Closer: Bay City Paranormal Investigation, Book 4

holding him down. “Come on, Sam. Fuck me hard. Or don’t you have the balls to give it to me like I want?”
The sneer on Bo’s face was what snapped Sam’s wavering control. He pried Bo’s fingers from his neck, grabbed Bo’s hips and flipped him onto his stomach. A hand planted between Bo’s shoulder blades kept him face down on the rug.
“Don’t you fucking move.” Keeping his right hand splayed on Bo’s back, Sam wrestled Bo’s pajama bottoms off one-handed and threw them aside. “Spread your legs.”
“Fuck you,” Bo spat. “Do it yourself.”
Fury boiled up inside Sam. Somewhere in a calm corner of his brain, he knew Bo was manipulating him, deliberately goading him into being rough. He knew it, and he hated that it was working. Angry at Bo and even angrier at himself, yet so turned on he could barely see straight, Sam grabbed Bo’s thighs and shoved them apart.
Shifting to kneel between Bo’s open legs, he spread Bo’s buttocks to stare at the dusky little whorl of his anus. God, but the sight excited him. He wished it wouldn’t. Bending down, he sank his teeth into one firm ass cheek. He didn’t let go until he heard Bo’s hiss of pain.
Sam sat back on his heels, both palms still planted on Bo’s ass, and pushed. Bo got the message. He tucked his knees under him and raised his butt into the air. Sam smacked the insides of his thighs, forcing his legs to open as wide as possible without making him fall flat on the floor again.
Sam took a moment to admire the sight of Bo in this vulnerable position—cheek pressed to the braided rug, ass in the air, cock and balls swinging beneath his spread thighs. A perfect set of tooth marks, still wet with Sam’s saliva, blazed red on his right buttock.
Twisting his upper body, Bo glared over his shoulder at Sam. “What’re you waiting for? Do it already.”
Sam gritted his teeth. He lunged for the bottle of piña-colada-scented lotion Cecile kept beside the sofa, poured far more than he needed into his palm, and slicked his cock. He spread the rest over Bo’s hole.
“You want me to fuck you? Fine.” Not waiting for an answer, he spread Bo open with his thumbs and penetrated him with one swift, savage thrust.
“Fuck!” Bo’s body tensed, fingers clawing at the floor. “Jesus. Move.”
Sam clamped his hands onto Bo’s hipbones and held still with a mighty effort, in spite of Bo’s demand. Bo was so tight Sam knew even the slightest movement would hurt.
Bo was having none of it. He rocked backward, forcing Sam’s cock deep inside him. His face contorted in silent agony, and Sam felt a flash of pure hatred toward Bo for making him do this to him.
“Don’t stop.” Bo’s eyes screwed shut. His voice was tight with pain. “Fuck me, come on.”
Angry and confused and hating himself for being this excited, Sam shut his eyes and let himself go. His hips pistoned, driving his prick into Bo with brutal force. With each thrust, he heard Bo grunt, felt the slap of his groin against Bo’s ass, the hot clutch of Bo’s insides around his shaft. The room smelled like sweat, sex and coconut.
Bo let out a soft little “oh”, and Sam suddenly thought about the night he’d spanked Bo and fucked him against the wall. That had been all about pleasure, not pain. Love and mutual desire, not anger or the need to punish. He wanted it to be like that again. He didn’t like Bo this way. More than that, he didn’t like himself this way.
The telltale pulsing of Bo’s hole forced Sam’s eyes open again. Bo’s eyes remained shut, his mouth falling open and his back arching as his orgasm hit. His prick, untouched by either of them, spattered the floor with globs of white. Sam came almost in spite of himself, fingertips digging into Bo’s hipbones as his cock emptied deep inside Bo.
He pulled out so fast it hurt. His own pained noise echoed Bo’s. Letting go of Bo’s hips, he stumbled to his feet, staggered backward and dropped onto the sofa. Bo fell forward onto the floor with a muffled thump. Sam thought he looked like a broken doll, lying face down with eyes closed and limbs splayed, semen leaking from his ass.
“I didn’t want to do that,” Sam said, sounding harsher than he’d intended. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
The corner of Bo’s mouth hitched up in a bitter halfsmile. “Right.”
“It’s true.” Sam drew his knees up and rested his chin on them. He felt tired and depressed. What he and Bo had just done wasn’t their usual