Heat Stroke (Beach Kingdom, #2)(45)

Jamie’s gaze tracked upward from his hand, over his stomach, ending on Marcus’s face. “So your solution is a cock cage?”

“Well I could beat off before we go out…” He waggled his eyebrows. “But we both know I’ll just be hard again in fifteen minutes.”

“More like five.”

“You’ve now complimented my size and stamina. Is it my birthday?”

“Oh my God. You’re actually insane.”

Marcus reached over and traced his thumb along Jamie’s lower lip. “I’ve never been able to talk to anyone about sex. Not like this. Not without making stuff up or feeling awkward or even lying to myself. You do this for me.” He leaned in and kissed Jamie softly. “And Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve got a nice big dick, too.”

A laugh puffed out of Jamie’s mouth. “Happy birthday to me. Apparently I need to start drinking pineapple juice, though.”

Marcus touched their tongues together. “Nah, you taste so fucking good, I assumed you were already drinking it by the gallon.”

Jamie moaned low in his throat. “If we don’t start making juice…”

“Say it.”

“Not a chance, Diesel.”

“Fine, I’ll take one for the team. If we don’t start making juice…”—he closed his hand around Jamie’s bulge, massaging it—“…you’re going to start making juice.” Marcus laughed when Jamie cringed. “Come on, you were thinking it. You’re gross just like me.”

“Jesus Christ, I was thinking it. You’re clearly rubbing off on me.”

“Literally.”

A laugh escaped Jamie before he could lock it up. He banged a fist on the counter, seemingly to make up for displaying his amusement. “Juice. Now.”

Marcus couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. He’d made Jamie laugh and they were spending the night together at his place. Cock cages were a thing. All was right with the world. “Fine.” He reached down and took some more containers out of the refrigerator. “Since I already know how to make these recipes, I thought I’d teach you. Just in case…”

Jamie raised an eyebrow. “In case what?”

Self-consciousness dried out his mouth. “In case you ever wanted to be here, helping me. I know you’re busy and you’ve got seventeen jobs, but, uh…this place doesn’t just feel like mine. It feels like ours—”

Jamie stopped his ramble with a hard kiss, before giving him a second softer one with just enough tongue to make Marcus’s balls tighten up. “Show me how to make the juice,” Jamie rasped. “I want to learn so I can help.”

“Thanks,” Marcus whispered, moving to stand behind Jamie, both of them facing the counter where one of the industrial-sized juicers sat in the midst of all the fruit and vegetable containers. “All right, let’s start with the Hangover Cure. Beets, lemon, apple, ginger. Or BLAG. That’s how I remember it.”

“That’s probably how it tastes, too.”

Marcus laughed into Jamie’s shoulder. “Maybe so, but it works.” He put his mouth to his boyfriend’s ear. “Just follow the recipe on the paper. Two beets, two apples, half a lemon…”

Jamie growled and moved back that crucial inch to settle his ass into the curve of Marcus’s lap. “I assume you’re going to have a laminated recipe list?” Jamie asked in a rough voice.

Marcus slid his hand along Jamie’s hip, around to the flat of his stomach. “Discussing office supplies makes you hot, doesn’t it?”

“God, yeah.” Jamie stuffing the ingredients to the juicer. “Talk file storage to me.”

They both laughed. “Add a little bit of ginger now. Like half an inch.”

Jamie did as he was instructed, then Marcus’s free hand guided Jamie’s to the black plastic food pusher, both of them applying pressure and forcing juice out through the spout, a gentle whirring sound filling the space. “This is exactly like that scene from Ghost,” Marcus said. “When Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore are making that ceramic pot.”

Jamie’s body vibrated against him and Marcus savored the proof of his laughter. “If I die prematurely, please leave Whoopi Goldberg alone. I don’t need to be haunted by you in death as well as life.”

“I’m Swayze in this scenario. And you never minded me haunting you, babe.”

“No, I didn’t.” Jamie sighed. “There’s a good mix of sweet and savory options on the menu, Marcus. The names are clever. You did a really great job planning it out.”

“Thanks, Jamie,” Marcus said, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest. “For taking juice seriously, even though it’s just juice. For everything.”

His boyfriend didn’t respond, simply turning off the blender and pouring it into one of the disposable Dixie cups they were using while waiting for the branded supplies to arrive. Jamie turned, holding the cup to his mouth, and Marcus waited anxiously for the verdict.

“That’s annoyingly good,” Jamie muttered, licking a stray drop from the corner of his lips. “I thought the ginger would be overpowering, but it’s invigorating.”

“You talk pretty.”