Heat Stroke (Beach Kingdom, #2)(10)

Just like the other night in the bar, Jamie could feel the hands. Sticky, clammy hands, dragging him toward the water. Too many of them to count or fight off. The police sirens. His brother being loaded into the back of a police car, because of Jamie. Because of his idiotic decision. He took several calming breaths and pasted a blank expression on his face. “Relax, Diesel. Let’s just watch some cars get mutilated, all right?”

During the second half of the show, they didn’t laugh as much, but the tension between them ebbed after a while, even if the groove etched between Marcus’s eyebrows seemed to be permanent. When it was over and they’d left the stadium, they took a bus to the LIRR station and hopped on the line back toward Long Beach. The train was packed full of rowdy monster truck enthusiasts headed back to parts unknown, unfortunately, so Marcus and Jamie were forced to stand in the corner by the sliding door. At the next stop, even more people piled on, pushing their way into the crowded car—

And that’s how Jamie found himself pressed against Marcus.

It was a slow progression. They were already inches apart, which was certainly too close for Jamie’s comfort. Then inch by painstaking inch, the distance closed and Marcus hips nudged Jamie back against the tinted partition that blocked them from the seated passengers of the train car. Desperately trying to avoid eye contact with Marcus, Jamie’s gaze cut to the side, toward the other standing commuters. All of their backs were turned. It was as if he and Marcus were really alone in the dim, rocking train car—and that was bad.

Really bad.

Marcus cleared his throat and shifted a little, but not before Jamie felt the other man’s erection drag across against his belly. Due to their size difference, Marcus’s bulge came to rest on Jamie’s right hip, the heavy weight of it fucking with Jamie’s head. Big time. Because before he could recite a list of nineteenth-century diseases and talk himself back from the ledge, Jamie’s own body reacted, too. Not just to their proximity or the proof that Marcus wanted him.

No, it was a lot more than that.

It was Marcus’s beer and bedsheets scent. He smelled like bad decisions that would feel really fucking good. It was the fact that he could hear Marcus’s heart slamming up against his ribs, could see the pulse moving at the pace of machine gun fire.

It was the fact that Marcus made him laugh.

Made him feel good. About himself. About the world in general.

Turned him on with all that strength. All that size.

Fuck, Jamie was in need.

This was one of those times he wished for looser jeans. His cock pressed to the teeth of his zipper, making him bite down hard on his lower lip to distract from the pain. Vaguely, he registered the door on the opposite side of the train sliding open and more people piling on. And the bodies crowding the train forced Marcus closer. Closer. His forearm came up and rested against the partition by the side of Jamie’s head and his dick dragged higher on Jamie’s hip. Pressed tighter. Christ, it was huge. They were so close, he could unzip Marcus’s jeans and stroke him off without anyone on the train knowing.

Don’t do it. Just get through this.

Marcus moved his hips slightly and hissed through his teeth. There was no doubt he could feel Jamie’s arousal on his upper thigh. What would he do about it? Would he move away and pretend this wasn’t happening or would he—

Add pressure with his thigh. Jesus, that’s what Marcus did. He flexed the muscle in his leg and moved it side to side against Jamie’s hard cock. Their breathing turned shallow. Came faster. Marcus’s warm breath rasped near Jamie’s ear, the train rocking side to side just enough that they could probably pass off what was happening as an accident. A byproduct of a packed train. Good. They’d both need the excuse later.

But not now.

The train’s lights flickered and dimmed as they traveled underground, the motion of the train pitching Marcus and Jamie forward and back, urging them together again and again. It wasn’t just the train creating the much-needed friction, though. Not anymore. Marcus was rolling his lower body against Jamie’s hip and Jamie felt the split second it wasn’t enough for either of them. Marcus’s hand twisted in the waistband of Jamie’s jeans and subtly tugged him sideways, once, twice, until their hips were locked—and their cocks ground together.

Marcus moaned into Jamie’s ear, the sound swallowed up by the roar of the train.

Jamie couldn’t regain control of the situation. It felt too fucking good. If he was honest with himself for once, he’d been hate-jerking to this moment for months. Fuck it, since three summers ago when the big, loudmouth had swaggered into the locker room and looked immediately startled to find himself checking out Jamie. Why couldn’t Jamie keep away from someone who had bad decision written all over him?

That was a problem for another time because Marcus was using his grip on Jamie’s waistband to rock them together. They were now openly dry fucking on public transportation, Marcus grunting into the space above where Jamie’s neck curved, pumping his hips against Jamie’s. Jamie’s sac started to tighten and he knew much more of his cock grinding against Marcus’s would make him come. Can’t do that. He could not do that.

He also couldn’t say the words to make Marcus stop.

Instead, he turned his head and sank his teeth into Marcus’s stubble-covered jaw. “Go ahead,” he rasped, licking the marks he’d left behind. “Blame it on the train. I dare you.”