Excerpt from Lonely Hearts:
Jim picked up his black bag and unzipped it. He pulled out the oil. Then he released the damp towel from around his hips and let it drop to the floor before he walked over to the table. He should not be doing this.
He reached for the towel hooked around Caleb's waist, tugged it free, and tossed it to the other side of the room. He felt the man tense beneath his hands. He dug into the muscles of Caleb's back, feeling the tightness.
He reached for the bottle of oil and dribbled some of the oil over Caleb's shoulders. Visions of Rudolf rose up before his eyes, and he tried to shove them away. He forced himself to concentrate on the man on the table, forcing the dark, guilty images of his past out of sight into the deepest hidden corner of his mind, where they belonged. Moments like this were all that he allowed himself. He would not let Rudolf's memory, or duty to his father, spoil it. It's all that kept him sane.
In an hour, Caleb Wilson would walk out that door, and that would be the end of this sweet interlude. But for now, the poet had placed himself in Jim's hands, and he planned to make the most of it. Maybe then he would get this poet out of his system and be done with it.
"Mmmm, that feels great." Caleb groaned.
Jim kneaded the supple muscles, moving ever downward, along Caleb's spine, his fingers digging into the flesh at his hips, moving lower still to the delectable curve of Caleb's ass. He dribbled more oil. Separating Caleb's cheeks with his hand, James tipped the bottle and a thin line of oil spilled along Caleb's crack. He felt the stillness of the man on the table.
"Such a nice ass you have, Caleb." He sank an oiled finger into his anus. "And so damned tight." He wiggled his finger to deepen the penetration and passed the tight ring of muscle. "Is this good for you? Is it what you wanted?"
All he caught was a deep, guttural groan from Caleb. He leaned closer. "Do you want me to stop?"
"No," Caleb answered, his voice low and tight. "Don't stop."
Jim pressed in again and then pulled out. Did it again and again, until Caleb was humping against his hand, rising up off the table until the point where Jim had a good sense that he knew the man was close to coming. Then Jim withdrew his finger. One last enticing track with his finger between Caleb's cheeks and he started to knead his thighs, moving down his legs. Slowly, taking his time, knowing that Caleb was at the edge, needy for release, but Jim didn't want him to come yet.
He worked his way down Caleb's legs, traveling down to his feet, kneading the soles, and each toe. Moving to his other leg, he worked his way back up Caleb's body. Hands slick with fragrant oil, he dipped between Caleb's cheeks once again, enjoying the feel of his tight ass. This time, adding a second finger to the first. Oh, God, the man was delicious.
Almost immediately, Caleb began moving against his fingers, pressing back, trying to force Jim to go faster. Deeper. Jim removed his fingers and slapped Caleb on the ass.
"Slow down, poet. Don't rush it."
"I can't take much more of this."
"Oh, yes you can."
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