Twilight: Bay City Paranormal Investigations, Book 3

underneath the fury. Kicking off his shoes, Sam rested his head on Bo’s chest and curled his body around Bo. “I don’t know,” he answered softly. “I just tell myself it doesn’t matter what those people think.”
He didn’t voice the fact that sometimes it did matter, when some of the worst homophobes held positions of power over your life. Or when you’re walking down the street and a crowd of those whose opinions shouldn’t matter follow you, laughing and calling you “fag” or worse, making you feel vulnerable and angry and afraid. It wouldn’t help to remind Bo of things he already knew.
Tucking a hand beneath Sam’s chin, Bo tilted his face up and brushed a soft kiss across his mouth. “Do you think we have time?”
The need in Bo’s whispered voice sent Sam’s pulse racing. “I hope so, because I really want you right now.”
Bo didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. The way he attacked Sam’s mouth, with teeth and tongue and open, hungry lips, expressed his desire with perfect clarity. His hand clamped onto the back of Sam’s head, fisting in his hair to hold him in place.
Sam would’ve smiled at that if his mouth hadn’t been otherwise occupied. An army couldn’t have dragged him away from Bo’s kiss.
The kiss went on for long, wonderful minutes. Sam only broke it when his cock began to scream for relief he couldn’t obtain through rubbing his denim-entrapped crotch against Bo’s similarly clothed thigh. Nuzzling Bo’s chin up, Sam licked a wet line up his throat. The tastes of sweat, skin and lust shot fire through his blood, and he growled.
The sound seemed to ramp up Bo’s excitement. He whimpered, thighs spreading so he could hook a leg around Sam’s hips. “God, Sam. Suck me?”
At that moment, Sam was convinced a better idea had never been conceived in the entire history of the world. However, he knew without a doubt that he was far too close to release himself to be able to hold out. With Bo’s taste and scent and the texture of his skin filling Sam’s senses, he would shoot all over the bed without so much as a touch from Bo. And he desperately wanted Bo to touch him.
Pushing up on one hand, Sam stared down into Bo’s eyes. “Sixty-nine?”
A visible shudder ran through Bo’s body. His eyelids fluttered closed. He took three slow, deep breaths, opened his eyes again and pinned Sam with a smoldering stare. “That would be nice.”
Sam had to laugh. Of all the things they’d tried in bed, simultaneously sucking each other off was Bo’s number one favorite. So much so that he rarely allowed it, claiming it was special and therefore shouldn’t be overused.
The corners of Bo’s mouth turned up in a sly smile. “Stop laughing and start sucking.”
Still snickering, Sam pulled off Bo’s shirt, then his own. He bent and took Bo’s right nipple into his mouth, sucking gently and rolling the little bud with his tongue. Bo moaned, one hand kneading Sam’s back, the other buried in his hair. Closing his teeth around the hardened nub of flesh, Sam tugged until Bo let out a hiss, then let go and turned his attention to the other nipple.
When he had Bo squirming beneath him, reduced to incoherent babble, Sam climbed off the bed and skinned out of his jeans and underwear. Bo watched, panting, one palm rubbing his crotch. He made no move to remove his own pants, Sam noted with satisfaction. Bo knew how much Sam loved to undress him.
Naked, Sam knelt over Bo’s knees. He flipped open the button of Bo’s jeans and tugged the zipper down, watching Bo’s face the whole time. Bo stared straight into his eyes, as he often did. Sam loved it. He’d never before had a lover who didn’t shut his eyes or look away during sex, and he found the incredible intensity of unbroken eye contact addictive.
Grasping the waistband of Bo’s jeans, Sam worked the garment down over Bo’s hips. He scooted backward to pull the pants off Bo’s legs and toss them on the floor. With the jeans out of the way, Sam pushed Bo’s legs apart and bent to nuzzle his crotch through his underwear. The smell of cock, precome and unwashed man set Sam’s mind and body on fire. He mouthed Bo’s balls through the thin Jersey knit.
“Oh God,” Bo gasped, hips lifting and hands winding into Sam’s hair. “Sam.”
Humming, Sam pressed the flat of his tongue to the base of Bo’s shaft. The fabric of Bo’s underwear felt slightly rough on his tongue, and tasted of dried sweat. Sam licked and