Heat Stroke (Beach Kingdom 2)

Jamie’s eyes flashed and he caught the sides of Marcus’s face, bringing their heads together, anchoring him in the moment again. “More than anything.”

With their mingled breaths coming faster and faster, Marcus reached behind Jamie and guided his cock to where his fingers had been, breaching the tight space one inch at a time. Jamie latched on to Marcus’s lower lip and bit down, drawing blood, never breaking eye contact and everything inside Marcus grew, swelled, gravitated toward his man. Need. This is what real need feels like. “Jamie,” Marcus panted. “Oh Jesus, it doesn’t feel like I stretched you at all. Babe, if I hurt you, I’ll die. I’ll fucking die—”

Jamie cut him off with a kiss and slowly started to undulate his hips, pushing himself down on Marcus’s rigid dick with every deliberate movement. “You’re not hurting me,” Jamie choked out. “I swear to Christ, it’s the opposite.”

Marcus balls drew up tight and his vision wavered, but he didn’t move. His life was going to end right here and now if he didn’t explore the snug channel Jamie was offering him. But he couldn’t move until he was positive… “Are you sure?”

“Marcus,” Jamie said. “Think of someone else’s hand on my thigh.”

“No.” Marcus drove home with a growl. “Mine.”

“Fuck,” Jamie shouted at the ceiling, his thighs jerking tighter around Marcus’s waist. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

What happened next would be fossilized in Marcus’s memory forever. Even before reaching completion, he’d never been more whole. More satisfied. More himself. His mouth fastened on to Jamie’s and he fucked so much more than his first man.

He fucked his first and last love. He’d never been more sure of anything in his life.

Marcus used the wall and an arm around Jamie’s hips to secure him, then he took hold of Jamie’s cock in his free hand and beat him off between their heaving bellies. He timed the pumps of his fist with the drives of his dick into Jamie’s ass and Jesus, in addition to being the sweetest, snuggest pressure of his life, the movements were like breathing. Jamie’s body flexed and grew shiny with sweat, his eyes fogging over, so masculine and gorgeous, Marcus could only marvel that Jamie was giving him the gift of himself. “I’m so lucky, Jamie,” Marcus slurred, leaning in to lick his tongue over Jamie’s collarbone, his neck, his stubbled jaw. “How am I so fucking lucky?”

Jamie pulled him down into a kiss, flexing his backside around Marcus’s pumping dick, eliciting a growl from them both. “I feel how bad you want to bust, crammed inside me so tight. But you’re waiting for me to pop off first, aren’t you?” Jamie ground out, his breath stuttering every time Marcus rocked upward. “Feels like I’m the lucky one.”

“Not for much longer,” Marcus choked out, his thrusts coming faster, his hips acting of their own volition, his base, urgent needs taking over. “This tight ass is killing me,” he said through his teeth, a sharp spike of urgency prodding him low, low in the belly. “I want to fuck it forever, but it’s squeezing me too hard. Making me come.”

“I’m coming, too,” Jamie near-shouted, the hair on his inner thighs rasping the outsides of Marcus’s hips. “Harder, baby. Please.”

The endearment broke Marcus, cracking something open in his chest and creating a painful strain in his balls at the same time. Jamie cursed, his body jerking between Marcus and the wall, and Marcus felt the wet spurt of Jamie’s orgasm creaming over his knuckles—and the proof he’d pleasured Jamie catapulted him over the finish line like nothing else could. A roar built in his sternum and blasted out of him as he drove deep into Jamie’s ass and released the pressure that had been living inside him for at least a century. “Oh my God,” he bellowed, his open mouth on Jamie’s shoulder. “Oh my God, Jamie.”

Jamie’s arms wrapped around Marcus’s neck and although they were unsteady, they were strong. They kept Marcus glued together when he swore his completion—for once, absolute—would bring him to his knees.

“You okay?” Jamie asked, his breathing labored. “That was…”

“Don’t tell me it was good.”

Jamie raised a sweaty eyebrow. “You don’t want me to tell you that was amazing?”

Marcus moaned. “It’s going to make me hard again.”

“Diesel, you are never not hard. This is a proven fact.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Lucky for you.”

Jamie’s lips twitched, but he didn’t respond. Maybe Marcus had been wrong to imply this would be happening again? His pulse skipped, lead forming the lining of his stomach at the possibility this was a one-time thing. Something Jamie would be kind about in the morning but would almost definitely classify as a bad decision.

“What’s wrong?” Jamie asked, his legs dropping from their perch around Marcus’s waist. “You want to…talk about anything?”