Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 9

touch. Well, not quite a kiss yet. Michael's left hand slid up to cup the back of Cole's head as he deepened the contact. He drew Cole's upper lip between his and gave a gentle suck before he released it and stepped back. Now that was a kiss. Well, as much of one as he was willing to give in a casino full of strangers anyway.
    "Wow." Cole held on to Michael's biceps to steady himself. "A win for you and a win for me."
    Michael chuckled. "It must be our lucky night. And to think, I'm not even wearing my lucky underwear."
    "You've got lucky underwear?"
    "Of course. Doesn't everyone?"
    "I don't know. I don't. In fact," Cole put his arm around Michael's shoulder and steered him toward the machine to cash out, "I'm not even wearing underwear tonight."
    They collected Michael's winnings and headed down the boardwalk toward the bar. The air was warm and a bit humid. It was after ten o'clock, and most of the families were trudging back to their hotels, exhausted children in tow.
    Cole's mood was flying high. He hadn't been sure if Michael would welcome his kiss, let alone return it. The way he sucked on his lip and urged him on with the pressure of his hand on the nape of his neck had short-circuited his control. If Michael hadn't stepped away from him, he would have made quite a spectacle of himself on that casino floor.
    Seeming to sense the direction of his thoughts, Michael reached over and slid his hand into the back pocket of Cole's jeans. The wicked sensual smirk on his face seemed so out of character for the wholesome boy from Ohio. So he thinks he's got the upper hand now does he. Wait till I get his ass on the dance floor, Cole plotted.
    ****
    Prohibition was crowded. Bodies were locked together like puzzle pieces. Cutting through the mass to reach the bar, Cole could feel the slide of arms and thighs against his. He'd learned to accept the sensations out of necessity over the years. Trolling places like this looking for quick anonymous hook-ups was how Cole had avoided dating. How he avoided letting anyone in.
    They ordered drinks and managed to make their way to a quiet corner without spilling too much. "You like it," Cole had to shout so he could be heard over the thumping music.
    Like it? It was a fucking aphrodisiac. Bodies writhing on the dance floor. The smell of sweat. The sensual rhythm of the music practically had him gyrating his hips. He swallowed. He should not have tried to play Cole's game. He was out of his league. "Uh. It's different. The clubs I've been to there aren't…. It wasn't so…. Sex. This place screams sex."
    "We can go if you want. You said you liked dancing, and I just thought this was what you meant."
    "No, no. It's fine. I just…." Michael hedged. He didn't want to seem like a country bumpkin or a virgin at an orgy. "What I said was I haven't been dancing in a long time." He hung his head in embarrassment and mumbled, "As in not since my high school prom."
    Cole could just scream with how fucking adorable Michael was! He didn't want him to feel ashamed about it for a second so he took their drinks, set them on the ledge and grabbed Michael's hand. "Well, come on then, sailor. I think it's time you brushed up on your moves."
    The rest of the night was spent in a haze of lust and sensation. Cole had dragged Michael out to the dance floor and let the music and flashing lights take over. At first, he had been reluctant and stiff. Barely bobbing to the music. Cole had placed his hands on Michael's hips and encouraged him to move.
    Michael eventually let all his worry, embarrassment, and nervousness float away into the crowd of sweaty flesh. He let himself go and just moved. And it was glorious! He raised his arms and rotated his hips. He bent one arm, sliding his hand down from his wrist to rest on the opposite shoulder. All the while his hips gyrated and rolled in a sensual invitation. He let his hand slide around his neck to the front then down across his nipple, angling in toward his navel.
    Lost in the moment. Free of responsibility and burdens. His hand continued down, following the trail of hair he knew lay beneath his clothing. He rolled his abs and arched his pelvis just as his hand slid over his cock and quickly cupped his balls before returning back up to his hip.
    Fucking A! Cole could have come in his jeans watching Michael give in to the music and move. He moved back a little to give him some space, and so he could watch. The rippling movement of his abs and thrust of his