Him (Him #1)(60)

“But not tonight.” He says it decisively, as if he’s carrying out some conversation in his own head. That dirty smile returns as he leans in to nibble on my jaw. “Tonight, I want you to f*ck me. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

I growl. “You need to shut up, Canning. Otherwise I’ll do you right now. Bend you over that log over there and take what’s mine.”

Wet lips place a kiss right under my jaw. “Promises, promises.” Then he disentangles from my body and swims backward as if he has no care in the world.

Swimming with a hard-on is extremely difficult. But maybe I should be thinking of my stiffy as a floatation device. Or an oar, because God knows it’s long and hard enough to single-handedly propel an entire f*cking canoe. We swim side by side for a while, then float on our backs and stare up at the inky black sky.

I laugh when I notice both our cocks slicing upward as if to salute the moon. “Should we do something about those?” I crack.

Jamie chuckles. “Yeah, probably. I’m dying over here.”

“Me too.”

In unspoken agreement, we swim back to shore, our naked bodies dripping lake water all over the muddy bank. Jamie stares at his pristine clothes, then says, “Fuck it.” He puts on only his boxer-briefs, and holds on to the rest.

I do the same, and luckily we don’t encounter anyone on the quick walk back to the parking lot. His briefs are black and my boxers are navy-blue, so there’s no peekaboo happening with our dicks, but still, traipsing around in our underwear might be a bit too racy for Lake Placid.

A moment later, we’re in the car. I put it in drive and breeze out of the lot, tensing when Jamie reaches over and strokes my package over my wet skivvies.

“Won’t be able to drive in a straight line if you keep doing that,” I warn him.

“Eyes on the road,” he teases. “Don’t worry, we’re not going far.”

I wrinkle my forehead. I was planning on driving back to the dorm, but Canning apparently has other ideas. We’ve traveled no more than five minutes when he nods to a gravel path to our right. “Turn there.”

A grin tugs on my lips when I realize what he has in mind. It’s the pull-off to one of our old hiking spots. The area is usually deserted even in the daytime, so at night there definitely won’t be anyone around.

I park in the small dirt clearing near the trailhead, and before I can even kill the engine, Jamie is climbing into my lap.





28





Jamie





I wasn’t exaggerating before. I’m addicted to Ryan Wesley. And right now I desperately need a fix. A couple of weeks ago, getting it on with a dude had freaked me out. Now it’s as obvious as breathing that everything about this guy turns me on—his raspy voice, his powerful body, the tattoos inked all over his golden skin. My mouth is on his in a heartbeat, my tongue down his throat as I straddle his muscular thighs.

He sighs against my lips. “You’re such a horndog.”

I totally am. I rock into his lower body, my palms skimming up and down his broad chest. The question now isn’t whether I want to fool around with this man. The question is how I’m ever going to give it up. I push that thought overboard, though, because I’m about to combust.

But I might have been too hasty with my choice of hook-up spots, because the front seat is too small to accommodate two horny-as-f*ck hockey players. My legs are already starting to cramp, and when I shift around trying to get more comfortable, my back hits the horn and a blast of sound hits the air.

Wes bursts out laughing. Then laughs harder when I make another attempt to reposition myself. “Backseat?” he chokes out.

Much better idea. He climbs over first, his butt cheek smacking me in the face as he heaves himself into the back. I land on him with a thud, and now we’re both laughing our asses off. It’s just as cramped back here. We can’t lie side by side, so I’m on top of him, and when I bend down to kiss him, my forehead slams into the door handle. And when I grab my head in surprise, I manage to elbow him in the eye socket.

“Holy f*ck!” Wes yells. “You trying to kill me, Canning?”

“No, but—”

“Abort!” he says between laughs.

Screw that. All this shifting and maneuvering has succeeded in my rubbing my aching dick all over his body. If I don’t get off soon, I’m going to lose my mind.

“We’ve got this,” I tell him. Then I sit up and bump my head on the car roof.

“Uh-huh,” he says solemnly. “Seems like it.”

“Hockey players like it rough,” I argue, reaching into the front seat for Wes’s shorts. In the back pocket I find his wallet. A second later, I flick a condom at him and order, “Suit up.”

“Yes, Coach.” He still looks like he’s trying not to laugh, but his gray eyes are now glittering with lust. Keeping our gazes locked, he eases his boxers down his hips.

I shuck my briefs as he covers himself, then curl over and take him in my mouth. The medicinal taste of the latex fills my mouth, but I ignore it. This is the first time lube hasn’t entered the equation, so I want to make sure the condom is nice and wet before I dare ride his cock.

God, and that’s something I never imagined I’d be doing. Riding another man’s cock.