Laird's Choice by Remmy Duchene (management books to read .txt) 📕

Looking downward, his eyes fell to the tattoos decorating Race's chest and arm. On the left side was a tattoo of a very pissed off tiger, and on his arm was a strange looking tribal tattoo. Moaning in rabid satisfaction, Laird wrapped his arms around Race's hips, hunched down slightly, and pulled the first bud into his mouth. Race hissed. Laird swirled his tongue over the nipple, hooking his teeth into the silver piece of jewelry and pulling slightly.

"Shit!" Race growled, tugging on Laird's hair. "Pull it harder!"

Laird did as he was ordered and Race shivered

beneath his body. Releasing the small, silver bar, he sucked the abused nipple while lifting his hand to the other and pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. His free hand was yanking at the button on the front of Race's pants. Race pushed him away and backed up. Laird growled and

attacked. He moved swiftly across the space, wrapping his arm around the back of Race's neck to take his lips. Race smirked and tried shoving him away again and together they sailed across the room and crashed into the dresser. A bottle of cologne slipped off and smashed to the floor.

Laird didn't so much as look down. They were moving again as Race struggled with him. Once more they crashed into the dresser and the other bottles there rattled. They spun around until Laird was against the dresser, pinching one of Race's nipples harder and harder.

Race's head fell backward, hair spilling beautifully over his back, but Laird didn't let him stay like that too long before the nipple was bathed by Laird's tongue again.

"Damn," Race swore, burying his fingers into Laird's hair and pushing his nipple deeper into Laird's mouth. "So damn good…"

"Was this what you wanted?" Laird asked then grazed the nipple with his teeth. "Is this how you like it, Race?"

Race grunted and slipped away from Laird. He

backed across the room, fire blazing in his eyes. Laird unbuttoned his shirt and shoved it from his shoulders. He trailed a hand over his chest and rippled abs then sank his fingers beneath the waistband of his pants. He saw Race's body change and knew the cowboy liked what he was seeing. Ever so slowly, he undid his belt then the button and pulled the zipper down. With his pants and boxers around his ankles he stepped away, pulled his arousal in a tight fist, and jerked himself slowly.

"Laird?" Winston hollered from the other side of the door.

"Go away!" Race replied, eyeing Laird's cock like his next meal.

"Is everything okay?" Winston called instead.

"I swear, Winston," Laird called. "Go away!"

There was a soft chuckle from the other side of the door before it seemed Winston left. Laird went back to taking great pleasure in watching Race's eyes change colors until the cowboy let his head fall and his hair spilled into his face. Laird moaned and let his own head fall back and his eyes drift closed. That was when Race made his move.

He was behind Laird, with one hand around Laird's hip and the other hand against Laird's back guiding him to the bed.

Once there, Laird felt himself fall forward, bouncing slightly on the bed before Race's hands were clawing at his cheeks and pulling them apart. Laird struggled to get away but couldn't before Race's long, wet tongue snaked between his cheeks and impaled him.

"Fuck!" he swore, reaching back and clutching the back of Race's head. He pushed down. "Yes!" In his pleasure, he slammed his fist into the bed then pushed upward to his knees. Race simply shoved against his ass and dove in to feed from his hole again. Laird felt it the moment his eyes rolled back into his head and his body shook violently under the delicious assault. Every slide of Race's tongue drove him farther and farther to the edge.

The idea Race hadn't freaked out with his roughness but had simply played around tore at his very core, and he pressed his eyes shut. He whimpered, clutching the sheets in both fists, and rode back against Race's tongue.

"Are you going to come for me, Laird?" Race asked, his voice a low, husky drawl.

Laird couldn't reply; he couldn't think.

"Come on, Laird," Race baited. "Speechless are we?"

Laird was too far gone to say much. All he could do was lay there, twitching, moaning, trying to think. A long, thick finger slid into him.

"Race…" he pleaded helplessly before his toes curled.

His body went stiff, and then suddenly he was

trembling. He had no power to open his eyes. His mouth opened in a silent O before his cock pulsated and erupted against the bed beneath him. His orgasm was so good it was almost painful. He rode it out, with Race's finger deep within him.

"Shit… damn, Race!" He finally found his voice before pressing his face into the bed. Race slipped from him, caressing up his back before he felt Race's weight laying atop him, pressing him sweetly into the bed. Laird moaned, accepting Race's kisses against the back of his neck and the side of his head.

"See, Laird? It's not that I don't want you. I can't seem to control myself around you. Like I said last night—

we have to take this slow, because once you find out what I've done, you'll never be able to forgive me."

"That's a way to throw cold water on a buzz," Laird moaned. "Why don't you stop saying that and tell me what happened."

"Because I need the perfect words."

"No, Race," Laird replied, rolling over. He turned his head in time to watch Race fall on his back to the bed beside him. "You don't need the perfect words—just the truth."

Their eyes met again and Race inhaled. Laird closed his eyes, pressing his face shamelessly into the cowboy's hand as Race reached up to caress his cheek and dragged a thumb over Laird's lips. "Always the truth, Laird." Race's voice hitched as he said his name. Opening his eyes, Laird bowed his head and kissed