien writhed and slunk his way on. Of course, all the guys up there had been hot, but Kaz had gotten an instant hard-on watching Damien. Something about the guy, his sleek, muscular body, the delicious trail of chestnut hair down the center of his tight abs, that perfect ass and…well…killer green eyes, had made Kaz an instant love slave. Kaz bit down on the end of his pen. He sighed and shifted in his seat. Don’t go there. Thinking of Damien was the only thing that ever distracted him from his usual bulldog way of grasping a case and working on it obsessively to the finish. Just picturing the guy in his mind made Kaz’s c**k tingle. After several more moments of considering, Kaz decided that undercover was definitely the correct track. He sketched a quick list of possibilities and went down the line. He could pose as a buyer, make a couple of direct purchases and then raid the place. No. He scratched that off the list. Cocaine and guns always went together. The club was on Tremont Street, a busy area and Kaz refused to jeopardize the lives of innocent bystanders who could get caught in possible crossfire. Next possibility. Have his insider make some indirect purchases and try to find out where the stuff was stored. Then, when Kaz had enough evidence built up, stage a raid. Kaz scratched that one off too. It was too risky and too complicated to get an informant that involved in this particular case. One bad move and Brady and his goons would clear the place of every kilo before Kaz had a chance to set foot in there. All of Kaz’s work would be gone and he’d have to start again from square one. Next choice. Bartender? He scratched it right off. He only knew how to make a few drinks and to learn enough about cocktail making to look natural would take time and energy he didn’t have. Bouncer. Scratch. The position would familiarize him with the faces going into the place but wouldn’t allow him enough time inside to search. That left…stripper. Kaz raked a hand through his hair. That he could do. He was athletic enough and had the muscular build needed to be considered attractive enough to show it off. And, with a little coaching, he could learn the moves that would make him a convincing stripper. His heartbeat sped up a bit and butterflies kicked up in his gut. There was only one person he knew of who could teach him in a pinch how to be a male stripper. Yeah, and that same one person came with a big problem. Damien Royce hated his guts. Kaz sighed again. He went to scratch the word stripper off his list and paused, pen hovering above the paper. His mind flickered over the other possibilities again. Each one came up sorely lacking. Stripper was the only one that really worked. He had no choice. He had to move as quickly as possible and search the place before Brady had a chance to move his inventory elsewhere. Kaz’s stomach tightened and he checked his watch. If Damien still taught English at the University of Massachusetts Boston campus, he was probably in class right now. Barely a few minutes’ drive away. Kaz sighed again and rose heavily from his desk. He’d have to take a chance that Damien loved him enough to hear him out. Kaz locked the case folder in his desk drawer, told his chief where he was going, and headed out. * * * * * “As you can see by his references in The Tempest, Shakespeare wrote this play as his farewell to the theater.” Damien looked up from his place at the lectern and scanned the faces in the lecture hall. He sighed. Freshman were so fidgety in the spring and he felt like a cruel taskmaster keeping them inside and trying to interest them in Elizabethan literature when they were all probably just dying to get laid. God knew, he felt that way. His body too, was in the throes of spring fever. It was days like this, perfect spring days with that sweet-smelling air, cool, yet warm from the sun, that he and Kaz had done some of their hottest f*****g… Damien’s grip tightened on the sides of the lectern. He glanced at the clock then back at the students. Half the girls were staring at him with an I-want-you-for-lunch look on their faces. Damien suppressed a chuckle. So, the buzz he’d heard among teaching assistants was true. The upper class women who helped out with orientation coached the incoming freshman to take Professor Royce’s Intro. To English Lit. class. They weren’t here because the immortal bard fascinated them as much as the professor did. Only ten minutes remained in the class anyway. “I tell you what,” Damien said. “Go on and get out of here. Enjoy the spring day. Just make sure you get your final papers in on time. If you have any questions, you know my office hours.” A cascade of flirty smiles and thank yous passed through the room followed by the shoving of chairs and gathering of book bags. Damien shook his head and gathered up his own notes. Good thing for his ego that the upper level English majors and grad students took his classes because they wanted to and not only because they thought the professor was hot. He slipped his papers and his copy of The Tempest into his briefcase and headed out to enjoy the spring day himself. Not that there was someone in his life to enjoy it with. He stepped out of the classroom and froze. His heartbeat kicked up several notches. What the— Damien tightened his grip on the handle of his briefcase and cleared his throat. “Detective Kazaminsky.” He fought to keep his voice calm. Some balls the guy had, showing up here, looking drop-dead hot as usual. Kaz’s nearly jet black hair still had that run-your-fingers-through-it silkiness even though he kept it super short. His broad chest was perfectly outlined in a white t-shirt, as were his bulging thighs in the battered blue jeans he always wore. “Hi, Damien.” And the face. Kaz knew how to give him the face. Big dark eyes, simmering with a mixture of emotions, part s**t-eating grin with those male supermodel sculpted lips, part I’m-your-love-slave and part…sweet. Kaz was Charles Bronson, the Marlboro Man and a few other hot macho guys all wrapped up into one body, standing a few feet away, emanating testosterone. Some f*****g balls. The bastard had broken up with him in cold blood, disappeared with barely a phone call in six months and had the nerve to show up here, unannounced? Damien had dreamed endlessly of this particular moment. The moment when Kaz would actually show up. In each fantasy, Damien punched Kaz in the jaw or eye, anyplace that would leave a nice dark bruise. So why did he just want to throw his briefcase down and rip the bastard’s clothes off? f**k. Damien did his best to glare at Kaz. He shouldn’t be thrilled to see the guy. He should hate him for breaking his heart. Should. Unfortunately, life wasn’t so simple. He cleared his throat. “What the hell are you doing here?” Kaz stepped closer, hands in his jacket pockets. The spicy scent of aftershave invaded the air around them. Damien breathed it in and already felt a hard-on stirring in his slacks. Of course, it was the cologne Damien had given Kaz for his birthday last October. Just before Kaz stomped all over his heart. “Damien, do you have…I mean…” He took a deep breath. “I need your help.” Damien stared at him, heart pounding, c**k threatening to get erect. “My help? What the hell for?” Kaz’s hand came out of his pocket—a hand that had stroked, probed and caressed Damien a million times—and raked through that black soft hair. “Look, I’ll explain everything. Just not here.” Kaz shifted his weight. The look in his eyes—his sinfully dark eyes under thick lashes—conveyed urgency. Damien sighed. His mind swirled, right along with his s*x-starved body. He shifted his briefcase from one hand to the other, waiting for the initial shock of seeing Kaz to settle a bit so he could think more clearly. Another deep breath and a bit of reason trickled in. Kaz was desperate if he’d risked Damien’s wrath to show up. Damien sighed. Of course he’d help him. He was still madly in love with the guy, and had been since he was twenty-three. Kaz had been his first guy. And only guy. Weird, considering Damien had been a male stripper. Damien knew he was a hopeless romantic, but that’s what kept him going in the times when Frank let being a detective invade their relationship. After thirteen years Damien wasn’t going to abandon the man he loved. But…it wouldn’t hurt Frank to do a little begging, either. He gave Kaz what he hoped was a quelling look. “All right, Frank. I’ll hear what you have to say and then decide if I’ll help you.” He started walking and Kaz fell into step next to him. Damien suppressed a smile. Damn, it was good to see him. “I’m finished here for the day. You can give me a ride home.” * * * * * Damien was giving him that stony silence he was so good at. Kaz had been on the receiving end of it more than once in thirteen years…as in every time he pissed Damien off. Which was regularly. Kaz walked with one hand in his jacket pocket, fingers curled around the small bottle of prescription beta blockers he kept with him at all times. The real reason he felt he’d needed to break up with Damien. He glanced at Damien’s profile as they walked to his car. The long lashes, his smooth bone structure, the bump in his nose Damien had gotten from a fight in his teens and that chestnut hair. Damien wore it a bit longish in that raggedy Goo Goo Dolls style. Damn. Even pissed off Damien was gorgeous. And pissed off he was. For good reason. Kaz had broken off their relationship with some lame excuse about work. True, work consumed him much of the time and they’d never officially lived together. Kaz had to live in the Boston city limits because of his work and Damien wasn’t about to sell his beautiful family house in Cambridge. However, even in the worst times, Kaz had always made time at least for a quickie once in a while. This time, he’d just disappeared, absorbed in chasing down the Brady cocaine ring. Damien had suspected Kaz was cheating on him. He was, if you counted secretive doctor’s visits, x-rays, EKGs and all that. Kaz waited until they were in his car and he’d pulled out into traffic before he broke Damien’s cold silence. “What I need your help with, Damien, is this case I’ve been working on.” Damien huffed. “I’m well, Detective, thanks for asking. Gee, Damien, I haven’t seen you in so long. You look great. How have you been these past six months since I stomped all over your heart?” Damien’s voice radiated hurt. Kaz heard it through the sarcasm. He knew his lover too well after thirteen years not to hear Damien’s true feelings. Even if he hadn’t been a detective with finely honed listening skills, he would have understood. Damien was madly in love with him, had given up stripping and exotic dancing as soon as it was clear the two of them had something special, even though the tips alone were paying Damien’s college tuition. Kaz sat quietly and took the verbal lashing he knew he deserved. “I’ll tell you how I am, Frank,” Damien went on, “I’m just fine.” He fell silent. Again, Kaz heard the sound beneath the words. Damien missed the hell out of him. It was mutual. “I’m sorry, Dame.” Kaz kept his eyes on the heavy mid-afternoon Boston traffic. “I should have at least asked you how you were.” “Damn right you should have.” Damien sounded calmer. “Now, continue what you were saying.” Kaz cleared his throat, tightened his hands on the steering wheel. He explained the situation to Damien. When he’d finished…silence. Dead silence. Kaz kept driving and by the time he’d crossed over the Charles River Bridge, Damien still hadn’t said a word. If Kaz hadn’t been negotiating city traffic, he would have looked at Damien. As it was, he could only imagine Damien’s large, guileless green eyes staring at him, his full, Cupid’s bow-shaped lips slightly parted. Kaz could almost hear Damien’s thoughts. “Well, Detective, I admit I didn’t expect this.” The sarcastic edge of Damien’s tone was mixed now with quiet shock. Kaz reached into his inner pocket, slipped the warrant out and held it out to Damien. “If you don’t believe me, here’s the warrant. I came to see you the minute I got it.” Another moment passed. Damien didn’t take the paper from Kaz’s hand. “Put that away, Detective. I’m insulted.” Damien sounded hurt again. “I’m sorry.” Chastened, Kaz slipped the paper back into his pocket and continued to drive. They were almost to Damien’s house off Inman Square. Damien’s parents had left him and his sister the place, but Carrie had moved to Michigan when she got married so Damien had the house to himself. Kaz cleared his throat as the memories resurfaced. Damien’s house was a cozy place of hardwood floors, potted plants and overstuffed plushy furniture arranged in front of a huge fireplace. He and Damien had spent countless hours holed up together in that house, licking, tasting and f*****g every inch of each other. Damien remained quiet until Kaz parked at the curb. He threw on the parking brake and turned to Damien. Damien was looking down at his hands. Kaz’s heartbeat sped up. If Damien refused to help him, he’d have to find another way into Club Moritz. A riskier way, perhaps. And if Damien agreed to help him, it meant spending time with him, learning how to get naked in a really seductive way. The way that had made him crazy for Damien in the first place. “So, can you help me? I know I’ve no right to ask you for—” Damien cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Enough said, Detective.” His voice was soft now and his green gaze fixed on Kaz’s. Damien’s large, mesmerizing eyes never failed to heat Kaz’s blood. Even when he used to watch Damien strip on stage, he was as attracted to the soulful look in Damien’s gaze as much as by his incredible body. “Cut the crap, Frank. You know I’ll help you. When have I ever said no to you?” Damien picked up his briefcase and opened the car door. “Come on. We’ll start now.” * * * * * The moment Kaz stepped into Damien’s house, a pang hit him. He realized how much he’d missed it, how deeply a part of his life this place had become. Cozy, neat, orderly, smelling of dried roses and lemon-scented furniture polish. Kaz slipped his shoes off by the front door and stepped in. He raked his gaze over the room and his body tingled to life. Like Pavlov’s dogs salivating when they heard the bell ring, Kaz got horny, looking at all the surfaces he and Damien had anointed with their sweaty naked bodies pressed together. Sofas, chairs, rugs, table tops. Wait. On one tabletop—the dining room table—a vase of roses exploded in colors. Damien loved roses. Jealousy raked Kaz’s gut. “Who’re the roses from?” The question was out before he could stop himself. Damien had set down his briefcase and was in the middle of opening the living room windows to let in fresh air. He threw a glance over his shoulder, one eyebrow arched. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He straightened away from the window and turned, arms folded. A mischievous look danced in his green eyes. “Since when do you care who sends me flowers, Detective?” Kaz felt tortured. How could he explain that he’d broken up with Damien because of his damn heart problem? By the way, Damien, I have a bad ticker and can’t give you enough s*x because of it. That’s why I disappeared. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.” Damien sighed. The look on his face softened. “Dammit, I can’t even enjoy tormenting you for a second. They’re from Carrie. She sent them for my birthday.” Damien’s sister. Now Kaz felt like a complete asshole. Damien’s birthday last week was the first one in thirteen years Kaz had let slide by without even a phone call. He hadn’t forgotten, but hadn’t felt like he should make contact with him. No sense giving Damien false hope. It was nearly impossible to be near Damien without wanting to jump his bones. He moved a couple of steps closer to Damien. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…call you on your birthday.” A look of complete sadness slipped into Damien’s eyes. He stood silent for a moment, then waved his hand. “Let’s not go there, all right?” He sighed and then scanned the room. “There’s enough space here, I think, for your…um…lesson.” He went over to his stereo and ran an index finger down a perfectly organized cassette holder. “Unlike regular dancing, stripping can be done in a condensed space if needed.” He looked at the cassettes a moment longer then plucked one out. “Here it is. Music from my dark secret past.” Damien put the tape into the machine and pressed a button. In seconds, Marvin Gaye was crooning, “Let’s Get it On.” A grin tugged at Damien’s lips and his green eyes had taken on that seductive look, the one that had changed Kaz’s life the first time he saw it. Damien pulled out a dining room chair and set it facing the empty floor space. “All right, Detective, have a seat. You’re the audience for now.” * * * * * Kaz sat down. Damien hadn’t even started and Kaz already felt the slight increase in his heart rate. He thought of the bottle of pills in his jacket pocket. “For your purposes,” Damien went on, “You just need to do something simple and slow. No need for gymnastics or fancy steps. Just moves that ooze sex.” He stepped back and closed his eyes. Kaz watched Damien slip into a different mode. Kaz’s breath tightened a bit and he felt sweat on his palms. When Damien opened his eyes that seductive look remained and his grin deepened. He started winding his slim hips. “Just get into a groove. Relax. This…” he indicated his chest and stomach, then slid his hands, palm down, on his hips, pulling Kaz’s attention to the bulge in front, “is the main attraction. Every move you make is intended to keep them looking right here…and here.” Damien turned around. He continued to wind his hips. Each movement made his hard, perfectly shaped ass strain against his beige slacks. Kaz’s mouth watered. “It works,” he mumbled. Damien swung back around. “A figure eight, slow and easy, will do the trick.” He took hold of his jacket and held it open while he undulated his hips. “Once you have your rhythm going, you can start the teasing.” He grinned and pulled the jacket back so it slipped off his shoulders. “Ease things off. No rush. Make them drool.” Shit. Damien hadn’t even taken off a stitch and Kaz could feel his c**k tighten, strain against his briefs. He stared, mesmerized. Nothing was better than watching Damien. No sunrise, no mountain or forest was preferable to looking at this man’s huge green eyes, thick soft hair and perfectly sculpted, delicious body. “Got what I’m saying so far?” Damien ground his hips in seductive circles even as he spoke. Kaz nodded. The power of speech eluded him. Damien chuckled. “Yeah, you’ve got that I hear you look in your eyes.” He eased the jacket further down his arms. “The key to getting the clothing off is—don’t do any move you can’t do in a seductive way. Follow the beat of the music Feel it in your blood. Let it guide you.” A dip in the rhythm of the song provided a beat in which Damien straightened his arms low behind him, let the jacket slide off his arms and to the floor in one smooth movement. In the very next beat, he resumed that seductive grind of his hips and moved his hands up his torso as if he were feeling himself up. Kaz caught his breath. Heat collected under his t-shirt, made his heart increase more. His c**k was almost completely hard and pushed against his briefs. If he was already this hot now, what the hell would he do when he could see Damien’s bare skin? His gaze stayed riveted on Damien’s hands. His masculine hands, beautifully shaped, nails neatly trimmed, traveled over the bulge of his c**k, swept down his thighs, slid up his hips and over his ass in seductive circles before skimming back up to the knot of his tie. Never losing a beat with the mouth-watering sway of those tapered hips, Damien worked loose the knot of his tie. “I don’t recommend a tie for beginners,” he said, a mischievous tinge to his voice. “Jacket yes. Tie no.” Kaz nodded. Swallowed past a lump in his throat. He forced himself to pay attention to Damien’s technique and to what Damien was saying. Nearly impossible when all he wanted was to see Damien’s chest, rounded firm pecs with just the right amount of smooth, chestnut hair; reddish brown n*****s the size of nickels, that is, until you sucked on them or pinched them, and they tightened to tiny peaks. Damien loosened the tie, slipped it out from his collar with a sexy flourish. He danced his way toward Kaz. “Club Moritz likes interactive strippers,” he said. “You can do this part with a belt, rather than a tie.” He slunk closer and slipped the tie across the back of Kaz’s neck. A gentle pull on the ends and the soft pressure made Kaz lean forward slightly. Damien leaned down, still winding his hips. His closeness brought a whiff of his male scent laced with cologne. Kaz inhaled. He’d always loved the way that spicy aroma mixed with Damien’s natural musk. Damien tilted his pelvis toward Kaz and ground slowly, the figure eight pattern that brought the bulge of his c**k dangerously close. Back and forth he wound, inches away. The pull of his hands on the tie, his scent and his close grinding pelvis made Kaz dizzy. The urge to lunge forward, pull Damien onto his lap, to feel Damien’s ass rub his c**k, nearly overwhelmed him. Just as quickly, Damien released the tie. The silky material slid across Kaz’s neck and Damien danced back several steps. He grinned. Green eyes wicked, full of mischief. No way in hell Damien didn’t see the effect he was having. Damien tossed the tie aside and worked open the top button of his shirt. From the corner of his eye, Kaz saw the maroon silk slip to the hardwood floor, but his main focus was the widening gap of Damien’s shirt. Button by button, with painstaking slowness, Damien opened his shirt. The visible swath of delicious flesh widened until the shirt hung open, revealing Damien’s torso in all its glory. Good, Damien thought as he danced. I have you right where I want, you, you bastard. Kaz was panting. His deliciously broad chest heaved under the t-shirt and his dark eyes had that glazed look he always got when he was aroused. Damien hated that he had to resort to seduction to keep Kaz in place, but so be it. Kaz was the love of his life and Damien wouldn’t let the bastard get away from him a second time. At least not without a decent explanation for breaking his heart. And, hopefully, not without at least a blow job. He clasped his hands behind his head and wound his hips. He couldn’t help a satisfied grin at the growing bulge in Kaz’s jeans and at the way the big galoot—his galoot—licked his lips, eyes large and staring at Damien’s body. The song ended and segued into an equally seductive crooning kind of song. “Between the Sheets”. Perfect. Damien never broke a stride as he undid the buckle of his belt and slid the leather out of the loops. He leaned over, ran the strap across the broad expanse of Kaz’s chest then danced away just as the large man’s breath hitched. Damien tossed the belt to the side and made a big show of undoing his trousers. Kaz’s eyes got huge and Damien saw beads of sweat on the guy’s brow. He felt a twinge of guilt for teasing him so badly, especially seeing how Kaz’s n*****s poked out his t-shirt. But wasn’t that why Kaz was here? To learn how to strip? Conscience eased somewhat, Damien pulled open his trousers and let Kaz have a glimpse of his red bikinis. The waistband was slung low enough to give a hint of pubic hair and Damien saw Kaz’s tongue slid across his firm lips a second time. Damn. His own c**k was getting hard and made his bikinis tight from the bulge. He’d never had a problem with that in his dancing days. Back then, the concentration was on giving a show, not getting turned on. But here, with Kaz watching him, and the history of bone melting, soul-searing s*x between them, staying soft was impossible. Damien turned his back to Kaz and worked off his pants. Fingers on the waistband, he slid them down, inch by inch, moving his ass in a seductive circle. “The best thing to do with pants,” he said, “is let them drop to your ankles and then step out of them, as gracefully as you can.” That said, he swallowed hard and demonstrated. When he’d stepped clear of the pants, he pushed them aside with one foot. Kaz didn’t answer, but Damien could hear the man’s heavy breathing over the music. He kept his back to Kaz. Strange, but he felt suddenly shy…and foolish, standing there almost naked except for his red bikinis and a raging hard-on. Now came the tricky part. Damien gave himself a moment to get back into the swing of the music. He needed to forget who it was sitting there, staring hard at his almost-naked body. Even though Damien’s back was still to Kaz, Damien could practically feel the man’s hungry gaze on his bare skin. Slowly, he danced his way around to face Kaz. Kaz sat in the chair, face flushed. Damien looked down at Kaz’s hands and almost laughed. Kaz gripped the sides of the chair so hard his knuckles had turned white. Damien stopped moving and stood there, his erection tight to the point of serious discomfort. “Are you all right?” he asked. Kaz nodded. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, fine.” Disappointment stabbed Damien. He realized he’d wanted to hear Kaz say, “Get over here so I can suck your cock.” Kaz had said things like that a million times in the past. Damien nodded, pulled himself together. No point humiliating himself any further. “All right. Now, when you get to this point, that’s when you go for the tips. Take out a dollar bill.” He watched Kaz pull out his wallet and open it. “All right.” He held up the dollar. Damien got back into the swing of grinding his hips. “What you do is, when you see them holding out their money, dance your way across the front of the crowd and just lean in enough to let them stick the money in your string.” He wound his hips in that easy circle and got close enough for Kaz to slip the money into the waistband. Kaz looked hesitant. For several moments, his hand remained suspended outward, gaze locked onto the boner tenting Damien’s red briefs. Damien tilted closer and Kaz slipped the dollar under the waistband. His fingertips brushed Damien’s hipbone, dangerously close to his pubic area. Damien suppressed a groan. He froze, dance forgotten. Just the warm touch of Kaz’s fingertips made him crazy. Kaz’s touch was the only one he trusted. Gentle, boyish, appreciative and passionate all at once, that touch had eased away horrid painful memories more than a thousand times. Months’ worth of yearning welled up in Damien. Overwhelmed him. He no longer cared one little s**t about the possible reason Kaz had disappeared. All that mattered was he was here. Now. Damien stepped closer. The sexy music provided the background to their heavy aroused breathing. Kaz stared back at him, velvety lips slightly parted. Damien knew that look too well. The I’ll-do-anything-you-want look. But he didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. Damn. Damien braced himself and stood in one place. “I need to show you how to dance away from the Johnny pockets,” he said. That was his nickname for the guys who tried to cop a feel when they stuffed the dollar bill under the string. Ironically, it had been one of those Johnny pockets, a drunk, testosterone-ridden ’roid monster who’d tried to rape him in the alley behind the Moritz when he was leaving, that had led to meeting Kaz. Or more precisely, Kaz’s ripping the guy off Damien and punching his lights out had led to their meeting. Damien slipped the dollar bill out and handed it back to Kaz. Kaz took the money back. He remained silent, staring up at Damien. Damien started moving again, danced closer to Kaz. “Now, you’re going to put the bill in again, but this time, try to cop a feel.” Kaz nodded. “Okay.” His voice came out husky. Sexy. Damien inched closer and ground his hips. “Now,” he said. Kaz pulled the waistband of Damien’s briefs out. He struggled to hold on while Damien danced. Damien saw the tension in the grip of Kaz’s fingers on the elastic. The fingertips of his other hand brushed Damien’s erection. Ohhhh. Hot pleasure shot up Damien’s c**k. Kaz dipped his hand in further. Damien stepped back to dodge Kaz’s hand. Too late. Damien lost his rhythm and caught himself just before stumbling. He got his balance and looked down, mortified. His c**k, hard enough to cut diamonds, stuck halfway out of his briefs. And Kaz was staring at it with a really hungry look. Damien knew that look too well. The desire it conveyed shivered through his whole body, right into his balls. Damien’s head swam. His resolve slipped. All he wanted was Kaz’s mouth on his c**k. He needed Kaz’s hands all over him, making him feel so good, so safe and desired all at once. “Kaz,” he whispered. The name slipped out, before he remembered his dignity. He stared at Kaz, pulled Kaz’s gaze upward. Kaz stared back. Still silent, dammit. What did he want, an engraved invitation? Was he out to torment Damien, to make him beg for love? No, Kaz wouldn’t do that. He knew too much about what had happened to Damien as a kid. He would do or say anything that would make Damien relive the humiliation, the pain of violation. Would he? Damien wanted to turn around, pull his briefs up and turn off the music. But he couldn’t. The one guy he loved in all the world was right here, in front of him. Kaz’s pale face was flushed. Spots of color tinged his cheeks. His lips were parted. He so obviously wanted it. “Are you going to make me beg?” Damien heard his own voice. Shaky, scared. Guilt slipped over Kaz’s eyes. He shook his head. The look on his face shifted, darkened and Damien felt something in him break open. Kaz reached for him. “Get over here,” he whispered. Damien stepped forward. Kaz’s large hands closed over Damien’s hips, slid over his ass and gently pulled him closer. The warm touch invaded Damien. He hissed a breath of release and surrendered, cradled Kaz’s head as Kaz pressed a hot kiss onto Damien’s stomach. Damien moaned softly. Finally! His eyes fluttered closed and his world funneled down to the feel of those soft lips on his skin, on how Kaz feathered his hot tongue over Damien’s stomach muscles with tender passion. Kaz swiveled the tip of his tongue in Damien’s belly button while he eased the briefs down. They slid to Damien’s knees, then to his ankles. In the next second, Kaz leaned down and took Damien’s c**k in his mouth. Damien groaned, threw his head back. He tightened his fingers over Kaz’s smooth hair, too short to wind his fingers into. Kaz squeezed his lips on Damien’s c**k, leaned down and took him in deep. Ahhh, Damien released a shivery breath. He was in heaven now. God, Damien was delicious. Damien’s sweet flavor filled Kaz’s taste buds and the silky skin of c**k slid against his tongue as he swallowed him as deeply as he could. He’d needed to do this as much as Damien needed it from him. He just hadn’t realized how badly until now. Damien’s fingers moved on his scalp, tiny brushes of his fingertips that conveyed his enjoyment. “Kaz,” he whispered over and over again. Through his haze, Kaz heard Damien’s need, heard how much Damien wanted him. He pulled back on Damien’s thick c**k, over the smooth skin, the tiny bumps of veins to the head. He tightened his lips and sucked. Damien groaned. A drop of c*m oozed from the tiny hole and Kaz licked it up, relished the salty flavor. Damien’s flavor. He slowed down, savored every inch of Damien’s delicious c**k. “Don’t stop.” Damien’s whisper was ragged. “Please.” Kaz shook his head and squeezed Damien’s ass. He loved that ass. Those hard pale globes fit perfectly in his hands, as if Damien had been made for him. At least that’s how it felt. Kaz slipped the fingers of one hand into the crevice and sought out Damien’s tight hole. Damien sucked in a breath. “Yes,” he breathed. His fingers tightened on Kaz’s head and he bucked his hips lightly against the rhythm of Kaz’s mouth on his c**k. Kaz had never sucked a guy who hadn’t loved it, but the way Damien thrashed and grabbed and whispered his name showed an appreciation that went beyond the physical pleasure, as if nothing else would satisfy him but Kaz. “Please, please, don’t stop.” The fevered order urged Kaz on. He pushed a fingertip into Damien’s ass. “Ooohh.” Damien groaned and sagged against Kaz’s hand. Kaz pushed it in further and swallowed up Damien’s c**k all at once. “f**k,” Damien ground out. His c**k twitched in Kaz’s mouth. Kaz pulled back and swirled his tongue around the plump head, followed the ridges and contours with the tip and licked up another drop of pre-c*m. He pushed a second finger into Damien and pushed it in deep, stretched Damien open gently, then took Damien’s c**k in his mouth again. Damien clutched at Kaz’s hair. His c**k twitched again and erupted. Kaz swallowed the hot spurts, one after the other, milked every ounce of pleasure Damien’s body could give him. As if to make up every moment Kaz had deprived Damien of in the past six months. Damien groaned. The tension drained from his body. His hands eased on Kaz’s head and he sagged against Kaz’s hands. Kaz slipped his fingers from Damien’s ass and pulled Damien onto his lap. Damien straddled him and buried his face in the curve of Kaz’s neck. Kaz held him, still tasting Damien’s flavor on his tongue and in his throat. Damien’s back heaved under his hands. In the background, the soft, sexy music still played. Kaz took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He breathed in Damien’s scent and caressed his skin, damp with sweat. His own c**k was harder than granite and pushed against Damien’s bottom. Any moment now, Damien would probably start pouring out his feelings. He almost always did that after s*x. Giving Damien a blowjob was like injecting him with truth serum. Damien brushed his lips against Kaz’s neck. His hands rested on Kaz’s shoulders and he squeezed them while he nuzzled Kaz’s neck. Kaz took a deep breath and tilted his head. Damien’s kisses heated, as did his caresses. He nibbled Kaz’s jaw and throat and slid his hands up the back of Kaz’s neck into his hair. Kaz sighed. He cradled Damien’s back in his hands. Mmm, that warm skin over sleek muscles. Damien was incredible. Hot, sexy, loving. And sweet. Perfect. “I’ve missed you so much,” Damien breathed between feathery soft kisses. He rained a trail of kisses across Kaz’s lips and cheeks. “I miss you. I’m sorry if I drove you away. I’m so sorry.” Guilt stabbed Kaz. Damien sounded tortured, sad. He had reason to be. He’d trusted Kaz with his heart as well as his body. That had been nearly impossible for him after being abused. So many times Kaz wished he could have beaten up that uncle the way he’d beaten up the bastard in the alley that night. How anyone could hurt a guy like Damien. And yet, he’d hurt him too. “Kaz, please. Tell me you forgive me.” Damien smothered the side of his neck with kisses and groped wildly at him. Shit. This was wrong. Gently he grasped Damien’s upper arms. “Damien stop. Stop, please.” He worked Damien off him and held him far away enough to look into his eyes. Damien stared down at him, green eyes wide, face flushed. He clutched Kaz’s shoulders. “What? What is it?” Kaz sighed. He looked briefly away, plagued with guilt. How could he have let Damien go this long believing he’d driven his lover away? “Listen, sweetheart, I…have something to tell you.”