Today's smutty excerpt is from Made to Order. It's a reprint that I've self-pubbed.
Sarge is a man of routine. That's what happens to longtime military men; they go to the same restaurants and eat the same meals every week. Of course, the draw of Sarge's favorite diner might just be the very handsome Jack.
When Jack finds out that Sarge is planning on spending Christmas alone, he decides to make his move on the man he's been admiring for a long while. Even if nothing happens, he wants to share his holiday with Sarge, who he's come to think of as a friend. Can these two lonely men find out that Christmas is better when they have someone to share it with?
He figured he was only going to have a problem if Sarge didn't kiss him at all.
Those gnarled hands were surprisingly hot as they tilted his face. There were flecks of pale, pale grey in those blue eyes and he could tell the man used to have hair dark as his own by the lashes that surrounded them. The first touch of their lips together was firm, sure, confident, very much like the man himself.
Oh, it felt good -- hot -- and it went straight to his cock.
Sarge made the softest sound, just sort of breathed it against his lips, but it was hot and rich and made him feel so good. His lips parted slightly, tongue coming out to taste Sarge's lips. The man tasted of cigars and dip and pure male.
There was nothing soft or tentative about the Sarge's response. His lips were opened, mouth explored with a determined hunger. A shudder of need went through him, and he opened his mouth wide, offering Sarge everything he would take. And damned if Sarge didn't take. The kiss stole his breath, his good sense, made him hard as a rock.
Jack moaned and shifted, hips pushing, searching the air for something to rub against. One of Sarge's hands, hot and sure and hard, cupped his cock, gave him that pressure, that friction he needed. Oh, that was nice. It was damned fine and he reached out, hand finding Sarge's thigh and sliding along it to the man's crotch, eager to give pleasure as well as take it.
Sarge must have thought so, too, given the way those muscled thighs parted and the kiss turned from hot to blazing in seconds.
It was awkward, the way they were sitting, but it felt too damned good to suggest moving, so he just went with it, tongue tangling with Sarge's, hand working the very thick, very hot, very hard bulge under his palm.
Sarge leaned back a little, panting. "I'm too old to be creaming my jeans, Jack. There a problem with unzipping, finding skin?"
He liked the way Sarge was upfront, no games, no coyness, just straight shooting. So to speak. It made him reciprocate with equal forthrightness. "You wanna get horizontal, too? My bedroom's not that far and the bed's big enough for two."
"Your turkey going to be able to wait a while?" Sarge's thumb stroked along his prick, firm, insistent.
He groaned, a shudder going through him at the touch. "I'll turn it down."
"Good." Sarge stood, held out one hand. "Show me your room."
He let Sarge help him out, holding the weathered hand as he made his way back to the kitchen to turn the turkey way down and then on to his bedroom. He'd built the house himself and his bedroom was a beauty -- floor to ceiling windows made up one wall, the other three made up of several woods patterned together. He was proud of this room, but right now, all he wanted was to get Sarge naked and show him the bed.
The thought made him chuckle. "I don't even know your real name, Sarge," he said when he went for Sarge's buttons.
"Bill. Name's Bill." Sarge's hands framed his face and he was given another long, hot kiss.
"Bill..." he murmured, capturing Bill's tongue and sucking on it as his hands pushed the shirt off Sarge's back. Bill was solid and broad, but wiry, skin smooth and hot under his hands. He explored the muscles with his fingers, learning them.
Oh, the man felt good. Really good.
His own shirt was opened and pushed off, Sarge tugging them tight together, groaning low as their skin met. Sliding his hands over Sarge's back, he opened his mouth wide beneath Bill's onslaught, cock still hard, pleasure giving him goose bumps.
Bill's thumbs hooked into his waistband, fingers framing his ass. The man was just hot and sexy, and Jack was damned glad they were doing this. He pushed back into Bill's hands, his own fingers searching for Sarge's nipples.
Tight and hard for him, Sarge's body rippled as he squeezed and he found himself hauled against that strong body, hips rubbing. "Lose the pants, Jack. I want to see."
He moaned, Bill's gruff order zinging straight to his cock. He followed the order, too, fingers fumbling before he got the belt, button and zipper out of the way, pushing the pants from his hips.
Sarge rumbled softly, stepping forward to take his cock in hand, balls cupped with the other. "Mmm. Looks good."
smut fixes everything