Chapter 17 #2
The rumble Oakley lets out in response is barely audible over the patter of the rain. I stroke my hand up and down his shaft as he scrapes my neck near raw. “You tryna make me come?”
“I didn’t have a plan,” I tell him truthfully. “Just wanted to touch.”
Oakley hums, the sound one of approval, before reaching down to pop the button on his shorts. It gives me more room to maneuver. “And you? Do you wanna be touched?”
“Think so,” I say, my own need like a distant thrum rolling closer.
Oakley doesn’t hesitate. He shifts over me, straddling my waist and opening up my shorts.
He must shove his own lower because, all of a sudden, there’s no barrier at all as I map the shape of him with my fist. His cock is hard in my grip, hot, and I like the weight of it there, the way his breath hitches when I run my thumb over and around his cockhead.
Oakley’s fingers drag over my own cock like a tease, waking me quickly up.
He wraps his hand around me once I’m semihard, pumping with just the right pressure.
I can’t see his features or even the movement of his arm, but I can feel him looming over me, his face close to my own, his panting breaths and quiet exhalations a whisper against my ear.
“Open your hand,” he murmurs. When I do, Oakley settles lower, his grip closing over my own to trap our cocks together. “Just like that, princess.”
My pulse stutters as Oakley rolls his hips once, twice, before letting go, the friction and rub of his cock on mine making me wonder why I never tried this before.
I know why, of course.
But it doesn’t change the fact that this, right here, is so much more than simply chasing a physical high. It’s deeper in my chest, singing through my very bones. I don’t have to think or encourage myself to react. There’s no worry that I’m doing something wrong. Or that I’m wrong.
I’m not broken. I finally, finally, found someone who’s right for me.
I lock my hand in Oakley’s hair, holding him close, my other hand fisting our cocks as Oakley drives against me. He’s not inside of me, but he’s still fucking me, and there’s no room for anything in my mind but joy and aching relief and a vicious sort of protectiveness for what I’ve found.
It’s humid in the air of the tent, and Oakley’s breath on my neck is damp.
But I welcome the building heat, tugging him even closer, nearly jolting when he takes the hint and sucks against the bend of my shoulder.
He keeps at it, kissing me with an open mouth as if trying to devour me, the softness of his tongue and the coarseness of his stubble a contradiction that has my nerve endings on fire.
My dick starts to leak, and Oakley sucks harder.
Ah, fuck.
He shifts, shoving some sort of fabric—a shirt?—between our bodies, his mouth barely leaving my skin. “Can you come like this, princess? With my cock on yours?”
I huff a breath, feeling so damn light I’m fairly sure I could fly. “Why don’t you do your best and find out?”
He lets out a short laugh, a smile on his lips I can feel as he nuzzles roughly against my neck.
My back arches, a distant part of my mind reminding me where I am, but it’s lost the next second as Oakley pulls my head to the side and tugs my earlobe between his teeth.
The teasing nip of pain, the weight of him over me, his cock grinding against my own and the smooth glide as my hand gets wet with precum.
It’s too much. Too raw. Too real. Too goddamn good.
I come on a grunt, the fabric making perfect sense now as Oakley shifts his grip, using the material to catch the mess.
His breathing stutters against me, his hips jerking, his cock throbbing against my palm before he muffles his moan into my shoulder.
I can’t bring myself to let go. Not for a long time.
Oakley’s chest heaves against me, his cock softening in a way I’m fascinated by simply because it’s not my own.
It’s still dark through the tent window, not yet dawn, the rain coming down in a sheet of sound that thankfully muffled our noises, quiet as they were.
Even so, I realize how damn carelessly we acted. It’s hard to regret it when I have Oakley’s body plastered to my own, the man’s dick in my hand a reminder of what it feels like to want, his breath near my ear the same.
It’s Oakley who breaks the silence. “You owe me ten bucks.”
It takes me a second to remember his comment about camp-goers sneaking away to fool around. I give his side a halfhearted shove. “I never took that bet.”
Oakley shakes in near-silent laughter. “I didn’t think it’d be us.”
“No. I didn’t either.”
He pulls back some, but I still can’t make out his face in the dark. “No one’s close enough to have heard us,” he says, sounding as if he’s reassuring me.
“I know. I just… I feel like you’ve woken me up, Oak. There’s so much I wanna try now. So many things I wanna do.”
He sits back after a moment, taking the spare shirt with him. “Well, you’ve got lots of options. You can try whatever you want. With whomever you want.”
My pulse kicks at the idea of being with anybody but Oakley. Not because I don’t think I’d enjoy those things with another man. I’m almost certain I would, the prospect of it not something my mind instinctually shies away from. Not like when I think about being with a woman again.
But I’ve got Oakley. And I don’t want to give this up. Give him up. Not yet.
So I simply hum.
And Oakley and I spend a quiet morning together in a tent as the world around us slowly, slowly wakes.