Here's an excerpt:
Micah
sat on the bed. "What do you think?" He gestured expansively around
the small room.
"It's
n-n-nice." Jonas silently cursed his stammer. It always came out in stressful
situations, and while he'd sought this one out, that didn't make it any less
nerve-wracking. If his parents should find out… He forced away the unpleasant
notion. How would they ever know unless he told them? And there was no way that
would happen.
He
took a cleansing breath and let it out slowly. For the first time, he looked
directly into the eyes of the whore he'd just hired. They were moss green,
smiling, rimmed by thick lashes, with tiny smile lines at the corners. His hair is the color of beaten copper.
It was unlike anything he'd seen before, and it set off Micah's eyes so
perfectly that Jonas wondered if it was natural or contrived.
"So,
Jonas, how would you like to spend the time we have together?" Micah
smiled, and it was such a warm, giving expression that Jonas balked.
"I-I'm
s-sorry. I have to go." He took a step backward toward the door, only to
be stopped by Micah's gentle voice like a tug at his heart.
"Stay.
Please." Micah held out a hand.
Jonas
hesitated. He wanted to stay. Physically, he longed to stay and take advantage
of this professional's willingness to please him. Despite his emotional
diffidence, his body was eager. His cock was hard and had become so at his
first sight of Micah leaning against the brothel's bar. Jonas was glad for the
thigh-length coat he wore; it was far too heavy for the hot weather, but it
kept his aroused state hidden.
Unaware
of making the decision to do so, he sat on the foot of the bed at right angles
to Micah. His heart raced. He wondered if Micah could hear it, then chided
himself for such foolishness. I can do
this. Jonas shot a nervous glance at the other man, looked away swiftly. If I just don't have to make eye contact
again. It was absurd. What was he thinking?
"There's
no need to rush," Micah continued.
"B-but
there is," Jonas said quickly. "I-I'm expected… s-somewhere."
"That's
all right. I'm ready for whatever you'd like."
Micah
shifted on the bed and Jonas' gaze was drawn to him. The whore leaned back
against the pillows at the headboard, one long leg stretched out, and the other
bent at the knee. Jonas could see that he was erect, his cock tenting out the
loose fabric of his pants. His arms were folded behind his head as if he knew
he needed no help drawing attention to his engorged condition.
Jonas
stared openly at the protruding fabric, eager for what it hid and uncaring
whether his hunger was obvious on his face.
"I
take it you like what you see."
Jonas
could hear the smile in his voice, the teasing but tender tone. Jonas' gaze was
inexorably pulled upward, over Micah's flat and muscular belly, across his
smooth chest, up to his handsome face. Square, clean jaw; smiling lips; wide
cheekbones; and soft green eyes. Micah's expression was open and without
judgment. He was so beautiful that Jonas' breath caught.
"I--"
He inhaled, said in a rush, "I've been alone a long time. Years, and he
was… Anyway. I want to… take you. Fuck you. May I? Please?"