Page 63 of Sticks and Stones (FBI Romance/Thriller #65)

The Hotel

Saturday

Eleven P.M.

H oly shit, but the drugs were damn powerful. Luckily for Gene, he only got them on his skin, but he knew that by the time he got Ethan situated, he would be feeling it too. The clock was ticking, and he had a problem.

What exactly was his problem?

Ethan.

He was all over him.

Peeling him off of his body in the hotel parking lot had been rough. Someone had been hella handsy, and normally, Gene wouldn’t mind.

But now, with that clock running, he had to make sure he got them both into a locked room before the free-for-all continued.

Luckily, they could use the stairwell, and that allowed them to avoid contact with anyone inside the hotel. The reason being was Ethan had refused to set him free, so he was forced to carry him up to their room with his legs LOCKED around Gene’s hips.

Shit!

Gene’s partner was freaking strong.

His mouth was doing wicked things to his neck, his ear, and his man’s hands were all over the damn place.

Again, normally, Gene would be having a fucking party to have a horny Native boyfriend wanting him naked, but not in a hallway.

If he didn’t get him to the room before the drugs kicked in on him, they’d be fucking in a hallway.

And going to jail.

At the door, he got the key card into the slot, and shoved it open. Ethan found his mouth, and he’d locked himself to it.

The tangle of tongues was erotic, and it made his brain buzz with need.

Or that was the drugs kicking in.

Either way, they were screwed. One of them needed to make sure they were safe, and once he lost that ability, he had to hope and pray he didn’t hurt Ethan.

Because what he wanted was to bend him over, drive into him, and fuck him like a wild animal.

And that wasn’t the drugs talking.

That was his every day.

Add in Snow, and he was going to be out of control. The state of his hard-on told him that.

“EJ,” Gene whispered. “We have to get you into the shower,” he finally managed, as his lover smeared more of the drugs onto his flesh.

His neck.

His mouth.

His chin.

“You’re going to get worse,” Gene whispered, leaning against the wall as his partner drove him wild.

Jesus.

Christ.

He was so goddamn horny. His Kevlar was hanging off of him, and he wasn’t one hundred percent sure how Ethan pulled that off with his legs wrapped around his waist.

“I need you,” Blackhawk muttered. “Please,” he begged, his hands buried in his hair.

Sane Ethan was gone, and sexed up Ethan was showing up for the party.

“Take me! Hurry!” he added. “Fuck me so hard!”

Gene was fighting the battle of his life, and it wasn’t only to stay in control, but to get Ethan into the shower.

To save his life.

With each attempt, he was blocked. It was as if he was trying to take him on this drug trip.

Gene knew he had to use his brain.

“Let’s get naked in the shower, and have sex there,” he said, hoping to appeal to the man in his Snowed-up state. “Lubrication,” he muttered as his man ground against him as he clung to his body.

That seemed to work.

“Yesssssssss,” he hissed, relaxing his grip on Gene’s hips.

When he dropped down, it was a frenetic tearing at what was left of his clothing.

When Ethan was completely naked, he stared at Gene, and the man saw the difference the drugs had made, but he also saw Ethan fighting.

“I’ll be in with you,” he promised.

That seemed to work. High Ethan somehow managed to walk toward the bathroom, his hand on his dick.

Gene was struggling to think.

All he saw was delectable Native ass, and he knew what he craved.

His mate.

How he wished he had his phone to get backup, but for now, he was on his own.

As he walked into the bathroom, Ethan was in the shower, and he was standing under the water. It was ice cold, and Gene knew that was the part of Ethan struggling to protect him.

Well, the door was locked, and they were safely inside. Let the chaos begin.

Immediately, Gene washed his face and neck at the sink, watching his lover in the mirror.

Somehow, he’d lost his vest from the door to the bathroom, as if his brain was checking out at sporadic intervals.

“Come fuck me,” Ethan begged.

Oh, hell.

This was going to be brutal. Ethan was vocal during sex, but the drugs that Gene had gotten on him were turning up the heat.

What was normally hot, was irresistible to him. He wanted and craved what the man was offering.

So he fought.

He had to stay focused.

This was a battle of wills, and he knew it. Gene had to stay cognizant for as long as possible.

When he finished drying his face, he looked up in the mirror, and Ethan was right behind him. Before he could say anything, he was spun around, and his mate was on him.

Gene was betting that Elizabeth LaRue hadn’t been this difficult to manage. Ethan was fucking strong, and he didn’t hold back.

As his mate climbed up his body, he once more found his mouth.

He dove in.

His lover’s hands wandered, and Ethan tore at his shirt, desperate to get him naked.

The heat went up.

Gene pushed his face from his, struggling to assess the situation, but when he looked into his lover’s eyes, the lights were on, but NO ONE was home.

His pupils were huge.

Now, there was a problem. From that moment out, there would be no rationalizing with him.

“EJ,” he said, his own body feeling the effects of the drugs, albeit not as much as Ethan.

His dripping wet, horny partner was now stuck to the front of him and holding on with one hell of a grip.

“God! Fuck me so hard,” Ethan whispered, his hands going down Gene’s pants as he grabbed his dick and wouldn’t let go.

Gene moaned.

“Fuck,” he muttered, as he fought that haze and the man clinging to him.

Gene’s body was humming, alive, and feeling like a million fingers were all over him. They were caressing every nerve in his body.

There were little shocks of pleasure going off like fireworks. He’d never felt anything like it, and he now understood why the government wanted this shit shut down. His normally sane partner was amped up.

And had no limits.

As he tried to focus, the man he loved was tearing into his pants, desperately trying to get at his dick at all costs, and it was working.

Logical Gene said to restrain him and get himself into the shower too, but horny Gene said to skip it and fuck instead.

Once more, horny Gene won.

In his diminished capacity to think, he rationalized it as they were only climbing on each other, so how could it hurt?

It was an insane back and forth between rationalizing and worrying about Ethan’s ability to consent.

As he was trying to fight it, his partner found his dick, and he started blowing him, feverishly forcing his big dick down his throat until he choked on him.

He never even noticed him going to his knees. That’s how fast he was.

To hold on, Gene’s hands were in Ethan’s wet hair, and while he could see what was going on, he couldn’t stop it.

Not that he wanted to.

In fact, he needed more.

Leaning on the counter with his shirt already gone, and his pants and boxers at his ankles, he stared down at his partner.

And it happened.

Gene recognized the moment that his ability to be in control shut off.

He started roughly using Ethan’s face to drive him down and up his cock, choking him like he’d never choked him before.

And the man on his knees loved it.

He lived for it.

The need overwhelmed him, and his balls tucked into his body as he knew he was about to cum. Gene was cognizant, but unable to stop himself.

He was being rough, but he couldn’t change course. There was that flicker of sanity, but it was overwhelmed with lust.

So.

Much.

Lust.

Ethan and he were about to collide as they both battled to fulfill the need that had them by the balls.

Now, Gene had to hope and pray they survived this, and no one got hurt—mainly, Ethan. Honestly, Gene didn’t care about himself.

He could handle rough sex, since that was what he’d trolled for before Ethan.

His lover, on the other hand…

Gene knew what was at stake.

As the orgasm loomed, he warned him, or he thought he did.

Honestly, Gene couldn't tell.

His brain was off, and his body was in control, driving the pleasure train off the ledge. He watched his lover taking him down his throat, and gulping down copious amounts of cum as he erupted.

The orgasm was the most amazing feeling in the world. For Gene, it felt like it went on forever. He lost time because it felt so damn good.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Ethan hadn’t given up. Instead, he went right back to blowing him.

Fuck!

His erection was still rock hard, and needing more attention.

But he wanted more than head.

As if he was outside of his body, he watched himself pick Ethan up and as he carried the man toward the bed.

The trail of clothing from the bathroom to the entryway of the suite told the tale.

Fuckery was going down.

As for his man, Ethan was back to being locked to his body. He was getting rough, and that fed the demon riding him.

He was biting his neck, leaving hickies and marks all over Gene, and he wanted more.

No.

He wanted all.

With a growl, he grabbed his mate, and threw him on the bed.

His lover bounced, and then Ethan writhed in need, as he stroked his own dick.

Wildly.

“Fuck me so hard I scream,” he whispered. “I need you to fuck me until I cum.”

There was another growl from deep within his belly as that monster broke free. Gene had no control, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to protect Ethan. The drug had fully kicked in, and his ability to stop was over.

The true torture was he knew what he was doing to the man he loved, or what he would be doing as soon as he got his hands on his body.

He was screaming in his brain, even as his body was moving toward him. Gene begged himself to stop, but he simply couldn’t.

Reality flickered, and Gene lost time as the drugs overwhelmed his brain.

Before he knew what was happening, he was using the zip ties on Ethan.

Oh, thank God.

He was securing him.

Or so he thought.