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    Give Me One Night
    Give Me One Night
    Give Me One Night
    Ebook153 pages2 hours

    Give Me One Night

    By KC Kendricks

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    About this ebook

    Brody O'Connor joins the revelry of the yearly St. Patrick's Day pub crawl, hunting a like-minded man for a night of fun and frolic with no strings attached. When a mystery man in an emerald green shirt engages Brody's interest, it doesn't take long for the hunter to become the prey.

    Well-matched with his mystery man, Brody regrets his "no strings" approach to a night of shared passion that leaves him hungry for more. The morning after, Evan is gone, as agreed. Brody knows it was a mistake to let him go, and vows to find him.

    Evan also never expected to meet someone like Brody. Now Brody wants to change the rules, and Evan decides he'll give Brody one more night to convince him to stay.

    *_*_*

    By nine o'clock, I wasn't sure if I was worried or angry, but I was jittery. Caught up in that first flush of a new relationship, I missed him on a visceral level. I longed for his presence, for his smell, his heat. His laughter.

    I resisted the urge to call his cell phone, mainly because I didn't want him to think I was checking up on him. A family visit could last a lot longer than anticipated. A lot.

    What had begun between Evan and me was not imaginary. It was remarkable and real, powerful and potent. Yes, we had a lot to learn about each other still, but I wanted to take my time, peel back the layers of him slowly, savoring each new revelation.

    I'd reached my mid-thirties and had learned a few things. I could read people pretty well. Evan was as serious about me as I was about him. The only games he would play were those like the night of the pub crawl, open and for all to see. If he planned to see someone else on his way back to me, he would have said so.

    Midnight came, draping a heavy cloak of worry over my shoulders. I knew, beyond any doubt, he'd not purposefully stood me up. I paced the floor, trapped by the four walls and a sense of impending disaster. 

    When the doorbell rang, I was unprepared for the adrenaline rush of fear that paralyzed me. I shook it off, bolted to the door, and flung it open. Darren and Cole stood there, grim-faced. A cold finger of unease traced the length of my spine.

    "Do you two know what time it is?"

    Cole, another of the Rumours partners, and an old friend, grasped my elbow. "Brody, we need to sit down."

    I pulled away from him. "Why? What's wrong?"

    "Brody, just how is it between you and Evan Delapontes?"

    My stomach roiled, churning up acid. "Serious. What's wrong?"

    Darren moved to my side, close. "Listen, Brody. We don't know much. Cole was on call this afternoon."

    My knees threatened to give out. Cole was a paramedic.

    "What call?" I grabbed him by the front of his jacket. He didn't try to shake me off, just covered my hands with his.

    "About five o'clock, someone ran a red light and broad-sided Evan Delapontes' Jaguar. I recognized him 'cause he works in the same building with Nate. When I got to the club just a bit ago, Darren said you and he had a thing going…"

    Seven hours ago. I should not have worried about pissing him off and gone looking for him.

    The world took on an unreal, distant quality. The air in my lungs felt heavy, liquid. Surely I hadn't heard Cole correctly. Darren's voice came to me through a tunnel.

    Cold fear, so icy it burned in my chest, kept me from asking the question, the answer to which could end all the hopes I'd built during the day.

    Darren saw and spared me. "He's in intensive care at County General."

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWhite Deer Enterprises/White Deer Books
    Release dateJul 24, 2016
    ISBN9781536551570
    Give Me One Night
    Author

    KC Kendricks

    KC Kendricks calls herself an accidental writer. After completing her first novel writing as Rayne Forrest, she was urged to submit it to a publisher, and everything snowballed from there. Today, the author has had over seventy books published. In July of 2021, she tried to retire but her employer offered her a deal to work at home. She accepted. Now she balances work, writing, and hearth and home in a controlled chaos. A native of scenic western Maryland, the author enjoys most activities that don’t include snow. In warm weather she might be found walking the dog, biking on the C&O Canal towpath, planting delicacies in her garden for the deer to munch on at night, playing in the creek, or lazing on the patio with her Kindle reader or laptop. She recently began to research her family history and can't drive past a cemetery without stopping to search for family sites. Her mission is to photograph old tombstones before the elements erode the stones and the names are lost to time. For more about KC Kendricks and Rayne Forrest’s writing life, please visit the Between the Keys blog at http:kckendricks.blogspot.com . If you’d like to know more about the author’s country lifestyle and her daily activities full of simple country pleasures (and a lot of work), please visit the Holly Tree Manor blog at http://hollytreemanor.blogspot.com . KC can be reached through her blog, Between the Keys. All comments are strictly moderated by the author and personal messages are treated as such. Follow the author on Twitter for up-to-date announcements at Twitter.com/KCKendricks.

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      Book preview

      Give Me One Night - KC Kendricks

      CHAPTER 1

      Pub crawl. Yes, I knew about the pub crawl and how it got its very appropriate name. One ended up crawling from pub to pub when one could no longer walk. What I didn’t know was why in the world my buddy Sandy thought I’d like to accompany him on the annual citywide drunken festival tomorrow night. He planted his fists on his hips and glared at me.

      I knew him too well to be even the least bit intimidated. Safely ensconced behind my desk, I simply stared back at him.

      I’ll think about it. That was the most I’d commit to, although I’d probably thought about it all I would.

      You’re Irish, for God’s sake, Brody O’Connor. You’ve got to feel something, some cultural pull to celebrate. He leaned over, stared me in the eye, and did his best imitation of an Irish brogue. What would yer dear old da say if he knew ye didna want to celebrate St. Paddy’s Day?

      I sighed and pushed back from the desk. Sandy watched me with those big brown eyes of his that had melted many a man’s heart while turning his dick to iron. Tall, slender, graceful, and dressed appropriately for every occasion, my friend knew the ins and outs of queendom and plumbed them to new depths. I knew he hoped that someday I’d fall for him, but I valued his friendship too much to tarnish it with sex. Lovers came and went, but friends stood by you, to the best of their abilities, forever.

      Screw what dear old Dennis O’Connor would say. He’d curse me for my foolish behavior. I puffed out my chest and lowered my voice to an Irish growl. ‘Make money, boyo. Don’t spend it unless you’re growing it.’

      Sandy perched on the corner of my desk, legs crossed, his back ramrod straight. The determined glint in his eyes drew my suspicions. I held up my hand before he could send another volley.

      Let’s cut to the chase here because I don’t have all day. Just tell me who it is you think I’ve got to meet.

      Why, Brody, I’m hurt you think I’d stoop so low as to set you up. My only motive is to get you out of the house. Sandy flashed me his best smile, the one that sent the most stoic of bears groveling at his feet. Besides, whether or not you get lucky with someone is entirely up to you, hon.

      The little voice I’d managed to avoid for the past few months piped up in my ear, telling me a good fuck was just what I needed. I’d tried to squash that little bastard many times, but he proved resilient, just like now. No matter what I did to silence him, he survived and returned stronger every time to torture me.

      Did I really want to go out and have a good time? Hell, yeah, I did. I’d been alone and moping for far too long. The pain of losing my faithless long-time partner to someone younger had faded, and the anger had mostly passed.

      The self-doubt had not. It plagued me in the dark of the night in my lonely bed. I’d passed the age of thirty-five, and that meant I was no longer prime sex partner material. At least in my world. Gay men are notoriously funny about wanting youth, looks, and a generous endowment that had nothing to do with money. At this point in my life, I was only certain I still passed muster on the last one. I sighed.

      Okay. You win.

      Sandy jumped off my desk and clapped his hands with glee. I’ll bring over something festive for you to wear.

      You will not! I pointed at the door. I’m going, but I refuse to dress like a leprechaun. Take it or leave it.

      He grinned over his shoulder. I’ll take it! I’ll take it! And we’ll take your car.

      Damn right we will, I muttered as his backside twitched through the door and disappeared. Sandy didn’t own a car. He didn’t need one. All his lovers were so enamored of him they hauled his butt wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

      That was the real reason he’d sauntered into my office today. His regular chariot was unavailable, and he needed a ride downtown tomorrow night to hook up with the flavor of the month. I didn’t mind. Sandy always managed to lift my spirits.

      Any ambition I had for the work stacked up on my desk fled. I needed some fresh air to clear my head. I told my secretary she could call my cell phone if the need arose and walked into the bright sunshine and brisk air of March. Blessed freedom! It didn’t matter it would last barely twenty minutes.

      I dodged a delivery truck and passed under the iron arch into the park across the street from my office. A pair of ducks waddled out of my way and then fell into step close behind me, quacking. I didn’t have a handful of corn for them today, unfortunately. It would have stopped my stalkers in their flat little tracks and allowed me to walk in peace, which I badly needed.

      Tired of their noisy begging, I hopped a stone wall and cut across the designated squirrel wilderness that opened onto a children’s play area. Not surprising, due to the hour and the bite in the breeze, it was unoccupied. I found the cleanest bench and plopped my ass down. A burst of unexpected anger slammed into me.

      Raymond. Unfaithful, ungrateful, untrustworthy, fickle Raymond. Christ, how could I have been so blind? The last year we’d been together had been...what? A mockery? A travesty?

      How many of my friends had known and tried to tell me he was fucking everyone else in sight? Most of them, that’s how many. I hadn’t listened. Raymond and I had been together for four years, and I’d known him for even longer. I told people how we were two of the fortunate ones right up until the day I came home from work and found all his things—and him—gone. What a fucking idiot I’d been.

      Then I saw him with a boy barely out of high school and realized all the pieces had been there, and I’d not recognized it for a puzzle. His constant obsession with my then-looming thirty-fifth birthday. Raymond called all my friends geezers, coots, codgers. Old. Just like me.

      I wished him well with that pretty little piece of jail tail, really I did. I also hoped the young man didn’t get too badly hurt when Raymond got tired of taking care of him and dropped him. That would happen, too. Raymond liked it best when his lover did all the work and all he had to do was lie back and reap orgasmic rewards.

      It wasn’t that it had bothered me too much that Raymond had been passive in bed, at least not until it was over and I allowed myself to admit there were some things I’d missed. A good wrestling match that threatened to break furniture topped the list. But I’d willingly traded off a few things like that for the safety of monogamy. Only, I’d not really had that.

      Waiting for the HIV test results had been the darkest days of my life. I offered up silent thanks once again that those results were negative. Now I felt I’d taken all the time I needed to get over Raymond, get my head straightened out, and get over it. The last few months had healed the wounds. It was time to do a little bar hopping and let the boys know I was back on the market and looking for some action.

      The sun warmed me, and I opened my coat, leaned back, and basked. Off to my left, the sound of running footsteps approached, growing louder. I opened one eye to sneak a peek at the single jogger using the path for his run.

      He was tall, about my height, which put him at six feet, or maybe six-one. Good build. Runner’s build. Leaner than me, his skin-hugging black leggings showed off thighs nicely muscled from the running. His genitals, snug inside the form-molding fabric, jiggled gently as he moved. He ran with a smooth, effortless gait, gliding almost effortlessly over the ground. He wasn’t even breathing hard.

      I took in his short, curly black hair, dark with sweat, and startlingly blue eyes that locked unflinchingly on my gaze. My cock twitched once, then again.

      I opened both eyes for a better look. He nodded as he jogged past me without slowing. Nice tight ass, too. Probably straight. The really gorgeous ones always were. The disappointment he’d not stopped to say hello went all the way to my groin and my neglected penis, sadly, shriveled. Yep, I need to get laid.

      Duty called. I rolled to my feet with a sigh and headed back to my office, suddenly excited about tomorrow night and the opportunities it provided.

      *          *          *

      The fact I planned to go out on St. Patrick’s Day evening sent me shopping on the way home. Only my name was Irish, and I refused to pretend otherwise, no matter the current vogue of claiming ancestry. My wardrobe contained nothing green except for the tired, old tie I wore every year. The pub crawl, and my private plans for it required something else, something sexy. Like black leather pants that showed off my ass and my package. I enjoyed feeling hedonistic every once in a while.

      Clothing purchased and stashed in the trunk of my car, I slipped into the local novelty store and made a run through the back room for a few party favors.

      I rarely browsed there, as sex toys weren’t really my thing. The few I had acquired over the years lay mostly unused in a drawer somewhere. Perhaps something new was in order to celebrate being back on the open market, something practical like an assortment of gel cock rings in a rainbow of neon colors in case a partner liked cock rings. I stacked the little bands on my fingers and continued to look around the store. A pair of blue eyes stopped me cold.

      Recognition flickered in his interested gaze just before it darted to my brightly decorated hand. He flashed me a smile that showed off perfect white teeth. Maybe I was Irish because my first thought was he’d paid a bundle for those Hollywood whites.

      I knew because I paid a small fortune to keep mine looking that perfect. I smiled back at him.

      Oh, sweet heavens, he’s gorgeous.

      His eyebrow lifted. He licked his lips and gestured toward the colorful decorations I wore on my hand.

      Don’t get the blue, he suggested merrily. Not enough stretch to get it on, and frankly, too weird.

      For whom? I inquired, matching his light and relaxed tone, and holding up my hand to examine the electric blue ring hanging on my pinkie finger.

      Me.

      My heart did a happy little stutter dance and then settled to a faster beat. I hadn’t flirted in a very long time. My dick was getting way ahead of itself, swelling hopefully. I did my best to ignore it, but it felt too damn good.

      So, what’s your pleasure? I wiggled my lavender-adorned middle finger at him. Purple?

      Purple is good, but the hot pink is better. Snug, but not too constricting.

      They looked the same size to me. I’ll get ’em both.

      Enjoy. Gotta go. He grinned at me and walked off. I started to follow him until he walked into the arms of a pretty brunette in a very short skirt.

      Damn, damn, damn.

      I watched as he held the door for her, his head attentively tilted as he listened to her cheerful chatter about what she’d bought. Then his gaze flicked back to me, and

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