Page 12 of Baker (Bastian Brothers #1)

“I’ve not sorted through the ones I took today.

” He wiggled past me, his ass brushing my shoulder, to grab his camera off the tripod.

I could have turned my head and nipped his backside, but I bit down on the inside of my cheek instead.

Maybe he would have been okay with a playful soft bite on his derriere, seeing how frisky he seemed to be.

Then again, maybe he was just one of those outgoing sorts.

When he returned, he dragged his chunk of wood closer.

So close his thigh and arm were pressed to mine.

I could smell the lingering scent of his soap—something with some cedarwood and citrus—mixed in with the smell of man.

That second aroma was not anything unpleasant at all.

Earthy and masculine with a uniqueness that was all Hanley.

It was inviting and provocative. “There will be a lot of crap shots,” he mumbled as the LCD screen lit up and he started sifting through the images.

To be honest, not a one looked to be crap to my eyes. Not that I was a professor of photography or anything, but I did know a nice wildlife shot when I saw it.

“That one there is really nice,” I spoke up when an image of two does on alert came up.

The sun was just rising, which made their dull gray-brown winter coats glisten with specks of gold as the fresh daylight picked up their hairs of new reddish-brown that were growing in.

Their summer coats would be thinner to allow for maximum heat loss.

It gets damn hot in Oklahoma during picnic season.

“I like how you can see the mist of their breath. And their eyes are so big and pretty.”

“Much like yours.”

I felt my cheeks warm as I turned to look at him.

What I planned to say was a mystery. Baker Bastian was not the king of witty comebacks.

Didn’t matter what words did or did not blunder their way out of my mouth because when my sight touched his, talking seemed irrelevant.

His eyes were glorious. Like some smooth jade stones I’d once seen in a necklace at a tribal celebration at the reservation a few years ago.

I could see flecks of gold in the dark green irises.

The bluebird continued to sing out for a mate.

I wet my lips. His gaze fell to my mouth, then rose back to grab mine once more.

“You know I would be fully down to crawling into my tent with you to while away an hour or so,” he offered, his voice smoky as a winter chimney and just as warm.

“Not that I’m trying to seduce you into letting me prowl your lands with my camera.

My agent said all the rights have been secured with you.

” I nodded. And sat there like a cold toad blinking as my head and body had this massive wrestling match.

Go into the tent. Ride away. Go into the tent.

Ride away. Deep down, in the logical part of my gray matter, I knew riding off would probably be the correct thing to do.

I was not in a good place mentally for a new relationship.

Yes, I was working the program well and felt strong in my sobriety so the standard advice to avoid romantic entanglements was a moot point, I felt.

I was not swapping one addiction for another or anything like that.

I was just in a chaotic situation with every other damn aspect of my life.

So yeah, starting a thing with someone was ill-advised for many reasons.

Knowing all of that, I still leaned over to place my mouth to his and was rewarded with a low hum of pleasure.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, his lips brushing over mine with each soft word.

“Yes,” I whispered. His hands flew to my hair.

Where the camera went, I didn’t know, nor did I care at that moment.

Sitting on stumps while trying to make out was not cutting it so in sync we dropped from the stumps to the ground, kneeling in the soft loam, as our mouths slanted this way and that, seeking depth and fire.

My cock was harder than locust and leaking in my shorts already.

Hanley wasted no time. Mouth still locked to mine, he leaned into me, putting all his weight behind a gentle nudge that sent us both tumbling through the open door of the tent. We fell onto a thick sleeping bag.

“Shit, sorry,” he panted, but I had no clue or care what he was sorry about.

Not one damn thing that he was doing required an apology.

I went to my back, arms tight around his middle, and let him fall between my legs.

I grabbed his head and led his mouth back to mine.

He tasted of grape juice and lust. Something poked me in the lower back as he sprawled over me, his hands bracing his arms, palms on either side of my head.

I licked into his mouth with wild desperation.

I needed this. Badly. Insanely. Whatever happened here was a breath of life into an existence that had been sad and bitter for too long.

I would take what he was willing to give me and run with it after we were done. “God you are a wiry thing.”

He gave my lower lip a tug with white teeth, then sat back, his lips puffy and red, to run his hands over my chest.

“You want to fuck?” he asked as his fingers found the snaps on my coat. One, two, three, and four. He pushed open the coat as I wriggled under him, desperate for months of pent-up release.

“Yeah, yeah, I want you to fuck me,” I huffed while he slipped cold fingers under my flannel shirt.

He leaned up, just a bit, enough to press his erection into me.

My eyes rolled back in my head as he began to grind against me like the most talented of strippers.

He skimmed his fingers up over my chest to find and then pinch my nipples.

My spine arched as he rolled the sensitive nubs roughly, his eyes on me the whole time.

“You are so damn rugged,” he growled, levering himself up to get more weight into the pressure on my groin. My balls drew up.

“Slow…I’m…shit…I’m too close.” He eased back but continued to pluck my nipples. Then he bared them with a rough shove of my shirt and took one between his lips. “Fuck, fuck, stop…”

He gave the nub one hard suck, then rolled off, leaving me winded, splayed out, and unable to think clearly. I rolled my head to look at him pawing madly in his big backpack. He gave me a sultry look over one shoulder.

“Get naked, then get on your hands and knees,” he ordered, and I couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough.

My boots gave me some trouble, but I yanked one off, then the other, whipping them aside in a frenzy, uncaring where they went.

When the cool air hit my overheated skin, I felt a wave of uncertainty.

My gaze traveled to Hanley who was kneeling on a small knit blanket of darkest blue, his gaze locked on my straining cock.

One hand held a condom and the other a packet of lube.

“You are so fucking hot. Now, get on your knees and get that little ass into the air. I haven’t had breakfast yet and I am fucking starving . ”

Holy hell. I’d never been a buffet before.

I rolled around, hands pressing into the sleeping bag, knees spread, ass in the air, and held my breath.

It had been years since I’d been with a man.

Hell, with anyone, but yeah, bottoming had not taken place since The White Stripes were popular.

This was going to sting. Bring it on. I’d ride home with my ass on fire and that was just fine.

I felt him shuffling around behind me, the brush of hairy leg on hairy leg, the tickle of a lone finger moving ever-so-gently over my lower back.

When that finger slid between my ass cheeks, I sucked in a shaky breath, exhaling loudly when it found my pucker.

“Oh shit,” I ground out as he played with the edges of my hole. “Shit…fuck.”

“Not yet,” he replied, his breath hot and moist on my hole before he licked a wet stripe from my balls over my taint to my asshole.

My muscles contracted. My toes and fingers curled as he poked at my opening with the tip of his tongue while capturing my balls.

I leaned back. A low grumble of appreciation met that move, so I began rocking up and back, touching my head to the tiny green pillow resting next to a worn paperback.

“Stop.” He grabbed my hips. I whined. He buried his face between my cheeks and feasted like the hungry man he had just claimed to be.

He ate me so long and so well, I was reduced to a blathering fool.

His teeth nibbled at my left cheek as he fondled my balls.

My cock was so hard it ached, but he had not touched it once. “You are delicious.”

Words fell out of me. Not sure what. Penguins? Taco Tuesday? Who the fuck knows or cares. All I cared about was his dick sinking into my ass. “Such a pretty ass.”

“Stop admiring it and fuck it!” I barked. He chuckled softly before kissing his way from my balls to the nape of my neck, dropping little pecks to each knob of my spine.

“Pushy cowpokes turn me on,” he said, his voice thick and raspy as he placed the fat head of his prick at my hole and began to work himself in one agonizing inch at a time. The burn was intense despite his amazing rimming skills. “Breathe, Baker. That’s it. Perfect. God damn you are so tight.”

Christ he was thick. It took me a few tries to get him seated, but once he was in, he was all in, and it was glorious.

It felt like his cock was taking up all the room inside me, pushing my lungs aside to make breathing difficult.

Maybe that was just my imagination, though.

For when he eased out and slipped back in, I took him all and demanded more.