Twenty years ago, Dylan and Sebastian weren’t ready for the feelings between them, but the death of Dylan’s father has brought them back together. Dylan lovingly restores classic cars and he’s not keen on sharing his shop with his much younger lawyer stepbrother from the big city. But he doesn’t want to dishonor his father’s dying wish.
When Sebastian returns to Maine and learns of his inheritance, their passion flares into something neither of them is ready for.
Love requires sacrifice, but will either give up the life he’s built for a new life together?
Hard Chrome is a second chance, small town romance with an age gap between a hot-tempered mechanic and a cool-as-a-cucumber lawyer, competence kink (on both sides), a 1955 Ford Thunderbird in need of restoration, meddling best friends (and former best friends), a cat named Simone and a dog named Giles, at least three hundred houseplants, and car sex.
Dylan’s got his hand curled around Sebastian’s neck, and his fingers are in his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. He tugs on the strands wrapped around his fingers, and Sebastian shivers.
“Oh, you like that, huh?” Dylan says against Sebastian’s lips. Sebastian retaliates by muscling him onto his back. He sits up on his knees between Dylan’s legs and plants his hands on Dylan’s chest, just below his collarbones. He strokes firmly with both hands, down Dylan’s chest, over his nipples. Dylan arches into his hands as his palms catch on the tight buds.
“Oh, you like that, huh?” he echoes, and grins down at Dylan’s heavy-lidded eyes.
“Shaddup,” Dylan says, but he’s smiling, so Sebastian does it again. Dylan arches into his hands again, and then he gets to the fly of Dylan’s jeans. He finishes unbuttoning them and tugs at the waistband. Dylan obligingly lifts his hips, and Sebastian peels the jeans off him, tossing them over his shoulder to the floor.
Dylan’s wearing black boxer briefs that cling to his muscular thighs and strain over his erection. There’s a wet spot blooming just under the waistband. Sebastian brushes his knuckles over it, and Dylan pants, “Come on, man.”
He peels the damp fabric off as slowly as he can, until Dylan is naked and sprawled before him, and Sebastian thinks he’s never seen anything so gorgeous. His own erection is about to bust the zipper of his pants, but he ignores that for the moment and dips his head to meet Dylan’s dick.
He flicks his tongue at the slit, getting his first taste. Dylan’s dick jerks against his lips, another bead of fluid welling up, and there’s a groan somewhere above Sebastian. He finally takes pity and engulfs the whole thing in his mouth, and there’s a long, drawn-out “yeah” in Dylan’s deep voice.
Dylan’s not small, and the heft of him fills Sebastian’s mouth perfectly. He goes down as far as he can, then sucks as he comes back up for air. He spares a glance at Dylan, whose pupils are blown wide. There’s a pink flush blooming on his neck and chest.
“Holy shit,” he says, a little breathlessly, and Sebastian grins at him, making sure to show his teeth. Dylan’s head drops back to the pillow, and he stares at the ceiling, as if watching is too much for him.
“Whatever you want, man,” Dylan says breathlessly, his hands clenching at the sheet. “Just get the fuck on with it.”
Anna Kensing writes steamy paranormal historical romances that flirt with taboo. Her characters are often weird, mostly queer, and always get their happily-ever-after. Eventually. She’s obsessed with octopuses and the tv show Supernatural, listens to classical flute duets and heavy metal music while writing, and loves her scotch and Irish whiskies. When she’s not thinking about writing, she’s usually thinking about her next tattoo.
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