26. Show Me What You Got, Garotão.
26
Show Me What You Got, Garot?o.
Clayton
O nce Rocky pulls up to our resort, located right on the coastal shoreline, the two of us jump out at lightning speed, grabbing our bags and letting the valet park the car.
Neither of us takes more than five seconds to take in our surroundings; we’re too worried about getting checked in and up to our suite. It looks like a beautiful hotel; from what I’ve seen in passing. The lights illuminate the evening sky, a plethora of tropical plants are scattered around the front of the building, and you can hear the Pacific crashing into the shoreline at the back of the hotel. But I couldn’t give two flying fucks about any of that right now. The only thing I’m focused on is the man in front of me as we power walk through the coastal-themed lobby, decorated in soft grays, blues, and yellows, toward the check-in counter.
Rocky gets to the counter before me, but I peek over his shoulder to speak to the small woman behind it, knowing the reservation is under my name. “Checking in for Clayton Aldrich.”
The woman tucks a strand of brown hair behind her ear and peers over her thick-framed glasses as she begins to type at her computer. A few moments later her eyes widen as she reads the notes attached to my reservation. I smile inwardly, knowing in reality that I checked in the day we got here not wanting to lose my reservation, just in case things went my way, and have paid for it every day since. I also had the front desk staff leave a note to pretend that I was checking in for the first time if and whenever Rocky and I showed up.
The last thing he needs is to feel guilty that I paid for a hotel we haven’t even been staying at.
“Here you are, Mr. Aldrich,” she says as she hands me a small envelope with two key cards. "Your suite is on the top floor. The snacks and mini-bar should be fully stocked and on the house.” No, they’re not. I had them say that, too. I paid for every single one of those items. “The number for room service is posted in your room. Is there anything else you will need?”
“No, thank you.”
She smiles softly before nodding at both of us. “Have a good night, gentlemen.”
The two of us climb into the elevator, and as the door closes, I can’t help but realize we have barely said a word to one another since we climbed into the car to drive over here. Me, because I’m so fucking excited. I know that if I so much as speak one word, I’m just going to word vomit all over the place like I did in the bathroom at his parent’s house. And Rocky, likely because he’s nervous… and excited… and overwhelmed. But as I peer over at him as he stands in the elevator, shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet, hand gripping the handle of his bag so tight his knuckles are white, I’m not entirely sure which emotion is winning out.
Fuck this. 1 ??
Dropping my bag to the floor, I shove him against the side of the elevator. Cupping his face, I kiss him fiercely. His bag falls from his hands, and he grips me at my waist, pulling me as close to him as possible. My teeth nip at his bottom lip, and he moans into my mouth. The sound shoots straight to my groin.
The two of us fight for dominance as we push our tongues in and out of each other’s mouths, the hairs of his mustache creating the most delicious burn of friction against my lips. There’s something to be said about feeling another man against you. Don’t get me wrong, women are beautiful and perfect in their own ways, but where their bodies are made of soft and smooth planes, men’s bodies are rough and rigid. It’s a deliciously stark contrast and one I can’t get enough of. Especially when it comes in the form of Rockwell Campos. But as my hips push him against the wall and with his face between my hands, I’m not letting him have the upper hand on this one.
Not tonight.
Tonight, I’m taking care of him. Tonight, I’m going to show him what it feels like to be so wrapped up in pleasure that you know nothing will compare ever again. Nothing will even come close.
And what’s more… he’s going to let me.
I hold one hand steady on the side of his face as the other one skates past his jaw and wraps around his neck. The second I squeeze, I feel his Adam’s apple move beneath my hand as he lets out a satisfied groan. One I swallow every second of .
Finally, he relents and lets me take control of his mouth, and I take full advantage of the opportunity. Tasting every inch of him.
His hands slide down past my hips and underneath the hem of my shirt. Rocky runs them along my lower back, and I can feel my entire body shiver.
“Clay.” My name sounds like a prayer on his lips as he gasps for air.
Using the hand cupping his face, I tilt his head upward, forcing him to look me in the eye. “Tell me to stop. Tell me to stop right now, and we won’t do this. Tell me to stop right now, or the moment this elevator opens, you’re mine.”
His green eyes dance between mine for a moment before he says two words that are about to change my life as I know it. “Don’t stop.”
There’s no going back after this. I’m a goner. Fucking done.
“Fuck, Baby.”
My mouth crashes into his again, and not more than ten seconds later, the elevator doors open on our floor. Pushing off the wall, Rocky guides me into the hallway, his mouth still fused to mine. I laugh against his lips. “Rocky. Baby, our bags.”
“Fuck our bags,” he mumbles against mine, still trying to push me down the hallway .
Regrettably, I tear my mouth from his. “As much as I appreciate the enthusiasm, if we lose our uniforms, Coach will literally murder us. Not even being over dramatic.”
Rolling his eyes, he agrees. “Shit. You’re probably right.”
The two of us separate and grab our bags off the elevator floor. When the goods are secured, I grab him by the hand and drag him down the hall until we find the door to our suite.
Swiping the keycard in front of the sensor, it unlocks the door, and I shove it open. As soon as Rocky’s body clears the door, I slam it closed and pin him against it. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
It isn’t lost on me how big of a deal this is. This will be Rocky’s first time having sex with a man, and regardless of what I said in the elevator, I want to give him one more chance. I would never push him into doing something he wasn’t ready for.
I brace myself for rejection, but instead, I’m pleasantly surprised when he runs his fingers through my brown curls. Smiling, he says, “Show me what you got, Garot?o.”
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