Beneath the Shield
Release Date February 2011
Cover Artist Deana C. Jamroz
Jack Torres has been harboring, zealously nurturing a hidden guilt for three
years. This mire of emotions has hardened his heart and his want to reconnect to
the living world, keeping him isolated and unapproachable.
Brant Teller is a chance encounter Jack keeps from growing physically violent
in a crowded nightclub. Parting ways, Brant doesn’t expect to see the brooding,
silent officer again. Yet when a domestic violence call brings the surly officer
right to his ER, Brant takes a chance. What begins as a Sunday of football has
the possibility to become so much more. If Jack will open himself up enough to
release the agony of his own personal nightmare.
…Will capture your heart
~Sensual Reads; Elise
Jack was trying to think. Brant was making even the simplest thought exceptionally difficult. Then Brant turned his head to flick his tongue out to get another playful taste and he immediately remembered at least one reason why they shouldn’t.“Your head.” Jack tightened his grip on Brant’s hips, urging him to listen. The bruise looked awful, the impact to his temple obvious as darkened skin seemed on the verge of turning purple.
“Not feeling a thing,” Brant murmured. “Well, no pain, anyway. I’m feeling plenty at the moment.” Brant chuckled as he glided down Jack’s chest, his lips, tongue and teeth paving the way. Jack hardly noticed when Brant eased the button of his jeans free.
“Brant,” Jack breathed. Brant’s motions slowed, and he shimmied up Jack’s frame until he was looking down at him.
“Shh. I’m seducing you. Take it like a man and shut up.” He brushed tender lips to Jack’s.
Jack blinked. Seducing? Wicked and heated green eyes stared into his. He gulped. Faster than a lightning strike, Brant reversed direction down Jack’s torso and was even then sipping kisses to his stomach. Warm breath bathed his skin. He felt as much as heard the grating sound of his zipper being lowered, then the unmistakable release of pressure on his engorged shaft as the material was spread.
An appreciative purr was his only warning before the heated slick of Brant’s tongue shook hands with Jack’s cock.
Jack groaned. His brain ceased to function. Brant hooked the waist of Jack’s jeans and tugged, yanking them and his briefs over his legs. “God, you’re gorgeous. I can’t say it enough,” Brant murmured with deep admiration. Jeans vanished over Jack’s feet, his socks following as if by magic. Jack clutched at sheets, the blanket since vanished to somewhere unknown.
His body was on overload. He’d fought the attraction. Now, apparently starved, all he could do was lie there and take what Brant dished out. Because even he couldn’t lie effectively enough to say he didn’t want it. He’d known in some part of his head that being in this bed would have one of two outcomes. Jack had prayed he’d be strong enough to fight this choice. Knew as soon as he felt either of them stir, he should have left the bed.
For some reason, he really couldn’t find the anger at himself to know he’d failed to avoid it.
Not when Brant’s tongue was… Oh shit. He moaned, gasping as Brant licked and lapped at heated skin, his nuts being suckled like sweet plums between Brant’s lips. The firm up and down stroke of his hand on Jack’s cock was heaven.
Jack couldn’t fight this, couldn’t push Brant away. He couldn’t inflict physical pain a second time to convince himself he didn’t want it, because he did want it. God, he wanted this, wanted Brant badly. Brant was touching him everywhere. Fingers, lips, tongue, even little bites on the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. Jack shook with the force of his burgeoning need. It was surging, threatening to crash over him like a tsunami wave and sweep him under by the sheer force of Brant’s oral attack.
Pressure encouraged him to broaden the V of his pose and he did, without qualm, without hesitation. He could hate himself after for caving, for wanting, for needing. The extent of his mobility was to grip the sheets anyway. Escaping wasn’t an option any longer.
Brant held his thick dick firm as he inched upward again. “Well, look what I found in my bed,” he said. Jack slit his eyes, focusing on a bewitching smile and a gaze that spoke of pleasures to come. Sidling beside the bed to stand next to a prone Jack, Brant opened the drawer of his nightstand.
“Brant.” He swallowed and tried again when even he heard the adamant growl of desire in the single syllable. Though he wasn’t sure if he was truly asking him to stop, or something else, something that he craved but couldn’t ask for.
Brant’s eyes drifted shut, his shoulders rolling. “God, just you saying my name makes me want to come.” He tossed a tube and a couple condom packets to the other end of the bed. Freeing his control of Jack’s cock, he swept his sweatshirt over his head. Jack sucked in a breath at his first real view of Brant. “I hope you’re not disappointed. I can’t get the physique you have. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“Are you serious?” Jack gave in, rolling to a hip to sit in front of Brant. Tentatively, relearning the motions of touching for pleasure, he formed his hands to Brant’s body, sculpting the slopes and valleys with unsteady fingers. His mouth watered, wanting to taste him as much as Brant had feasted on Jack. Firm pecs with taut nipples, a light fuzz of hair that would be arousing as hell against his own skin. There wasn’t any fat on the man. Smooth hips and an even better ass now that it was about to be naked. He wanted that. Now.
Brant threaded a steady hand into Jack’s hair, halting his forward foray. “Not this time. You touch me and I’ll go off where I stand. I’ve wanted you for weeks.” Softening the block, Brant bent and kissed Jack, dancing his tongue over Jack’s lips, gliding his loosened shirt completely off his shoulders in the process. “Undo my jeans,” he whispered, then slipped his tongue between Jack’s teeth to tantalize him again.
Jack did, quickly releasing the button and zipper then rocking them over Brant’s hips until they puddled at his bare feet. Brant stepped out of them, punting them out of the way.
Jack was lost with his heart racing in an erratic tempo. Thick and red, Brant’s cock tempted him, the large head pointing at him like a spear, a spear he wanted to get his lips around. Hunger burned through him. Need possessed him. A low growl bubbled through his chest. His facade of humanity was quickly being shredded by a hunger so intense, he quivered.
Jack cupped a hand to his hip and tugged before Brant realized he was bringing Brant to Jack, not leaning toward his prize.
Brant’s body bowed in surprise, driving his hard shaft deep into Jack’s mouth. Jack moaned the instant thick flesh filled his mouth. So good.
“Jack!” Fingers furrowed into his hair, clutching as Brant stiffened. Blood thickened the cock between Jack’s lips as he sucked. Sighs and whimpers fell from the doctor’s lips, falling on Jack’s ears and turning him on more.
Riding the heavy length to the end, he gripped it at the base, then as an added shot, he stroked his cheek with the tip, running over the abrasion of his beard growth.
Brant’s shout was music, deep, lusting, hungry. Nails dug into Jack’s naked shoulders. “Fuck! Jack…need…now.” The man was trembling, leaning more on Jack than standing.
Reaching up, Jack palmed the back of his head and tugged him to his lips, claiming that hot temptation for himself. “Then fuck me, baby.”
Brant moaned, harsh breaths and flushed skin signs of his need. Jack went willingly when Brant shoved him to the bed.
“Over. Want that ass,” Brant said, climbing once more on the bed behind Jack. A single, stinging slap on his ass pulled his body as tight as a corkscrew. He tossed his head, then pushed backward. The repeated sting of a flat palm had him fisting the blankets, a groan echoing in the room followed by a needy backward arched plea. “Shit, Jack. Your ass was made for fucking. Perfect.” The hot swipe of a tongue down the crack sent him spinning.
The pop of the lube was heard bear seconds before Brant slid a slicked finger over his pucker.
Jack couldn’t do more than moan incoherently. Heat and pressure built side by side.
Whispers filled the air, punctuated by needy growls from Jack and words of encouragement from Brant. “Christ, you’re tight. Easy, sexy.”
Jack let out a breath, relishing the stretch, craving the touch. Controlling but tender strength on his hip rocked him, eased the strain as Brant readied him.
More lube, cool to rapidly warm as Brant scissored his fingers. Jack arched when he stroked over his prostate. “Shit!” The single word was a bark that faded to a growled hiss.
Shivers crammed themselves over his spine when Jack felt the sharp bite of teeth on his ass. Then Brant slid down and played with Jack’s balls. “Brant!” He was coming apart. He heard the telltale signs of a condom being opened, and waited, clawing at the bed for more.
The smooth head of Brant’s cock rested against pulsing flesh. And for just an instant, a memory of Leo flashed before his eyes. Jack stiffened and shifted, denying Brant. Emotions swirled and boxed him in.
“Hey, Jack. It’s okay.” Brant’s whispered voice purred against his ear. Warm breath and understanding dragged him back from the edge. Jack buried his face in the bed, mortified and appalled. The tender stroke of a flat palm petted his spine.
Brant. This wasn’t Leo. Jack let out a harsh exhale. “I’m okay.” Brant’s fingers soothed and caressed more than enflamed.
“Come back to me, baby,” Brant entreated. Warm lips ghosted kisses to Jack’s hip. “Turn over, Jack.” Brant inched out of the way to give Jack space.
He did as Brant asked, flipping to lay on his back. When Leo had made love to him, he rarely took him face to face. Leo had been energetic, roughly enthusiastic and Jack had been bigger than him. Jack hadn’t minded.
Brant leaned forward, his slick, covered cock rubbing against Jack’s as he held himself over Jack’s body on his palms. “Look at me, Jack.” Compelled by the understanding in his voice, Jack did, meeting his open gaze. “It’s okay. Whatever happened. Do you want to stop?”
Did he? Brant wasn’t pushing, was giving him the out. Jack firmed his jaw. Leo was gone. Jack was still a man with desires, and Brant had coaxed them back to life. Jack knew he didn’t deserve Brant’s attention, but Brant didn’t deserve to be iced out because of Jack’s failings either.
He shook his head. Understanding coupled with tender relief shone from Brant’s eyes.
“Kiss me, Jack. Show me you’re still with me.”
Jack cupped his palms to Brant’s face, searching. Not sure what he was looking for, yet feeling he’d found exactly what he needed, he brought Brant’s lips to his. A moaned sigh rocked the quiet of the room. Laying over his length, Brant shifted to the side, cupping Jack’s groin. He moaned into Jack’s mouth as he teased the length, blood pulsing against nerves again. “You feel incredible.”
Soon slow kisses turned into tongue duels of domination. Brant fisted Jack’s cock, pumping him in steady, aching pulls that shot heat and need up from his balls and down his spine.
With the pleasure of Brant sliding two fingers deep into Jack’s ass, Jack didn’t miss a beat; he sucked on Brant’s tongue as pleasure coiled tighter. Proving he was ready, Jack hooked a thigh with his hand, then gasped as the pressure intensified into a tornado of feeling, tossing him into the very center of sensation.
Kneeling between his thighs, Brant braced himself, Jack’s feet flat to the bed. Jack couldn’t look away from the intensity of those green eyes, shot through with lightning strikes of blue. Then Brant was pushing forward and all thought ceased as though he’d run full speed into a brick wall. All there was, was feeling. The sweet heat of the burn, the stretch, then the slick fullness as Brant filled him.
“Sweet hell, you’re hot,” Brant groaned, his shoulders shaking. Jack’s eyes slammed shut.
Brant wasn’t new to the rodeo, widening Jack’s straddle and slamming in. The slap of his body against Jack’s drove him insane.
“Okay?” he gasped.
“Fuck, yes!” Jack fisted his dick, fire boiling in his veins as his orgasm grew. His cock bulged in his hand, sweat coating his skin. Harsh, rapid pants burned his throat. Reaching, he covered Brant’s fingers where he held onto Jack’s leg. Almost as though it was as natural as the sun rising, Brant threaded their fingers together, locking their hands into one. Jack’s heart raced, colliding against his ribcage. Each thrust shook them both.
“Jack,” Brant moaned, his frame quivering as release bore down on them both. His face grew taut under the blissful strain. “Gonna… Oh, God.”
Jack stroked harder, whipping his hand over his rigid dick keeping pace with Brant. Then he shouted, white light eclipsing all thought, narrowing his world to the man inside of him, and the feeling of his orgasm bursting free.
Brant grunted, his hips tightening as he ground down, gasping as each spurt filled the condom, thickening him against Jack’s walls.
Jack knew he was going to have a bruise on his thigh. The imprint of their clasped fingers. He honestly didn’t care. He swallowed, sucking deep breaths. Brant released him. Jack moaned as his body relaxed, stretching out with the man over him doing the same.
Then Brant took him by surprise, bending over him to lick with kitten flicks at the end of his dick, cleaning the stripes of white off his body. The gentle friction and his attention to the job was quickly revitalizing Jack.
Touching his head, he played with Brant’s hair, damp and not quite behaving now. Brant raised his hips, reaching to grab the condom. “Don’t move.” Jack wasn’t too sure he could.
Jack trailed him with unblinking eyes in the dim light as he aimed for the bathroom, the light coming on briefly followed by the sound of running water. He turned the light out again, pitching the room into shadows. Jack couldn’t take his eyes off the other man regardless. Strong legs, a flat stomach, well muscled arms and shoulders and eyes that seemed to see too deeply into Jack.
Brant sat on the bed stealing a kiss before he took on the task of cleaning up Jack’s pleasure.
“Fast recovery, huh?” Brant slid him a daring grin.
Looking in the direction that Brant meant, he gaped at his dick, still hard, standing, begging for attention.
“It’s been a while,” he admitted.
Brant tossed the washcloth on the floor near a pile of someone’s clothes, then settled a palm over Jack’s jaw. Adoring fingers stroked his face, teasing his bottom lip with feathery touches. Jack couldn’t look away.
“Then let’s make up for wasted days.” Brant’s gaze flashed with pure sexy challenge. “I have a few myself.”
Jack splayed a trembling hand over Brant’s bare chest. Jack knew he didn’t deserve any part of Brant. As the doctor stretched out on the bed again, side by side, angling Jack to hover over him with a quiet sigh of yearning, he knew he couldn’t go back to what he had been either.
He prayed that when Brant learned the truth, he could forgive Jack. He knew his chances were slim. Jack hadn’t forgiven himself yet.