Page 43 of Hard Tail
Adam’s eyes lit up, and he pulled out his phone to show me a variety of snaps in various shades of mud. Adam, in a ditch; Adam, standing looking into a ditch. Adam with a skull, presumably ancient and not, say, from his latest acid-bath victim. Adam proudly holding something that was probably a priceless historical artifact but which, to my untrained eyes, just looked like a bit of mud. Adam, with his cock out—what?
He grinned sheepishly and turned the phone off. “Din’t mean to show you that one,” he said, but the way he was looking at me out of the corner of his eye made me wonder just how much of an accident it had been. “You done there?”
I collected my scrambled wits. “Oh—yes, I’m stuffed. You?”
Adam nodded. “C’mon, then. Let’s go back to yours.” There was a suggestive look in his eye, and I realised now was the time to say something like, “I think we should just be friends,” if I was ever going to say it.
I bottled it. Well, there was something about the rough voice and the roguish smile and all right, that last photo that had me thinking, maybe… But basically, I bottled it. Aided and abetted by my treacherous cock. “Okay,” I said, my voice suddenly hoarse.
As we sped through the dark lanes in Adam’s mum’s Mondeo, my mind was a confusing maelstrom of guilt and lust. “Late, isn’t it?” I said nervously. “I don’t know where the time went.”
“’S aright. No work tomorrow.”
“Still, lots of things to get done… I never realised how much time keeping a shop takes up.” Guilt was winning for the moment.
“Y’ gotta have a day off, every now’n’then.”
“True, true.”
“Enjoy y’self while you’re young.”
He thought I was young? I was definitely warming to Adam. “Would you, er, like to come in for a coffee or something?” I asked. Guilt threw up its hands in despair and headed off home for an early night.
Adam gave an enthusiastic grunt and reached over to give my thigh a squeeze, presumably to indicate he was more interested in thesomethingthan in the coffee. I swallowed, suddenly feeling coffee was entirely overrated as a beverage.
As we got out of the car I managed to spare a thought for any neighbours of Jay’s who might be watching, and fended off Adam’s grabby hands halfheartedly. “Inside,” I muttered, my mouth dry with lust. We fell in the front door, and then he was on me, pinning me to the wall with his body, his hard cock doing its best to drill a hole in my thigh. “Oh, God,” I gasped, my own prick doing an impressive impersonation of a red-hot iron bar. I humped against him helplessly.
Probably sensing I was about to embarrass myself copiously, Adam backed off a little. “’S a great shirt,” he said, running his hands up and down the front. I could feel his calluses through the fabric and hoped distractedly he wouldn’t snag the threads. My nipples, however, revelled in the contact, trying to poke right through the material and feel the touch of his warm flesh directly. I opened my mouth to say something, but he beat me to it, sealing my lips with one of his trademark messy kisses. Adam’s tongue invaded my mouth as his hands made a recce over my arse, mapping the territory with his clutching fingers.
“Sofa. This way,” I blurted when he came up for air. I had a feeling my knees were way too weak to manage the stairs right now. Also, as Wolverine was nowhere to be seen, chances were he’d already claimed the bed. Grabbing Adam’s hand, I pulled him into the darkness of the living room. We reached the sofa, and I toppled over onto it with him on top of me. Pushing Adam’s T-shirt up, I ran my hands over his broad, strong back. With my eyes shut, I could almost imagine it was Matt I was groping, although he smelt all wrong—earth and coriander, not cinnamon and sunshine…
This was so, so wrong.Adam, I told myself firmly. I was with Adam, not Matt.
And when had I noticed how Matt smelled, anyhow?
Adam wriggled around on the sofa until he was lying beside me, not on top of me anymore. I’d have questioned the wisdom of this, but it all became clear when he unzipped my jeans with a practised hand and grabbed me through my underwear.
“God!” I nearly hit the ceiling. “Don’t stop!” I added as he promptly did so, probably fearing a repeat of last night’s zero-to-orgasm in nought point three seconds.
He muttered something wholly unintelligible and pulled off my shoes. Did Adam have some kind of a foot fetish? Ah, no—he’d just wanted to get my jeans and underwear off. Very sensible, I thought fuzzily as he swung a leg over my now naked thighs to straddle me, kneeling.
Adam unbuttoned my shirt with infinite care. I struggled up to a sitting position so I could get it off, but he pushed me down again. “Leave it on,” he said gruffly.
Okay, so he had a fetish for Sherlock shirts. I could understand that. I lay back down again, wondering vaguely how he’d look in a stripy sweater. Scruffy, I decided, but also cuddly. Matt, on the other hand, would look absolutely adorable… And oh, God, Adam’s teeth were biting at my nipple. My hands didn’t seem to belong to me any more—they were roaming independently over Adam’s shoulders, Adam’s hair, and any other bits of Adam they could reach. My cock, meanwhile, was rutting helplessly into Adam’s stomach.
It was all so intense it was vaguely terrifying.
“Y’ like that?” Adam asked, pulling off my swollen nipple and climbing off to one side of me. “Roll over.”
I stared at him for a moment, then did as I was asked. Adam grabbed my hips and pulled at them, and I ended up on all fours. “Put y’r head on the cushion.”
It felt vaguely like I was doing some kind of X-rated yoga, all these different positions, but in this matter, at least, I trusted Adam. Even though I felt a bit ridiculous with my arse in the air like that. Were any grey hairs showing? I hoped not.
“Y’r gonna love this,” Adam said. And oh, God, I could feel his hot breath on my arse. He grabbed a buttock in each large hand, pulled them apart, and bloody hell, his tongue was running up and down my crack. I made a sound I would have sworn up until then was humanly impossible, a cross between a wolf howling and fingernails on a blackboard. His teeth nipped at my arse cheeks, and then that serpentine tongue of his stabbed at my entrance, prodding and teasing. My legs were trembling so much I thought any moment now I’d collapse into a twitching heap.
The tongue action stopped. “Wanna fuck you. That all right?”
There was a reason we shouldn’t do this. I was almost positive there was. But for the life of me, I couldn’t, right now, recall what it was. “All right,” I agreed dreamily. I heard ripping sounds behind me; the snap of a condom; then felt the cool drizzle of something oily down my crack.
