Page 29 of Jacked
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Dre shakes his head, and Fender grins unapologetically.
Xeno and Dre catch up with Ezra on the shore and try to talk him into getting back in the water. Everyone else has already moved on to more splashing and shit-talking, but I’m kind of mesmerized by the tender, familiar way the three of them touch each other. Dre and Ezra end up in a lip-lock that’s completely different from the way he kissed Xeno earlier. It’s soft and slow and sweet as hell. My heart thunders and my mouth feels dry.
Does it feel different to kiss a guy? Lips are just lips, so it shouldn’t be all that different from kissing a woman, right? Somehow, that thought only confuses me more. Like, maybe I should bemorefixated on how weird and different and foreign it would be to have a dude’s tongue in my mouth.
A wave of water hits me in the face, dragging my attention away from the throuple and back to these overgrown dumbasses. But the whole kissing thing stays stuck in the back of my head, just lurking there, sinking its claws in deeper and deeper.
We swim and goof around until our stomachs all start growling, then we haul ass back to camp, get dressed, and start a fire. The afternoon is chill as hell and exactly what I was hoping for. Just a bunch of dudes being dudes in the woods.
Night starts to fall earlier than it should thanks to the heavy clouds overhead, but the fire keeps it well lit for us. Silas passes out beers from a cooler and conversation comes and goes, the silent lulls perfectly comfortable as we all just watch the dancing flames and enjoy the warm night.
“Ah, shit,” AJ mutters.
“What?” As soon as the question leaves my lips, a fat raindrop splatters on my cheek. “Shit.” I laugh.
“Maybe it’ll just drizzle,” Butch says.
Right on cue, as if the sky is just out to spite him, the clouds open up and the rain starts to fall harder. It patters against the dirt and splatters on my skin. The fire hisses and more smoke rises from the pit as the rain does its best to douse the flames.
“Or not.” Fender laughs, standing up and picking up his folding chair to hold over his head for cover.
“Alright, catch you assholes in the morning.” Dre finishes his beer and drags his men off to their tent.
We all scramble to get out of the rain, laughing as we abandon our chairs and empty cans to be dealt with in the morning and dive for shelter from the building downpour. I scramble into my tent, pulling off my hat and tossing it on top of my sleeping bag. Raindrops tap loudly at the outside of the tent, but luckily my fear about leaks seems to be put to rest.
“Motherfucker,” AJ shouts.
“What? What’s wrong?” I haven’t even zipped my tent yet, but before I can stick my head back out to see if he’s okay, his large, bulky frame crowds inside.
“My tent has a leak.” He’s dripping wet, his broad shoulders testing the limits of my tent all on their own, his body filling up the space and then some. My heart beats a little harder, the rain on his skin somehow making him smell evenmorelike himself, like man and spice and…sex.
Fuck.
I swallow hard and try to laugh it off.
“Dude, there’s barely enough room for me in here.” I chuckle, hoping it doesn’t sound as tight with nerves and excitement as I feel. I have no intention of sending him back out into the rain with nowhere else to sleep. I’mdefinitelynot sending him out there to crawl into anyone else’s tent.
That same greedy, defensive feeling I had earlier when Fender was checking AJ out rears up again, and I grit my teeth against the batshit insane urge to growl or put my hands all over AJ before anyone else can. I clench my fists and drag in more AJ-scented air through my nose.
“Tough shit. It’smytent.” He laughs back, not even hesitating before he strips his sopping shirt over his head and drops it right near the entrance to the tent. He zips it closed and then turns back to face me, his huge chest only inches away, completely bare and slick with the rain that soaked through his shirt.
My cock is already hard as fuck, throbbing in my shorts as it slowly dawns on me just how small this tent really is. It’s barely more than a sleeping bag with a roof over it. We’re going to be practically on top of each other all night long.
With our combined body heat and all the moisture, it’s humid inside the nylon confines in a matter of seconds. Rainwater and sweat mix on my skin, making me feel slick and raising goose bumps in spite of the heat as the downpour outside beats against the tent. I try to keep my breathing under control. If I start panting like a dog in heat, it’s going to raise questions I don’t think I’m ready to answer. And it might just be weird enough to send AJ scrambling for someone else’s tent after all.
Fuck that. He’s staying right here. My fingers twitch with the urge to reach for him, to drag over the dampness of his skin and dig into the familiar firmness of his muscles.
“Scoot,” AJ says, crowding up next to me, his body rubbing against mine as he crawls the rest of the way in, completely oblivious to the feral, confusing direction of my thoughts.
So… I guess it’s only one sleeping bag after all?
Oh. I just got what Fender meant by that.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SLATER
AJ shedshis shorts and kicks them down towards where he left his shirt. Even in the dark, the sight of his nearly naked body has my insides heating and buzzing with electricity. His cock is already thickening in his jock, plumping and swelling right before my eyes. Fuck, that’s so fucking…hot.
