Heat Stroke (Beach Kingdom, #2)(51)

Marcus’s fingers splayed on the floor, before his hands shot into fists. “It hurts. Ah God, it hurts so fucking bad. Jack me off, babe. Please please just touch it.”

“If I touch it, what will happen?”

“I’ll come. I’ll come.”

Jamie leaned down and flattened his chest on Marcus’s back, speaking in a rasp against his ear. “You’re getting so much better at tests, Mr. O’Shaughnessy. Too bad you won’t be able to sit properly in my classroom after I’ve worn you out with this cock.”

Marcus moaned through his teeth, his lower body started to writhe back, meeting the drives of Jamie’s hips hard. So hard that a wet smacking noise filled the room and their knees started to slip on the slick floor, two sets of legs and feet fighting for leverage, Jamie never ceasing his relentless taking of Marcus’s ass.

“Jamie. Harder. Harder. Harder.”

“Look down at your cock, baby,” Jamie rasped in his ear. “Is it getting thicker?”

Marcus’s head dropped forward and he growled. “Yes.”

“Is it swinging around, same way it does in your pants? Driving me fucking crazy wanting to get on my hands and knees for it?”

“Jamie.”

“One stroke.” Jamie licked a path up the side of Marcus’s neck and latched onto his ear, biting down. “Just one and then you better stop.”

Marcus’s hand disappeared beneath him faster than the blink of an eye, his back flexing as he stroked himself. A moan broke from his throat, strangled and rife with frustration, before his hand slapped down down on the floor. “Fuuuuuck.” His hand smacked the floor again, once, twice, big body heaving. “I’m dying. I can’t. Faster please. More.”

Marcus’s back arched, his thighs sneaking wider and Jamie hips began to move in a blur out of pure necessity. Out of his dick’s need to be stroked fastfastfast so the mounting pressure in his balls would go the fuck away and Christ, there was no other place in the world he wanted to empty himself than inside this man. “My fucking man,” Jamie gritted into Marcus’s sweaty back. “Give it up for me.”

Jamie drove harder than ever before, pressing deep and holding while he licked the salt off Marcus’s back—and Marcus started to shake, his ass muscles tightening up around Jamie’s cock, blanketing Jamie’s vision with twinkling lights. “Jamie. Oh God—”

Over. It was over. Hearing Marcus say his name during his climax made Jamie’s own balls erupt, pleasure/pain ripping up his back. The rhythmic squeezing, the proof of Marcus’s pleasure, all of it thoroughly undid him and the incessant ache between his thighs ebbed in waves while he cried out, his mouth opened on Marcus’s rippling spine.

They collapsed sideways onto the kitchen floor, Marcus rolling over onto his back moments later after they’d both drifted back down to reality. He faced Jamie with a grin blooming on his sweaty face, totally unabashed in his nakedness. “Damn, Jamie. You put it down.” He raised his hand for a high five. “I thought you were going to make me call you Daddy.”

Normally Jamie would have rolled his eyes and said something sarcastic, but he’d literally never felt lighter, happier or more optimistic in his entire life. He watched himself return the high five in slow motion and erupted into laughter. Marcus joined him. And there they lay for another twenty minutes, laughing on the kitchen floor with their dicks out like absolute lunatics.

Life couldn’t get any better.

But it could get worse.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN





Jamie woke up with a bad feeling in his stomach.

He couldn’t explain it. At first. But when he cracked an eye open and realized he’d fallen asleep on Marcus’s couch and the sun was way past risen, panic crept into his bloodstream. Marcus was spooning him from behind on the plush, brown couch, both of them in their birthday suits. They’d fallen asleep watching a true crime series on Netflix and the screen wanted to know if they were still watching. Jamie’s boyfriend snored gently in his ear, completely gone from the world. Completely unaware that they’d overslept.

Jamie’s pulse kicked into high gear. He didn’t want Marcus to wake up and find him there. He didn’t want to see Marcus’s panic. The glow from last night was too perfect, too fresh, and Jamie wanted to live inside the bubble of it as long as possible. If Marcus woke up and got nervous, feeling compelled to explain again that his brother and father had keys, the bubble would burst and Jamie would remember he was a dirty little secret.

Just for now, he reminded himself, easing out of Marcus’s grip. You love each other. Stay positive. This was a unique situation and not some pattern. Jamie needed to remember that. But as he went around the living room and collected his clothes, dressing as quietly as possible, a voice in the back of his head repeated one word again and again. Wrong. Wrong.

Wrong.

Jamie shook his head resolutely and looked at Marcus, relieved when the sense of rightness rushed back in. That’s all it took. Looking at the man, picturing his grin, thinking of the words he’d whispered in Jamie’s ear before they fell asleep last night.

I need you. I’ve needed you forever.

Someday I’ll bring you to fucking Thailand for potstickers, Jamie. Watch me.

I love you so much it’s hard to breathe.