my tongue up and down each digit until they were slick with spit.
His eyes looked glazed over as he stared up at me. “So damn perfect,” he repeated, and then he opened his mouth and sucked my dick all the way in, and I forgot everything else.
Point of fact: Diesel Church was a dick-sucking god. In my entire life, I’d never felt so utterly consumed, literally and figuratively, as I was at that moment, with his lips tight around me and his tongue playing against my shaft. His hands slid around my hips and gripped my ass cheeks with enough force to leave marks—marks I craved like the tattoo—before he moved to graze his wet fingertip over my hole.
“Dearly beloved—I don’t—This was not in the Camper Scout manual!” I moaned as his mouth worked my cock and his finger teased my opening with such perfect coordination my knees started to give out.
I realized I was holding his hair in a grip that had to be painfully tight, but when I tried to loosen it, he growled around my dick and wrapped his hand around my hand, forcing me to yank harder.
Purple lightning filled the sky, and his eyes were fierce on mine. My stomach flipped end over end like a Slinky falling down the stairs, and thunder rolled in the distance.
“More,” I whispered, pulling at his hair until he slid off with a pop. “I want you to fuck me. Please, Diesel? Please fuck me?”
“Yeah. Hell, yeah.” His eyes were intense, and his breathing was ragged as he pushed to his feet and shucked his shorts with no finesse whatsoever. He held up his hands so I could see them tremble. “Look what you do to me. Shit. I need you so much, Parrish.”
I exhaled a sharp breath. Those were not the three words I most wanted to hear Diesel say, but they were as close as I was going to get in this lifetime, and for tonight, they were enough.
They were plenty.
“Then take what you need. Right now. Hard and fast,” I reminded him as he moved behind me and pushed me down so I was bent over slightly with my hands braced on the railing. “I’m not delicate.”
But when Diesel grabbed the lube and drizzled it down my crack, he seemed to slow down somehow. I peeked over my shoulder to find him watching me, transfixed.
“Diesel? Please?” I whined. My cock was throbbing so hard I had to take one hand off the railing to give it a little relief.
He stepped closer to bat my hand away. “Patience, Butterfly Boy. I’m looking at this ass. This ass was made for fucking.”
I let my chin hang to my chest and clutched the railing with both hands. “I really thought we agreed Butterfly Boy was a no,” I whimpered.
He ran his fingers through the lube and pushed two inside me, since he’d already worked me open. “Oh, I think Butterfly Boy is a definite yes,” he said, his voice a scratchy rumble. Then he leaned over me so he could sink his teeth into the tendon at the side of my neck.
I jumped at the sensation, and so did my cock.
“You’re so damn responsive. I can feel how much you want this. How much you want me. It drives me crazy. And the noises you make, baby… Shit. I wanna bury myself in you until you can’t tell where you end and I begin.” His long fingers hooked inside of me, tagging my prostate.
“Oh, for the love of Cobb salad. This is torture,” I said, my voice slurred. “This is… this is… a serious violation of… of…”
Diesel’s fingers paused. “If you were gonna say the Camper Scout handbook, I’m going to slap your ass.”
I clamped my lips shut, pretty sure that was exactly what I was going to say, but unsure if I should admit it. “I might have been?”
Diesel laughed softly and stroked my aching length with his free hand. “We’re gonna talk about this another day, darlin’. You’re so gorgeous, I can’t hold out very much longer.”
“You shouldn’t hold out any much longer,” I babbled. “Fuck me now. Now would be good… for the fucking.”
He placed a laughing kiss on my shoulder blade and pulled back to cover himself with the condom and slick himself up with more lube. Seconds later, he spread his legs wide to get the angle right, pulled my ass cheeks apart, and poised himself at my entrance.