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“The smart guy”—Sebastian Keller’s lived with that label most of his life. Though he hasn’t always appreciated it, and it hasn’t exactly made him a man magnet, he’s put his intelligence to work building his store, Great Escapes Travel Book Shop, to the point it’s now the favorite recommendation of travel agents in the St. Louis area. His customers—especially the jet-setting senior citizens—love him for his amiable personality.
He doesn’t feel very amiable, however, when Rad Tattoos moves in next door to Great Escapes. Its owner, Dylan Radamacher, rubs Sebastian the wrong way from the get-go. The man’s insufferable, stubborn, and, worse, a bad boy. Everything Sebastian loathes. To add insult to injury, Sebastian’s certain the loud music, the congested parking lot, and the constant colorful parade of the counterculture in and out of the tattoo studio are scaring away his loyal, conservative customers.
And yet, much to his annoyance, the teasing sparkle in Dylan’s eyes, his hot, inked body, and come-hither voice set Sebastian’s libido on fire. Sebastian’s “been there, done that” with the bad-boy type before, though, and almost lost everything because of it. There’s no way he’s going down that road again.
But when Dylan sets his sights on Sebastian and is determined to take him for a walk on the wild side, Sebastian knows he’s in big trouble. It’s going to take all his smarts and a whole lot of willpower to resist the sexy tattoo artist before the man finds a way to burrow deeper under his skin...
Excerpt:
...They sat for a moment in the dim light from the garage door opener, not moving, the sexual tension so thick Sebastian almost couldn’t breathe. He pulled off his helmet.
Dylan did the same, then wrenched his body around partway and dragged Sebastian into a kiss that conveyed every bit of the hunger and built-up need that surged in Sebastian.
“I didn’t think we were ever going to get here,” Dylan rasped against his lips.
“Me either.” Sebastian stood, swung his leg off the bike, and set his helmet on the worktable behind him. When Dylan dismounted, Sebastian grabbed him by a belt loop and pulled him close, then planted another kiss on him. As the heat and seductive taste of Dylan’s tongue curled with his, Sebastian worked open Dylan’s belt buckle, popped open the button of his jeans, and slid down the zipper.
In a smooth motion, he pushed Dylan’s jeans and briefs down to his thighs. His erection sprang free, hot and stiff and eager. Without pause, Sebastian dropped to his knees, wrapped his hand around the base of the thick shaft, and licked across the damp head of it, savoring Dylan’s essence, the way the skin stretched over the spongy, turgid crown, his warm aroused scent. Then not willing to wait a second longer, he guided that beautiful cock into the depths of his mouth.
“Shit,” Dylan gasped. “Oh, shit!” His fingers dug into Sebastian’s hair. His eyes closed. His breathing came out in stuttered huffs.
Sebastian loved to give head. Always had. There was something about a cock in his mouth, the taste, the smell, the sensation of sleek, wet skin as he worked it over that did it for him. But as he listened to Dylan’s heavy breathing, felt the vibration of Dylan’s need and the way his fingers flexed against his scalp, he realized he’d never wanted to give anyone pleasure more than he did this man. He wasn’t sure why. Probably the same reason he’d gotten on the motorcycle with Dylan tonight—a need to show him he was more than what he seemed.
All his life he’d suffered over the stereotype of being the “smart guy.” In high school, college, even now it continued, as evidenced by Babs today. He’d tried to fight it, tried to hide it. He’d shed glasses for contacts in high school, and after he’d opened Great Escapes and pulled a decent profit that first year, he’d taken some of the money and gotten LASIK done. He’d banished geeky clothes from his wardrobe as soon as he’d been out on his own, and made a point of shopping at nicer men’s stores. And yet, despite the improved external appearance, the smart guy moniker continued to stick. He didn’t know what it was about him that broadcasted it, but he couldn’t seem to escape it. “Pressed and scholarly,” Babs had called him. Certainly there were far worse things in life than being smart.
But here, tonight, with Dylan, he felt compelled to prove to the man—and maybe to himself as well—that smart guys could be just as good in bed, maybe better, than anyone else. The next time he went into Dylan’s tattoo shop, instead of laughing because Sebastian blushed over some horny woman’s come-on, he wanted Dylan to remember this moment, when he’d dropped to his knees in Dylan’s garage and boldly sucked his cock until Dylan’s eyes rolled back in his head...
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