CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Asher wanted to take Cameron somewhere safe, then go back and break every bone in Richard’s round, smug face. “What a fucking douchebag.”
“I agree.”
After a couple of deep breaths to calm his racing pulse and ease the pounding in his temples, he finally managed to get some of his rage under control. “What happened?”
Cameron shrugged, but he pressed closer to Asher’s side. “I was coming out of the bathroom and literally ran into him. He wanted to buy me a drink to apologize. Said he missed me.”
“Do you believe him?”
Again, he shrugged. “No, but it wouldn’t matter if I did. I have nothing to say to him.”
The knot in Asher’s chest unraveled, and he breathed out on a long sigh. “Do you want to leave?”
“Nope.” A mischievous grin stretched Cameron’s lips, and he took Asher’s hands, walking backwards toward the stairs. “I want to dance.”
If Cameron wanted to dance, Asher would give that prick Richard a show he’d never forget. “Let’s go.”
Grasping Cameron’s hand, he led him down the stairs and out onto the dance floor, finding an empty space that could be seen from the upper level.
Locking one arm around Cameron’s waist, he pulled him closer, molding their bodies together, not leaving even an inch of space between them.
Territorial didn’t even begin to cover what he was feeling.
Fuck, he wanted to strip Cameron down and rub all over him like a fucking animal so that all the other beasts would know to keep their distance.
Yeah, Richard could go fuck himself, preferably with something sharp.
“Hey,” Cameron called over the music. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
So not fine.
Looking over the top of Cameron’s head, he glanced toward the balcony, unsurprised to find Richard leaning against the railing, drink in hand, eyes narrowed.
He watched them, stalking their every dip and sway, his lips moving as if muttering obscenities to himself.
Caught up in glaring at the douchebag, Asher didn’t immediately realize he and Cameron had stopped moving until he heard the man laugh.
“What?” he demanded, dragging his gaze away from Richard to focus on Cameron.
“You’re jealous.”
“I am not.” Great, now he was jealous and childish.
“Don’t worry.” Grabbing Asher’s waist, Cameron jerked him forward and swiveled his hips, grinding their groins together. “This whole possessive thing you have going is really doing it for me.”
“Is that right?” Focusing on Cameron proved a lot more fun than worrying about his idiot ex. “Like this?” Remembering the first time they’d dance together, Asher grabbed Cameron’s ass in both hands, squeezing hard. “I’m not sure I’m doing it right.”
“Oh, yeah.” A wicked, teasing grin stretched Cameron’s lips, and he lifted his arms to wind them around Asher’s neck. “Just like that.” His fingers danced up Asher’s nape and skimmed along the back of his head, tickling the short hairs there. “Kiss me.”
Fuck.
No one got to him the way Cameron Stone did.
Two little words, spoken just loud enough to be heard over the pulse of the music, and Asher was already hard and aching.
Fisting one hand in Cameron’s silky locks, he kept the other pressed against his tight backside, anchoring him in place as he slanted their mouths together.
The sweet, needy moan that spilled from Cameron’s lips was the best compliment he’d ever received, but it didn’t do a damn thing for his self-control.
They weren’t even dancing anymore. Hell, they weren’t moving at all other than the tangle of their tongues and the sporadic moments when they readjusted for a better, deeper angle.
His dick throbbed, his pulse raced. Perspiration beaded across his brow, and he couldn’t think at all beyond yes, now, naked, more.
“Find Nico,” he demanded, punctuating the command by dragging his teeth down the side of Cameron’s neck.
“What?” Sinking his fingers into Asher’s hair, Cameron tilted his head back, swaying against him.
“Find Nico,” Asher repeated, his voice harsher, strained.
“Why?”
Asher thrust forward, pressing his erection against Cameron’s hip. “To tell him we’re leaving.”
Cameron lifted his head, blinked, then nodded slowly before taking a step back. “Let’s go.” Taking Asher’s wrist, he began walking backwards, pulling him toward the exit. “I’ll text him from the cab.”
~
Stumbling through Asher’s front door, Cameron grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him into a kiss that said everything words couldn’t.
He needed to touch him, taste him, to feel every hard ridge of muscle pressed against him.
Flashes of them both panting, sweating, and tangled together played through his mind on an endless loop, and he felt like he’d shatter if he didn’t keep kissing him .
“More,” he muttered, his voice barely recognizable to his own ears.
Releasing his hold on Asher’s shirt, Cameron grabbed him by the back of the neck, holding him tight, pulling him in until their hips met. It wasn’t enough. He needed to be closer, to feel more skin.
“Take it off.” He didn’t even care what “it” was. He just wanted it gone.
“Damn,” Asher gasped, walking Cameron backwards across the foyer. “You make me fucking crazy.”
The heat pouring from Asher scorched him, but Cameron reveled in the burn.
No one had ever wanted him like Asher wanted him—desperate, consuming, and without reservation.
A hand tangled in Cameron’s hair, jerking his head back, and he whimpered—actually fucking whimpered—when Asher laid siege to his mouth.
“Bedroom?”
Asher shook his head. “Too far.” Still kissing him, groping him, Asher continued to walk them across the foyer. “Den.”
Cameron managed to kick off his shoes and unbutton his jeans, but that was as far as he got before Asher’s hands joined his, stripping him until he was left naked and flushed.
It took even less time to get Asher out of his clothes, and by the time they made it into the den, Cameron was hard enough to pound nails .
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” Pushing him down onto the sofa, Asher followed, stretching out over him as he claimed Cameron’s mouth in another delirium-inducing kiss.
“Condoms?” Cameron gasped, riding high on the compliment. “Lube?”
Crawling up Cameron’s chest, Asher reached over the end of the sofa, rummaging through the drawer of the end table.
Though distracted by the sight of the long, thick cock just inches from his mouth, Cameron still had enough presence of mind to question the availability of the supplies Asher pressed into his hand.
“You keep condoms in the den?” He held up the clear, plastic bottle and arched an eyebrow. “And lube?”
“Reformed manwhore,” Asher answered, lowering himself into the cradle of Cameron’s hips. “There are condoms and lube in every room of this house.”
“Even the library?”
Asher tilted his head, his eyes sparking with humor. “Those I added after I met you.”
Then his mouth crashed down on Cameron’s, silencing any response he might have given. Cameron groaned, his body quaking with desire, and he arched upward, seeking more friction against his aching length.
Apparently, Asher didn’t have the patience for foreplay or preliminaries, which suited Cameron just fine. He didn’t need to be seduced, not this time .
Rising off him, Asher took the lube and condom, then pulled him to his knees, turning him and pressing his chest against the back of the sofa.
The snick of the bottle cap was his only warning before he felt the brush of slippery fingers along his crease.
Arching his back, he lifted his ass higher, offering himself freely… shamelessly.
A single lubed digit pressed between his cheeks, ringing the muscles of his entrance.
Inhaling deeply, Cameron held the breath for a moment, then released it slowly, letting go of all the tension in his body as he exhaled.
Relaxing into the caress, he hummed his readiness, pressing back against the gentle touch and groaning when Asher’s finger breached him.
Asher prepared him quickly, almost roughly, one finger becoming two, stroking in and out of him, playing him like a finely tuned instrument. On the next inward glide, he curled his fingers, chuckling when Cameron went stiff and let loose a string of curses.
“Found it.”
“Congratulations,” Cameron panted, digging his fingers into the cushions as Asher continued to rub against his prostate. “God, you’re such a fucking tease.”
“And you’re mouthy when you’re frustrated.”
Cameron whipped his head around, glaring at Asher over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t be frustrated if you’d shut up and fuck me already. ”
Asher’s fingers slipped from his ass, and the hazel of his eyes darkened with challenge. Shuffling closer, he bracketed Cameron’s thighs with his own, holding his gaze as he ripped open the foil envelope and rolled the latex down his shaft.
“So, that’s it, huh? Just shut up and fuck you?”
Cameron nodded. “Preferably with lots of lube, but I’ll take it however I can get it.”
Another snick of the bottle cap, pregnant pause, then strong hands gripped his ass, spreading his cheeks as the blunt tip of Asher’s cock pressed against his entrance.
“Cameron,” Asher mimicked. “You’re awfully demanding tonight.”
“Goddamn it, Ash—”
His words cut off in a strangled groan when Asher shoved forward, sliding into him in one hard plunge. From there, primal instinct ruled. Cameron had only one heartbeat of pause to gather his bearings before Asher began an all-out assault against his senses.
Sight, smell, touch, taste—nothing registered except the two of them. Every hard, driving thrust pushed him closer to the edge. The further his control slipped, the more bruising Asher’s hold became, and Cameron loved every second.
“More,” he demanded, rocking back, meeting Asher thrust for punishing thrust. “Harder. ”
One hand on Cameron’s shoulder, the other on his hip, Asher thrust into him hard and fast, nailing his prostate on every other plunge.
Pressure built in Cameron’s balls, tingles swept over his sweat-dampened skin, and his head started to spin from lack of oxygen.
Gasping and panting, he braced one hand on the back of the sofa and reached for his bouncing cock with the other, fisting the length and jerking it from base to crown in quick, desperate strokes.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “Gonna…”
“Yes. Do it, Cam.” Asher slammed into him and grinded against his ass, his cock rubbing against Cameron’s prostate. “Come for me.”
Cameron couldn’t have stopped his orgasm if he’d tried. Burying his face into the cushions on the back of the sofa, he cried out, his body jerking and stiffening as he spilled long jets of semen over the leather upholstery.
The hand on his shoulder moved to twist in his hair, pulling him up and to the side so that Asher could cover his mouth in a bruising kiss.
The rhythm of Asher’s hips stuttered, his movements becoming short and quick, and a few thrusts later, he moaned into Cameron’s mouth as he shuddered through his release.
“Jesus Christ,” Asher muttered long seconds later as he rested his head against Cameron’s temple. “It just keeps getting better.”
Cameron had to agree. “Sorry about your couch. ”
Chuckling, Asher dipped his head to kiss Cameron’s jaw. “I don’t give a damn about the couch.”
“Mm, good to know.”
They needed to shower, and probably find something to eat. Cameron also needed to drink his weight in water if he wanted to avoid a hangover the next morning. First, he had to remember how to make his limbs move.
“Shower?”
Asher brushed a kiss against his nape as he eased out of him. “Yeah, shower.”
“Okay.” Cameron bobbed his head a few times. “Maybe you can just carry me there.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He could take it however he wanted, but Cameron still couldn’t move. “I’m just going to stay right here for a minute.”
“Yes, stay.” Asher ghosted a kiss down his neck and across the expanse of his shoulders.
Cameron had the distinct impression they were talking about a lot more than just him finding the energy to move from the couch. “Is that what you want?”
Asher simply hummed in agreement.
Too content to rock the boat or freak the guy out with “serious” talk, Cameron closed his eyes and grinned. “Okay, then, I’ll stay.”