Heat Stroke (Beach Kingdom, #2)(12)

God, he’d never needed someone more in his life as he had on that train. Until Sunday night, he wasn’t even aware need could be focused so firmly on a person and not the act.

He draped his left forearm over his eyes, as if hiding his face might make his thoughts invisible. It’s just a phase. It’s just a man crush. Shit he’d been telling himself for what felt like forever. His mental denial of his attraction to Jamie made guilt spring up inside of Marcus. And he didn’t fully understand why, but he felt as though that denial was fulfilling Jamie’s expectations. As if pretending what happened between them was a fluke had the power to make Jamie sad, even though Jamie couldn’t overhear Marcus’s thoughts.

The guilt couldn’t override his lust, though. It never could. Marcus’s right hand shoved down the waistband of his sweats and took out his dick. With his left forearm wrapped tightly around his face to trap the thoughts, he put himself back on the train with Jamie, but this time their mouths were engaged. With his tongue fucking into Jamie’s panting mouth, Marcus reached between their lower bodies and jerked down the zipper that had been molded to Jamie’s cock all day, driving him out of his goddamn mind.

“You advertising this cock?” Marcus growled as he started to beat Jamie off. “You want people to think it’s available when it’s not?”

Jamie smirked at him, but his dilated pupils and sweaty upper lip said he wasn’t unaffected. “What if I am, Diesel? What are you going to do about it?” He propped his hands behind his head on the partition, tongue tucked into his cheek. Christ, so hot. He’s so hot. “Convince me to make it unavailable to anyone but you, Marcus. Can you do that for me?” He angled his hips out. “I’ll keep myself just for this mouth if you admit you like doing bad things with me. It’ll be our little secret.”

Marcus was already on his knees in the train car, closing his mouth around Jamie’s cock, using handfuls of his tight ass to pull him deep, deep down his throat. The imaginary satisfaction in Jamie’s moan tugged a very real spurt of come from Marcus’s dick, lubricating his grip where it rode quickerquickerquicker up and down his shaft, filling his small living room with the sound of squelching flesh. Oh fuck. He loved this part. Making Jamie Prince moan.

Jesus Christ. He’d do anything to know what it sounded like in real life.

Not in real life. It has to stay in your head.

Even if he was brave enough to explore this part of himself…Jamie didn’t want him. He liked older men. Men who knew exactly what they wanted. He’d said so.

Imaginary Jamie did want Marcus, though. Focus on that.

Jamie’s fingers speared into Marcus’s hair. He used his mouth, groaning as he fucked it and every once in a while, he brushed a thumb over Marcus’s brow, letting him know he was doing it right. A good job. “What are we going to do with you, Marcus?” Jamie rasped above him. “When you finish me off, you’ll still have that big tent in your pants, won’t you? Are you going to pull my jeans down and push that huge thing inside me?”

“Yeah, babe,” Marcus breathed, getting close to the end. “It is pretty huge.”

Jamie slipped from his mouth and turned around, the sound of his belt clinking bringing Marcus to his feet, panting, unzipping his own pants. He looked around the train at all the passengers. “Right here in front of everyone?”

“Please, I can’t wait.”

Marcus growled, dragging the head of his cock through the split of Jamie’s ass. “Me either. I need you. I hurt all the fucking time—”

The sound of keys sliding into the lock of Marcus’s apartment door was like an atom bomb being dropped. He was so immersed in the fantasy, it took him a moment to believe it was real. No. If the person on the other side of the door had keys, it had to be his brother or father. No no no. His gaze flew around the room as if evidence of what he’d been thinking was visible. It wasn’t. Swallowing the golf ball in his throat, he stowed his protesting cock, got up from the couch and locked himself in the bathroom.

“Where you at, bro?”

Joey.

Marcus pressed his forehead against the closed door and released a long exhale. “I’ll be out in a second, asshole. You forget how to knock?”

“Since when does that bother you?” Joey called. “It’s not like you’ve ever got a girl in here or something.”

“Maybe one smelled you coming up the stairs and climbed out the window to escape.”

“I smell like an honest day’s work,” Joey said, the sound of his boots on the coffee table making Marcus roll his eyes. “Kickstarts a woman’s pheromones like a jumper cable.”

His cock was almost back to its usual size, but he gave it look that said speed it along, bitch. “What are you doing here?”

“Pop is bringing a pizza. The Mets are on.”

This was how he would die. From a brutal case of blue balls. Couldn’t a man get some peace and quiet to rub one out to a guy he was pretending he didn’t want to fuck more than life itself?

He didn’t even know how to fuck a dude.

Like, he understood the logistics, but it had been a solid hell no every time he suggested the back entrance to a girl. No help there. And if what happened on the train with Jamie was any indication, sex with him wouldn’t feel remotely close to being with a girl anyway.