Page 81 of The Retreat

Your humble BJ servant: I’m drooling.

Frotting Daddy: save it for me.

As soon as I hear his keys jangle in the door I stand in front of it.

Colin pushes it open, giving me a curious look. “Hi.” He tries to walk inside, but I stop him.

“Strip.”

“Right here?” He swallows, visibly glancing down the hall. “Where our neighbors could see?”

“Better be quick.” I cross my arms.

It’s too cold to wear his normal short shorts. But when he strips off his coat, he reveals a crop top, giving me a view of his abs. I lick my lips. I want to devour him. He leaves the shirt on, fingers finding the button on his jeans, opening it before sliding his zipper down to expose perfectly manscaped dirty blond hair leading down to his cock.

I groan, unable to hold it back. “You don’t have anything under those?”

“I thought we’d be alone on the plane and wanted to surprise you.” Colin toes off his boots and pushes the denim down his thighs, leaving him in only the crop that reads: Does this shirt make me look like a whore?

The irony. I love it.

He reaches for me, but I take a step back. “On your knees.”

He meets my eyes as he lowers down to one and then the other.

I walk backward a few more steps. “Crawl.”

He smirks, confidently crossing the floor to me on hands and knees. His lean muscle twists over his body like a work of art, and Colin knows how hot he is.

“Do you even understand how hard you make me?” As I say the words, I realize how it sounds. I admired him—his body—not just his mouth. Does that mean I’m gay?

I instantly start to reject it, but I stop myself. We’d fucked our cocks together. I’d crossed so many lines, and I’d been horny as fuck the entire time.

I like fucking Colin, and he makes me happy. That means something.

“Show me.” Colin presents his tongue.

“That’s not what I want.” I make a snap decision.

He grips his cock. “Frotting?”

“No.” A wicked grin curls over my lips.

“No?” Colin is reeling with the answer when I drag him to his feet.

“Where is your closest lube?”

It takes Colin a full ten seconds to catch up. “It’s—what do you want to do?”

“Where?” I demand.

He leads me to the dining room adjacent to the entryway and pulls a bottle out of a decorative vase. A primal need comes over me as I snatch it from his hand and flip him around, forcing him over the solid wood table. Colin catches himself with his palms and arches his ass up, giving me a glimpse of his pink hole.

My dick throbs. I kick his ankles open wider, stepping between them. I grab his beautiful, full ass, spreading him as I massage his cheek.

“Owen?” His tone is questioning.

I don’t answer, instead I rub my thumb over his opening. He presses his forehead into the table, hissing. I pop open the bottle and drizzle it down his slit. He lifts up on his toes, groaning. My slick thumb massages the silky fluid around his hole. He presses into the touch, and I almost slip inside.

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