Page 10 of Free Wind (Lifeguards of Barking Beach #2)

Blake tasted like beer and a trace of berry lippy, his stubble scratching. Damo’s heart thumped like the music from the club was blaring around them. Through them.

He was kissing a bloke.

He was kissing a bloke and he liked it.

Shit, Damo loved it. Loved the strong, taller body shoving against him, both of them instantly hard in their tight jeans.

Everything was sensation and taste, Blake gripping Damo’s face with one hand. The other grabbed Damo’s arse and pulled their bodies together on a mutual moan.

The still air was full of their shared wet gasps, their lips searching. Needing to touch, Damo squeezed his hands between them, rubbing over the silky fabric covering Blake’s torso, his chest hair rough underneath the softness.

Blake’s tongue slid into Damo’s mouth, stroking and leading the kiss. Damo leaned into him, loving the firm muscles against him. His head spun, and he gasped for a breath, words tumbling out.

“I’ve never done that before. Never done any of this. Not with a bloke.”

“I know.” Blake held his gaze, leaning back a fraction when Damo tried for another kiss. Slowly, slowly, Blake ran his palms down Damo’s arms. They were rough and warm. Strong and steady. “I’m on PrEP. You?”

Damo shook his head. He knew what that was but had never thought about it since his mum had drummed always using condoms into his thick skull. “I’m careful, though.”

Blake nodded. “I always use condoms for anal, and the risk of STI transmission during oral is low. For me, it’s worth it.”

“Right. So, we can…use our mouths if we don’t do…” Damo swallowed hard. Was he really going to do any of this?

Stroking Damo’s arms, Blake murmured, “We can take it nice and slow. Or not at all.” He smiled, and this one had a hint of smirk. “I’ll just have to jerk off when you leave.”

Damo’s laugh was high and breathy. “Would you think about me?”

Blake held Damo’s wrists, and he circled his thumbs softly, his gaze raking down Damo’s body and back up in a slow arc. “Oh, yeah.”

When Damo licked his lips, Blake tilted his head, still watching closely. The smudged eyeliner made Blake’s stare even more intense. It was sexy as.

Yes, sexy.

Blake asked, “You like that idea? Me touching myself while I think about you?”

“Heck, yeah.” He couldn’t deny it. Didn’t want to. The water was surging, pushing up the tail of his surfboard, and he was ready to ride the wave.

Blake dropped one of Damo’s wrists and reached down to rub himself through his tight jeans. Damo could see the thick bulge, and it sent every drop of blood in his body straight to his own dick. His mouth was dry as the desert.

“This makes you hard,” Blake stated.

“Obviously.” Damo was shivery all over, sweat gathering where Blake still held one wrist. He swayed forward, chasing more heat.

Blake was still rubbing himself through his jeans, the outline of his cock clear as day. “Do you want me to touch you? Or maybe you want to watch me jerk off?”

As surprisingly good as the last part sounded, Damo could only beg, “Please touch me.” He spread his hands over Blake’s chest. “So hot,” he mumbled, finding Blake’s nipples through the sheer fabric with his thumbs.

Blake moaned. “Glad you like it.” He ran his hands up under Damo’s shirt, but couldn’t get past his ribs.

Damo pulled back enough to undo the top few buttons and rip the shirt over his head. He met Blake’s grin with his own, and while he was at it, he unzipped his jeans and peeled them off with his briefs, hopping on one foot and then the other, cursing the tight fabric.

Then he was buck naked.

He’d been naked with plenty of guys before in locker rooms and whatever, but not like this.

Not when he was so hard he thought he might explode just from the way Blake eyed his straining cock, his chest rising and falling.

The last bit of lippy was smeared in the corner of Blake’s mouth from their kisses.

Damo wanted to push Blake to the soft green rug and rut against him until he came, which would probably be in about five seconds.

Another drop of fluid leaked from the tip of Damo’s cock, his foreskin lowered and balls heavy and tight.

His dick was long and rigid under Blake’s heavy-lidded, smoky gaze.

Slowly, Blake lowered a fingertip and brushed the head of Damo’s shaft, capturing the liquid. Damo whimpered at the touch, his hips thrusting into the air as Blake lifted the finger to his full lips and sucked it clean with a wet, gentle noise that sounded like a kiss.

“Please,” Damo whispered. He had to know. Had to cross this bridge before he shattered into a million pieces.

Blake’s smile was sly as he caressed Damo’s wavy hair, wrapping a curl around his finger. Then he unzipped his own trousers. He wasn’t wearing anything under them, and Damo groaned as Blake’s dick sprang free from a trimmed thatch of dark hair.

Damo reached out eagerly, running his fingers through the coarse hair, Blake’s cock thick and hot in his hands, the red, shiny head peeking out from the foreskin.

“Is this okay?” Damo asked. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Mmm. Sure you do.” Blake rolled his hips as Damo hesitantly stroked him. “You know what feels good.”

Damo wrapped his hand around the shaft more tightly, spitting on it to ease the way. The angle was different, but it was true he’d wanked about a billion times. Blake throbbed in his hand, their foreheads close as they watched Damo stroke him.

Blake walked him backwards, and Damo plopped down on the armchair, breathing shallowly.

Looming over him, Blake leaned on the armrests and licked at Damo’s lips, teasing until they were taking turns kissing down each other’s throats, tongues exploring.

Damo gripped Blake’s corded forearms, the scratch of hair and shift of muscle heating his blood.

With a gulp of air, Blake broke away and stood straight. He peeled off his jeans and dropped them to the floor. Then he teased his nipples through the sheer black shirt, making Damo’s cock sing.

Damo could just make out the tattooed birds on Blake’s left ribcage. Below the hem of the skin-tight shirt, Blake’s dick jutted up flushed and thick. He sank down, grabbing a throw pillow from the sofa to shove under his knees.

Oh, holy shit.

Apparently, Damo had said it out loud, because Blake chuckled, rubbing Damo’s knees with his palms and urging him to sit closer to the edge.

Damo slouched, his legs spread wide with Blake between them. The armchair was soft like a hug, and he was both comfy and as wound tight as he’d ever been in his entire freaking life.

He had a dusting of pale hair on his chest and limbs, and he kept his darker pubes neat. He was extremely glad of that considering he was on display, Blake still slowly caressing his knees while he looked his fill.

Then Blake leaned forward and circled Damo’s bellybutton with a wet, textured swipe of his tongue, and Damo’s hips bucked, a hand flying to Blake’s head. Blake laughed against his fevered skin with a warm puff and licked again.

It felt good, but it was also knowing where that tongue and mouth were surely going to end up that strung Damo tighter than a bow. He’d been blown plenty of times and always loved it, but this was different.

He could feel the scrape of stubble on his inner thighs, and he curled his toes helplessly on the wood floor as Blake finally licked up and down his shaft.

Watching him under his lined lids, Blake sucked Damo into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing. Damo tried to keep still, biting his lip and crying out anyway. “Gonna blow already.”

Blake pulled off, kissing the wet head and rubbing it over his mouth like the dirtiest lipstick ever. “You ever get fingered? Or do it yourself?”

“Sometimes.”

Blake snagged his jeans and pulled out a flat little package of lube from a pocket. He ripped it open and squeezed the cool gel onto Damo’s middle finger. “Show me.”

Damo squirmed. “I’ll do it wrong.”

“There’s no wrong way.” Blake smiled gently, patient kindness shining in his hazel eyes that were so damn pretty.

So, Damo shoved his finger in his arse, slouching even lower so he could tilt his hips. A few girls had put in a fingertip and rubbed, and he’d experimented sometimes. It usually felt good, but with Blake watching, Damo was awkward and hesitant.

He pulled out his finger. “I’d really rather you go back to what you were doing.”

Laughing, Blake went up on his knees and kissed Damo sweetly. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Damo realized the salty-musk taste was from his own dick being in Blake’s mouth, and his balls tingled. He was still hard, the edge taken off from the clumsy fingering, and Jesus, he wanted to come.

Blake apparently read his mind, dipping his head and sucking Damo again, fast and slow, hard and soft, his tongue pushing. His lips looked swollen now, and they felt amazing as he ducked lower to suck Damo’s balls. Wet slurps echoed in the stillness.

Head rolling side-to-side, Damo’s eyes flickered open and shut. His legs were splayed as wide as they could go, Blake’s strong hands holding his thighs. Blake lapped at his balls, then across his taint, which felt incredible.

“Oh my gaaawd,” Damo whined.

“I’m going to use my finger, okay?”

“Huh? Yeah. Whatever, I just need…” His body was tense and quivering, and he clutched at Blake’s shoulders. He gasped as Blake’s lubed finger entered him, Blake sucking his cock again as he probed.

He crooked his finger, rubbing against the perfect spot, and Damo groaned. “Don’t. Stop.”

Immediately, Blake lifted his head, Damo’s shaft bobbing free of his mouth. His finger was frozen inside Damo’s clenching arse. Forehead creased, Blake asked, “Did you say stop?”

“No! Opposite! Don’t fucking stop, because I have definitely been doing it wrong and that feels incredible.”

Grinning, Blake crooked his finger again, sending sparks everywhere, Damo’s whole groin lit up like a Christmas tree. “Are you ready to come?” he asked.

“Been ready since I saw you in that shirt.”