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first bite of a meal than take a first kiss, but he waited, hovering there, Porter’s full, tender bottom lip and his slightly rough chin grazing Xavier’s lips. Porter didn’t flinch away. He stayed still. Let him.
    Xavier descended into a kiss, that plump lip fleshy between his, sharpening his appetite, wet tongue sliding against the crease of his mouth, opening him, tasting his tongue, tequila seasoning Porter’s own distinctive flavor. He was still, passive, rigid through that first, wet parting and penetrating of his lips, still gripping Xavier’s wrists as if he might try to pry himself free. But now Porter was trembling, yielding, opening and rising to that kiss as if devouring a first meal after a long fast.
    Xavier abandoned his mouth, leaving him gasping like a fish stranded on sand. Taking one hand from Porter’s throat and sliding it over his groin, Xavier grinned and squeezed that thick length of hard dick.
    “Be still, now. I want to have a look at you.”
    Xavier let go of his throat, and Porter stayed still, that bright spot in his eyes flaring and shrinking, fluttering between anxiety and need. The best prey of all: the man used to taking control.
    When Xavier slid the windbreaker off Porter’s shoulders, Porter reached for the buckle on his holster.
    “ I told you to be still.”
    Porter laughed and started working the tongue through the buckle. “I don’t fuck around when it comes to my weapon.”
    “I said leave it. I want to know you trust me.”
    That light in Porter’s eyes shrank and darkened. Not fear. Cool, solid determination. “It’s not about trust. It’s about responsibility. Some rules, we follow to eliminate the need for judgment calls.”
    “But I want you to make this a judgment call, James.”
    “ You want me to break protocol, protocol to do with my weapon. To give you a thrill?”
    “ Yes.”
    Porter’s lips compressed.
    “And the harder it is for you,” Xavier said, “the more I want it.”
    Porter’s mouth was still set in a tight, angry line. But that warm light flared up in his dark eyes again. Xavier pushed Porter’s hand away from the holster and started unbuttoning his shirt. The fluttering flame in Porter’s eyes steadied and brightened.
    Fucking sexy as hell, his torso. Big, meaty pecs, broad chest. Thick and sturdy. Not cut, but not a trace of flab. Dark nipples like two chocolate drops against his caramel skin. Xavier teased them with feathering fingertips, then slid his palms over his silky smooth pecs, the lightly tufted center line running down his chest, over his abdomen. Back to those dark nipples, peaked and stiff now. Xavier caught them between the pads of his thumbs and the sides of his fingers. Gave them a gentle squeeze. Drank in the sound of Porter’s sigh like nectar. Tugged and drank the next groan along with a deep kiss, Porter’s warm wet mouth open and hungry now. No hint of resistance. He twisted his nipples until Porter grunted out loud into Xavier’s mouth. Sucking. Biting.
    Panting. Grinning. “Do you like kissing me?”
    A reluctant half smile of concession. Just one dimple. “Yes. I like kissing you.”
    “ Good. I’ve got something else for you to kiss.”
    He unzipped, reached in, and released his cock from the torturous restraint of his pants. He never tired of that look. Surprise mingled with want and apprehension.
    “Jesus Christ, man. I’m proud of my big black cock, but you are fucking up some stereotypes, here.”
    “ Sorry about that.” Xavier planted his hand on Porter’s shoulder. Pressed down. International sign language for, “get on your knees and suck me.”
    When Porter locked eyes with him, that flame fluttering again, Xavier waited for the inevitable protest. A man who doesn’t kiss surely doesn’t suck cock, either. But Porter sank to his knees, spread open Xavier’s fly, gazing at his cock, thrumming more insistently with every passing second as James caressed his waist, then slid his hands down,