“Like hell I do.”
“Go.”
I grab hold of his arm—which feels like a handful of granite, yet sounds like smacking the tightest ass you can imagine—then swing him around. Harrison parts his mouth to protest.
My mouth covers his instead.
He falls back against the desk, nearly sitting on top of it, as my arms wrap around his back. I pull myself against him as best as I can, right between his legs, as I devour his lips.
Our breaths come out and explode in urgent, hungry bursts.
I can’t get enough of this man’s mouth.
He pulls his face away. “Damn it, Hoyt, stop doing that!”
“It ain’t me. It’s our lips doin’ all the bad.” I go for another.
Our mouths press together. Eyes shutting. Bodies giving in. He doesn’t resist at all, melting into the kiss as our lips lock.
Then quite suddenly he does resist, shoving me away. “Hoyt!”
“I swear, it ain’t me.” I kiss him again. He pulls away. “Are you doing this? Are you makin’ us kiss? Hey, that was all on you the first time.”
He scowls at me. “Fuck you, Hoyt.”
“Fuck you right back, Harrison.”
Then suddenly it’s him grabbing hold of the back of my head and directing my mouth to his, this time accompanied with the deepest, most guttural moan that it vibrates our faces. I grab at his shirt, tugging it in every direction with no actual intention.
He squeezes my body against him like no tomorrow as the kiss grows alarmingly powerful.
And it’s still not powerful enough for either of us.
My dick is so fucking hard right now, it aches, pushing against the confines of my tight jeans.
Suddenly he’s off the desk and I’m stumbling backwards. Then the pair of us are standing in front of the door, lips still locked and finding new ways to attach to each other, breath exploding from our nostrils. One of his hands grabs low, cupping my ass. I realize that’s a great idea and reach around to his backside, squeezing a mighty, desperate, horny-as-fuck handful of his cheeks. I grind his crotch against mine.
My back finds the door as he presses against me. The kiss has become so strong, it aches my teeth. His hands slip under the front of my shirt and drag up my abs, clawing at them with need. I tighten my grip of his ass. The loose material of his sweats makes it feel like I’m grabbing every bit of him with no clothes on at all, my fingers sliding into the cleavage between his muscular buns of goddamned steel.
Suddenly the kiss ends. He stumbles over to the bed, leaving me. “Fuck,” he grunts, catching his breath.
I’m out of breath, too, staring at him, my back still against the door. “Harr—Harrison …” I shake my head. I grab a big handful of my crotch, surprised to feel my dick throbbing through the denim. “Harrison, I’m … I’m fuckin’—”
“Don’t talk.” He sits on the edge of his bed. “Fuck,” he grunts again, then clutches his head with both of his hands.
“I’m so fucking hard right now.”
“I said don’t talk.” He puts his head between his knees.
“We gotta do more. We gotta try more. I dunno about you, but I am not getting any sleep tonight, not unless we figure out—”
“You gotta go.”
For some reason, that makes me let out a choked laugh. “Like hell I do! You’re as much responsible for what’s goin’ on in my pants right now as I am.”
He glances over at me.
Specifically: at my crotch.
His eyes lift to mine. “That’s your own problem. And you have about a dozen ways to deal with it. One of them’s called your own damn hand, conveniently attached to your body.”
“Yeah, my problem is conveniently attached to my body, too. Don’t you have a problem of your own over there?”
“No.”
I come to the edge of the bed, putting myself right in front of him. “Difficult to hide a problem in gray sweats,” I tease him.
He glances down, sees it, then looks up at me without making any effort to hide it. “If you don’t get out, I’m gonna put you out.”
“Can we just jerk off together or something?”
“Go, Hoyt.”
“C’mon. This place is, like, a fuckin’ farm of sexual frustration. Even the animals are frustrated. You get a good look into Peepers’ eyes? She’s horny as fuck every day. That’s why she’s runnin’ off.”
“Hoyt …”
“So why can’t we just jerk off and make out or something? We are obviously discovering something here. You had a thing for Lance. I had a thing for Toby. Neither of those things worked out.”
His eyes turn dark. “Now you’ve said too much.”
“Why be miserable apart when we can be miserable together?”
He rises from the bed and grabs a less-than-gentle hold of my shirt. “Hey!” I protest as he takes me over to the front door. “Hey, c’mon! How can you throw another dude out of your cabin with that situation in your sweats?”