Play Dirty (Wages of Sin #2) - Neve Wilder Page 0,1
pinky, enjoying the brief flash of surprise crossing the stranger’s expression. He flashed one of his own keycards without offering it to the man, instead saying, “I’m leaving right now.”
In the elevator, they leaned against opposing walls examining each other. Where the man had been subtle in the bar, his gaze now roamed freely over Madigan, lingering near his crotch where Madigan’s cock was already thickening, enjoying this new twist on an old game.
Never one for shyness, Madigan tilted his hips to let the man see what he was getting. In turn, the man slid a hand over his belt loop and made a minor adjustment that showcased his own stiffening cock. A smile quirked Madigan’s lips. This would be a fun way to pass the rest of the evening.
He was the first out of the elevator on the eighth floor, though the man was swift behind him, and Madigan wasn’t surprised to find himself up against a wall the second they were out of view of the elevator’s cameras. The man’s hips ground against his, his cock pressing hard and insistently against Madigan’s thigh.
His mouth was hot and seductively smothering, his kiss as arrogant as the rest of him. Madigan yielded to the press of his tongue, sucked on his generous lower lip, then slid a hand around to his ass and grabbed a fistful of the firm skin through the fabric, already envisioning prying those tight cheeks apart, seeing if the man’s moans were as rich and sonorous when Madigan was fucking him into the mattress.
They needed to get to the hotel room first, but Madigan couldn’t bring himself to break the kiss. He groaned an encouragement as the man’s lips moved over his neck and his fingers found Madigan’s nipple, pinching it roughly. Madigan fucking loved that, and it was clear to him that the man was no stranger to another man’s body.
His eyes flew open when a hand closed around his throat, threatening his next breath. Madigan reacted instinctively, his own hand flying up to grip the man low at the base of his neck while his other shot to the stranger’s elbow, found leverage, and whirled him around, pulling him back to Madigan’s chest, forearm locked tight across the stranger’s neck.
The man put his hands up immediately, exhaling a low chuckle. “My apologies. I got carried away.”
Willing his heart to stop pounding, Madigan drew in a steadying breath as he forced his grip to relax and reminded himself of where he was. “My fault. It’s a reflex.” One he evidently still struggled to control.
“Army?” The man turned around and straightened his lapels casually once Madigan released him.
Madigan nodded curtly. His wallet would attest to that, too. It was about the only thing in there that was actually true. Madigan was proud of his bland Midwestern accent. He’d worked long and hard perfecting it.
“I’ll watch myself from here on out. You’ve got a sexy throat, what can I say?” The stranger inclined his chin down the hallway. “Lead the way?”
Once they reached his door, Madigan unlocked it and gestured into the room. “Sit at the end of the bed.”
The man’s brow flickered up, but he did as Madigan asked, eyes fixed to his face as he removed his suit coat and laid it over the back of the room’s desk chair. He then unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled the sleeves up, and Madigan had no doubt this was a show for his benefit. He could appreciate that, too.
“What’s your name?”
“John.” The stranger’s eyes twinkled with humor as he sat on the end of the bed.
“That’s a funny coincidence,” Madigan mused with an equally wry smile. He imagined the man had a much more beautiful name. Something rich in tone that rolled off the tongue. In another time and place, he’d have pressed harder for it, just to know. But, in this instance, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t supposed to, so he didn’t let it.
“You’re John, too?”
Madigan leaned against the dresser, working open the buttons on his shirt. “How about we split the difference and you can call me Smith?”
“John and Smith,” the man echoed as Madigan slid the shirt from his shoulders and tossed it aside. “That sounds very boring. I’m reconsidering now. How about you call me Akil instead? I think I’ll like the sound of you screaming that more.”
Briefly, Madigan wondered if he’d given his real name, but that didn’t strike him as something the man would do. He’d been just as cautious as