Chapter 9
The water was warm, but the moment Wes’s lean frame pressed into mine, it felt like someone had set the cove to boil.
His kisses grew greedy, aggressive in a way I never expected. His fingers dug into my beard, then found their way into my hair. Nails dug into my scalp, lighting my head on fire and driving a need, long buried, to the fore.
I grabbed him roughly, squeezing him against me, willing his body to become part of my own. He didn’t fight. Rather, he clung to me as though I was the last piece of floating safety from a shipwreck.
He bit my lip, and I tasted the tang of blood.
I didn’t fucking care.
Wes could have it all. I wanted him to have it all.
I kissed him back, harder, more aggressively. Our tongues met, wrapped, slid in and out. Each caress was a slick, beautiful exchange, a joining of us in ways I would only later understand.
I needed this man, all of him, and remarkably, he was giving himself to me.
He grabbed my chest, a fistful of muscle, and squeezed. His other hand left my hair and punched my pec, testing my strength. I flexed, and he punched again.
A moan slipped past his lips into my mouth.
“God, you’re so fucking strong. I love it.”
My knees threatened to sink me right there.
Wes’s hand trailed lower, teasing thick hair that coated my chest and stomach. He didn’t stop when he reached my shorts, snapping the button free and slipping inside.
“No underwear?” he breathed. I could feel his smile against my lips. “So daring, mister concrete and mortar.”
I started to respond, but his fingers brushed the tip of my head, and I lost all ability to think. In a heartbeat, my zipper had slipped, and my cock was firmly in his grasp.
One stroke.
Two.
My lips jerked away from his as my head fell back.
“Like that, do you?”
“God, yes,” I called to the open sky.
Another stroke.
“I want to feel you, Mark, all of you.”
I nearly came at those words.
Instead, I locked my gaze onto his, reached down, and gripped the top of his tighty-whities. “You don’t need these, not here, not in our cove.”
He shimmied as I lowered the cloth, then tossed the undies to the shore.
“Your turn.” He grinned.
I didn’t wait for him to deconstruct my shorts and underwear. I grabbed them roughly and danced my way free, tossing them in the same high arc his whites had just traveled.
Our cocks found each other, and the fireworks they lit nearly sent me over the edge for a second time. Just standing there in beautifully warm water, pressed naked against this man, I nearly lost myself.
“God, you feel good, Mark.”
“Keep kissing me, Wes. Don’t stop, please.”
He grinned into my mouth again and said, “I like it when you beg.”
How long we kissed, hard and pressed together in the warmth of the cove, I’ll never know; but at some point, my fingers pruned.
We made our way back onto land. There were no towels or blankets or anything intelligent men would’ve brought for a rendezvous, so I carefully lifted Wes and set him on a smooth boulder.
“Just put me anywhere,” he teased.
My tongue racing across his shaft shut him up . . . well . . . except for his grunts and groans. Those made me lap him up faster and harder and deeper than I ever thought possible. I couldn’t get enough of him in me. I couldn’t drink his skin fast enough.
My mouth tightened around him as precum salted my tongue.
“You taste so good, Wes. Give it all to me, baby.”
His fingers digging into my hair was his only reply.
So I sucked and licked and gripped his balls, forcing his cock to stiffen to its greatest length, forcing his most sensitive places to tingle and stretch.
I cupped his balls with one hand, while the other reached up and felt his stomach, flat with a hint of abs beneath. They clenched each time he hit the back of my throat. That made my dick twitch.
Fuck, I needed this man.
“Damn it, Mark, I’m getting close.”
I gripped him tighter, but his hands flew to my shoulders and pushed me back. Before I knew it, his cock was out of my mouth and he was lifting me upright.
“Get your ass onto that rock,” he said, carefully slipping down to the sand to give me room on our makeshift throne.
I kissed him again, deeply, still needy.
He gently urged me onto the stone. The moment I sat in place, he took me into his mouth.
He wasn’t gentle or slow, he didn’t take his time or worry he might gag.
He just took me into him, gripping the base of my shaft, and sucked me as though his life depended on milking the last drop.
There was nothing I could do but brace my palms on the stone and lie back. I watched birds trace across the cloudless sky before my eyes slammed shut with pleasure.
“Dear God, Wes, what the fuck—”
His only answer was to slip a finger between my cheeks and circle my hole.
I nearly leaped off that rock.
Then he slipped inside, still sucking with all he was worth, and I saw stars.
When he added stroking with his off hand, I lost all control.
“FUCK! Wes, stop, you have to stop or—”
The first shot surprised us both.
Wes sucked harder, lapping it up.
I shot again.
And again.
My whole body drained into him. I swear he took it all, never stopping, never slowing. Even after I was spent, he kept going, my body shivering and convulsing with each lap of his tongue, each stroke of his palm.
When he finally lifted his head and set my exhausted dick free, he smiled up at me. “How was that, Mark Apparently?”
“I may never walk again. You sucked the life out of me.”
He laughed, and the echo of that humor off the rocks of the cove was the most amazing sound I think I’d ever heard.
“Your turn?” I asked, unsure if I had the energy to actually do much.
He shook his head. “Seeing you like that is my reward. We should probably get back. I still have some shots to take.”
And so, my knees still weak, we slipped on our sea-drenched shorts. Wes grabbed his camera, slung it over his shoulder, then reached out to take my hand. He entwined our fingers, and we strode lazily back up the path toward the resort.
I can’t remember ever feeling so completely, utterly at peace.