After Midnight

Adam: "Perhaps you should get a real job and become a useful member of society." Gordon: "Perhaps you should shove a pipe up your ass and die of lead poisoning.

Why do I let you do this to me?" Adam panted against his face, damp and warm, and heartbeat racing in his chest. "How do you ruin me like this?

What freaking year were you born in? You can’t be much younger than me. They had all of those shows about Amazon chicks and Greek gods, gladiators. . .” “You watched shows about Amazons and Greek gods.” It was more of a flat statement than a question. “Screw you. Them bitches were fierce.” “You’re a bizarre person.” “Says the guy in the bodysuit.” Mr. Greek’s mouth sunk at the sides. “It’s protective armor.” “Like I fucking said.

Considering some of the things I’ve done, touching another man’s dick is not exactly going to send me into a moral meltdown.

Adam: "I guess I struck a nerve." Gordon: "Suck my cock and choke on it.

He was making it obvious that something was wrong—that Adam's presence was throwing him off. "Uh, Marquis. We were going to food." Because that was a verb. "I mean, get food." "He's gone." "Yes." Monosyllables. Monosyllables were good.

I'm just doing what I have to do. I don't have a choice." "Yeah, good luck going to bed with a guilt-free conscience with that sorry-ass excuse." The sour expression evaporated from Mr. Greek's face. His gaze switched back to the computer. "Keep talking and I'll gag you." "Blow me.

Okay, dumbass. Perspective time," Gordon muttered as he ripped the greasy bag open. He would force himself to eat. He was not going to become an obsessed basketcase. He wasn't. "First of all," he said, yanking the utensil drawer open." He is capable of murdering a huge juicer in the middle of the street and then disappearing with the body within seconds." He removed one of the cartons and shoved his fork into the mound of noodles. "Two, he is probably a sociopath. Three, he thinks I'm a complete ballsack of a moron.

He'd never been a kidnapping or hostage victim before, so he was a little fuzzy on the etiquette.

Why couldn't anyone ever take him at face value? He'd come up with a perfectly believable lie and she was still questioning him.

Gordon didn't respond, not wanting to make promises, not wanting to open himself so entirely when there were still so many things that could be unsaid and hidden. But even as he decided to stay noncommittal, he found himself listing forward. Listing forward and kissing Adam again, because who the fuck was Gordon kidding? He needed more, too.

Blahblah new porn series, blahblah hot men, blahblah new hot boytoy from France, blahblah hair products imported from France with the boytoy, blahblah super gay lifestyle.

What's the haps, Alli? Writing your memoirs?" "People who write memoirs should die.