Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Nah.” Renzo removed his own boots and followed Canaan into the center of the small tent. It was barely tall enough for him to be able to sit up in. Unlike last night, he had a plan to avoid any unwanted emotions. He’d get Canaan off fast with his hand or mouth, then when Canaan was all sleepy, he’d quickly take care of himself and go to sleep. Easy. Expedient even.
But like earlier, he was totally unprepared for Canaan having his own agenda. As soon as the tent was zipped, Canaan straddled Renzo’s thighs, kissing him slowly and thoroughly until Renzo’s brain turned to oatmeal. And when Canaan pushed him back against his sleeping mat, he went easily, forgetting that he was supposed to be in charge. Renzo’s plans had not accounted for how damn much he enjoyed kissing Canaan. Sucking at his lower lip, Canaan did a move that never failed to make Renzo’s dick throb. He groaned, equal measure arousal and discomfort.
“I got you,” Canaan whispered, reaching for Renzo’s waistband.
“Hey,” he protested. Canaan’s agile fingers were definitely not the plan. Renzo tried to sit, but Canaan pushed him back down. “Wait. I wanna get you off. Bring your dick up here.”
“Oh, I’m planning on getting off.” Canaan’s chuckle was warm and knowing. “But I’m not passing up a chance to play with you again.”
Making a hungry little growl, he claimed Renzo’s mouth in another blistering kiss as he pushed his pants and boxer briefs down. Renzo could have stopped him, could have tried objecting again, could have done any number of things other than helping Canaan out, raising his pelvis so his clothes slipped down to his knees and he could kick them free.
“You too,” he ordered, pulling his T-shirt off, because bare on bottom only felt weird.
“Cold.” Canaan laughed as he made fast work of stripping, then stretched out on Renzo, grabbing his sleeping bag and draping it over his back.
“Cozy?” Renzo had to laugh at how Canaan had orchestrated this entirely to his satisfaction.
“Am now.” Canaan resumed making a meal of Renzo’s mouth, and he couldn’t summon an objection to this treatment. Felt too good, Canaan on top of him, hard cock rubbing against Renzo’s stomach, eager mouth finding Renzo’s again and again. Finally, he sat back on his heels, stroking down Renzo’s chest.
“I love you waxed in your videos, but this fuzzier look is hella sexy too,” Canaan whispered.
“Waxing shows muscle definition better.” Renzo inhaled sharply when Canaan circled his nipple before dancing his fingertips lower.
“Yeah? I think you’re plenty defined.” Canaan leaned forward, licked at Renzo’s neck, before straightening and resuming his tease, coming closer and closer to Renzo’s cock, but not actually touching it.
Renzo made a frustrated noise. “You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you?”
“Yup.” Canaan sounded all innocent. “Need to make sure you’re okay with—”
Having reached the end of his patience, Renzo grabbed Canaan’s hand, put it on his dick. “You wanted to play? Go ahead.”
“Mmm.” All but purring, Canaan started a barely there stroke.
“Fucker. You’re evil. But I know how to get you back...” Renzo let his hands roam all over Canaan’s torso—shoulders, arms, stomach, then lightly flicked his nipples.
“Oh, yeah. Do that again.” Even in the dark, Renzo could see Canaan’s head fall back, feel the tension as he arched toward Renzo’s hands. The sleeping bag fell away, but Canaan’s skin was warm under his fingertips.
“You like that?” Renzo played with him, little pinches and flicks and rubs until Canaan was panting and seemed to have forgotten about his wish to torture Renzo’s cock. Good. Canaan all pliant and needy was the best Canaan.
“Fuck. I need...” Canaan trailed off into a sexy-ass moan that made Renzo’s dick jump.
“I know.” Renzo switched to one hand on Canaan’s nipple and one hand on his cock, which seemed tailor made for Renzo’s fist.
“No. Not like that.” Canaan shifted, a weird sort of shimmy that knocked Renzo’s hand loose and aligned their bodies, his balls brushing Renzo’s. And before he could fully process that sensation, Canaan lined up their dicks, rubbing his up and down Renzo’s.
“Damn. That feels good. Never...”
“Never tried frot like this?”
“Not exactly like this,” Renzo admitted. “Some grinding sure, but that doesn’t feel like this.”
“Mmmm. You give me all sorts of good ideas. Here.” Canaan grabbed Renzo’s hand, brought it to their cocks. “Your hand is bigger.”
Canaan said this like it was the best thing ever, and as he demonstrated what he wanted Renzo to do, he made little moans that got Renzo pretty damn close to the edge even with a minimum of friction for his dick. Even if the moans were more for show, Renzo’s pulse surged.
He loved being able to turn Canaan on, and if him stroking both their dicks at once got Canaan off, then he was only too happy to experiment, figure out how best to grip them, what rhythm to use. The angle was a little awkward compared to when he did it to himself, but the novelty of having a cock rubbing against his more than made up for any weird pressure on his wrist.