Read By CLARE LONDON for Free Online Page A

never even tried to tame the curls.
    “You got a name?” I struggled back up onto my knees. He’d turned around so his back was against the brick wall now. He was fumbling with the button of his jeans with one hand, his other grasping the back of my neck. And I was letting him. “Any name?”
    He glared at me like he might tell me to mind my own business, but something in my face must have caught his attention. He hesitated and then smiled. “Severino. Seve.” He pronounced it with a lilt on “Seve” that caught in his throat. A gentle accent, probably Spanish, only obvious on particular vowel sounds. Pretty damn sexy.
    “I’m Max,” I replied, but he didn’t look as if he was listening. He tightened his grip on me, and his eyes glinted in the dim light, his gaze fixed on my mouth. Night shadows skimmed across the left side of his body, but under the open collar of his shirt, I could clearly see the olive tint of his skin, the muscles tensing in his sinewy neck. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. I watched the throb in his throat as he swallowed.
    “This isn’t….”
    What? Was he having second thoughts? I wasn’t in the mood for indecision. Every animalistic feeling I’d bred over the years surged to the surface, and I knew this had to be. “You want this?” I said roughly.
    His eyes narrowed. “Of course.”
    We’d asked and accepted the terms. I grasped his thighs, leaned forward, and shamelessly mouthed the bulge in his jeans.

Chapter Five
    SEVE groaned aloud and his hand slid up the back of my head, pushing me against his groin. I could feel the heat on my cheeks even before I reached my hand up and tugged down the zip. He hissed and his hips jerked. My nose rubbed against warm cotton briefs, the smell of skin and arousal like nectar.
    No hesitation: the need in both of us was implicit. No “please.” No “thank you.” I grasped the thick cock as if it were the Holy Grail, peeled it out of its swaddling fabric, and took it fully into my mouth.
    “Fuck.” His whisper was so soft, I wasn’t even sure I’d heard a coherent word. He pressed himself back hard against the wall. I leaned my weight against his legs, grasping the creased denim of his jeans, and began to move my mouth up and down, dragging my tongue along with it. The smell of his balls was musky and erotic, the dark, rougher pubic hairs tickling at my nose. His cock was thick and hot in my mouth and tasted like nothing on Earth. I couldn’t possibly have forgotten how good a cock could taste—the sharp tang of living flesh on my tongue; the wrinkles of skin smoothing under my lips, stretching over a swelling shaft. I could feel the pulse of the vein along the side of it, could taste the droplets of precome as they oozed out of the slit for me to suck up. His hips strained against my hands as he thrust into my mouth in a parody of fucking, and his fingers gripped my hair close to the scalp. But he had no need to force me up and down. I was sucking for my own delight as well.
    I hadn’t done this for so long! I reckon I’d always been pretty good at it. The pleasure returned in a rush of sensation, and I tried very hard to pace myself, to control the excitement that was racing around me, making my hands clutch too tightly at his muscular thighs, my mouth suck too greedily at his dick. But he didn’t complain. Maybe he liked it that way. Our combined breath was short and rasping, and when I glanced up, I could see a mist from his mouth as he panted his body heat into the rapidly cooling night air. My head bobbed back and forth, my mouth making soft suckling noises, and his grunts accompanied me. I wished to God I could get a hand down into my own briefs and relieve the ache I was suffering there.
    I don’t know how long it took. I was lost in the rhythm of sucking, and it seemed like I’d been pressed close to his groin forever. My mouth had always been filled with this flesh; my lips had always been bruised against his