Chapter 46
Heat.
Pressure.
Sweat.
Drive.
The weight of Brent’s body up against Graham’s own sent a rush of adrenaline coursing into his veins. Fuck, had he missed this man.
This man of a man.
Because make no mistake, even though Brent ran a wholesome cocoa joint by day, when the sun went down, nothing about this hot chocolate hunk was pure.
Just the way Graham liked him.
“Fuck, you taste good,” he moaned as he nipped Brent’s earlobe. The salt of his man’s skin lingered deliciously on his tongue.
Brent cracked a wry grin. “Now I know why you didn’t want to try my hot cocoa. You’d rather sample the hot cocoa man.”
The remark got him a smile as Graham kissed his way further down. “Guilty as charged. Is that a problem?”
Brent bit his lower lip as Graham kissed along his neckline. “Not as far as I’m concerned.”
Graham turned his pressure up a notch. “I thought you might say that.”
Grinding together, the two men allowed their urges to take over. Bit by bit, a rhythm began forming between their two tightly pressed forms.
A rhythm they knew would soon serve them well.
Visions of where the night would hopefully lead filled Graham’s filthy mind’s eye. He’d fantasized about Brent Danvers since high school—since he was nothing but a shy, dorky nerd and Brent was the all-star captain of the basketball team.
Who would have thought that fate would bring them together?
Much less together like this.
Because if Graham had his way, tonight would bring them together like never before.
Connected like never before.
Joined like never before.
Pounding each other’s dirty, sex-crazed brains out like never fucking before.
Just the thought alone sent a thrill to the tip of his dick.
The sound of Brent’s voice then pulled Graham back to the present. “Fuck, stud. This is just what I’ve been thinking about all day.”
The praise sent yet another charge to Graham’s cock.
An Adonis like Brent Danvers—the apple of every girl’s eye back in school and the object of every cougar mom’s fantasies today—lusting after him?
Unable to focus on the needs of the day because he couldn’t stop fantasizing about Graham?
No doubt with a hard-on that had reached the point of aching after being contained so long…
The notion alone made Graham feel firmer below his belt. “Lucky for you, then, I’m just getting started.” He lowered himself further down Brent’s toned body until he reached his stud’s chest.
His firm, full, covered-in-thick-fur chest.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Diving in, he buried his face deep into Brent’s pecs.
God, he could not wait until he was watching this dark, hairy, alpha male chest looming over him.
He could practically picture it now. Brent—his full, manly heft on display—pinning Graham down into submission as he drove into his body hungrily.
Taking him.
Owning him.
Breeding him.
And every last moment, Graham would accept the gift willingly.
Because it would be Brent fucking Danvers giving it to him.
What a view it would be, Graham mused as he licked his lips. These giant, muscled pecs. Those thick, lumberjack arms. That toned, furry torso. All working in harmony to ruin Graham’s helpless hole.
He shook himself back to reality. Down, boy, he recalibrated. If you want Brent to give you the fucking that you’re craving, you’re going to have to work for it first.
Head now clear—or relatively clear, at least—he refocused on worshipping Brent’s beautiful, muscled chest. Up close, his scent hit him head-on. It was that same masculine, woodsy, and sex-drenched musk he’d come to know well.
It drove him fucking feral.
“Holy fuck, Graham.” Brent tossed his head back as his companion brought his lips down around his nipple. “You can do that all night long.”
A warm glow lit in Graham. Certainly, he had bigger plans in store for where the night would lead, but for now, he had no problems at all with taking it nice and slow.
Making it last.
Enjoying every single hot-as-fucking-hell moment.
It hadn’t come all at once, but somewhere along their journey, somewhere amidst the raw masculinity between them and their two cocks growing stiff in their briefs, Graham realized, very subtly, he’d lost his grip on control.
He worked to collect his wits. There was still time to stop this, still a chance to take back the reins. He could end this right now if he wanted to.
He didn’t.
With a deep breath that filled him to the brim, Graham plunged himself back into his dream man’s chest. He’d had his chance to stop himself, his opportunity to opt for the responsible decision.
But none of that mattered now. There was one thing and one thing only Graham cared about tonight—getting his fix of the man to whom over a few short days he’d unwittingly become addicted.
Would he regret this in the morning? Probably. After all, this would only make things harder when it came time to say goodbye. The smart thing to do would have been to shut this down now.
Graham, however, was not in the mood for smart decisions.
If tonight was all he had left with Brent, then Graham, for one, intended to make the most of it.
He brushed his face against Brent’s burly chest, savoring the tickle of every last bristle. Before long, he arrived at his partner’s other nipple. Gently, he set his teeth against that tender, sensitive button, treating it with just the right pressure he knew Brent yearned for.
The writhes of pleasure Brent’s body produced then confirmed it.
Encouraged, Graham worked harder at his man’s nipple, flicking his tongue against its contour, teasing until Brent had practically reached hysterics.
“Jesus, Graham. You’re a fucking pig.”
He had Graham there. Maybe it was the PR man in him, but he prided himself on a buttoned-up public persona. Behind closed doors, of course, the truth was a different story entirely.
And tonight, he intended to let his urges out full force. He allowed his consciousness to sink lower, slowly drifting away as he surrendered to his body’s desires.
His body’s carnal desires.
Losing himself, he became animal-like—hungry, unbridled, driven by instinct. Brent was the man who owned him for the night. The man whose pleasure gave him meaning.
The man who, much like Graham, had desires far more deviant than his public image let on.
Because for all Brent’s curation of his squeaky-clean aesthetic, he was also a shopkeeper, as Graham had happily discovered, who knew just how to get down to business.
The business in question being steamier by far than cocoa.
A pang of fear hit him as Brent rolled his body away. Uh-oh, why is he stopping?
Fortunately, however, pumping the brakes was the last thing on Brent’s mind. As Graham was about to find out, it was a different kind of pumping that was about to occur.
With one fluid motion, Brent ripped off his briefs, exposing a thick, hairy, and raging hard erection.
Graham practically felt his eyes pop out of his skull. “Dude…”
Brent slapped his alpha cock against his hand. “You miss this, stud?”
“Do I ever.”
Licking his lips, Graham drank in the sight of Brent’s manhood. Jesus, this thing was a monster.
It was just like Graham remembered. Ten inches of hard, masculine perfection. And thick as a goddamn boa constrictor.
He felt his heart start to race. This dick was going to feel so fucking good inside him.
Provided, of course, that it fit. Graham had certainly taken plenty of fat cocks over his time in LA. Hell, living in a gay mecca like La-La Land, he considered himself an expert in riding massive man meat.
But this sausage—Brent’s sausage—was next-level. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a man pole so mighty.
So powerful.
So…formidable.
But damn if he wasn’t desperate to try.
A cocky smirk curled on Brent’s face as he surveyed Graham’s fascination. “Go ahead, sexy. Touch it.”
His companion returned a hungry grin. “My pleasure.”