Page 39 of Hearts Colliding
“We’re on a beach, sand’s a given. Stop fussing. You’ve had your sandwiches, now just eat your dessert.”
Alex didn’t need to be told twice.
Easing him wider, Alex buried his face between muscled arse cheeks and pushed forward. Ryan jerked as he eased through the ring of muscle, muttering something Alex couldn’t make out. Alex stopped, but the soft slide of Ryan’s fingers through his hair was the silent signal to continue.
Licking, sucking, Alex’s tongue pressed deeper into the tight, hot channel. Bitter heat coated his tongue as he sought more, pulsing deeper. Saliva filled his mouth, drenched his lips, and soaked his chin, as Ryan rocked his hips, riding his tongue. Ryan jerked, his body rippling in tiny spasms. Alex felt for Ryan’s cock. Wrapping his hand around the pulsing shaft, he pumped him hard, wringing a strangled moan from Ryan, whose orgasm burst from him, flooding Alex’s palm as the muscles of his channel squeezed and gripped.
Ryan’s release was the signal for Alex’s own, his body jolting as waves of wet warmth crashed over his sweat soaked skin. Ryan’s softening cock slipped from his grasp, and he collapsed onto his back, a trembling, panting mess.
Little by little, Alex’s breath began to calm, and he blinked into the bright blue sky. They were on a public beach, naked and coated in cum. Anybody could find them, they could be arrested, they could be… Alex swept his hand across his smeared belly, lapping up his own release, mixing it with Ryan’s. Next to him, Ryan shuffled around. Catching Alex’s wrist in a firm grip, he licked his hand clean.
“I came without…” Alex looked down at his stomach, at the sticky remains. It was a first, and significant, but his mushed-up brain couldn’t grasp why. Strong arms bundled him up, and Alex melted into them, letting Ryan hold him tight and whisper how amazing he was, how beautiful…
The shake was gentle but insistent. Alex opened his eyes and blinked up into a sky that showed the first signs of pink and purple as the sun dipped below the horizon. He was wearing his hideous trunks, but had no memory of pulling them back on.
“Wakey, wakey. Time to go, babe.”
Alex blinked again, more asleep than awake.
“Babe?”
Nobody had called him that before. Babe… He tasted the word, and liked it. Yawning, he pushed himself up to sitting. Yes, he liked it, but what he didn’t like was the sand sticking to his skin and the dried crust of salt, mixed with a whole lot more. He scrubbed through his hair, and dry gritty sand fell out.
The air was cooling fast, and Alex shivered as Ryan dressed quickly, tugging on his jeans and shirt, zipping and buttoning with sure, fast fingers. Alex grabbed his own clothes, but his body was as dazed as his mind, and he fumbled, every part of him uncoordinated. With a soft laugh, Ryan took control and helped him stumble into his jeans and T-shirt, before shoving him down onto the boulder to push on his trainers and tie their laces.
“Come back with me?”
Kneeling at his feet, Ryan looked up, his smile soft as he nodded.
“Just try and stop me,”
A long, slow kiss later, they joined hands and walked along the beach, warmed by the last of the sun’s rays, towards the rough, hidden path as they made their way home.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
“You’ve given me lime gin, not orange, and the wrong tonic.” The scrunched up face of the prissy little man on the other side of the bar glared at him.
“Sorry about that.” Ryan replaced the drink. “On the house, for the mistake.”
“I should think so—”
Deep in his pocket, Ryan’s phone pinged and he turned away, the sour-faced customer already forgotten, as he pulled his mobile out and read the message.
Ryan bit down on his lip. He could do it at a stretch. A couple of messages and minutes later, the date was confirmed. Ryan picked up a linen cloth and began to wipe the sparkling clean glasses.
Date.
Was it that? Making arrangements for lunch and the maybe, possibly, probably indulgent dessert of the non-calorific variety could, conceivably, be called a date. He stopped wiping the glasses and, cloth in hand, leaned back behind the bar.
His gaze swept around the pub. All were regulars, and most present had spoken passionately against the development. What would they say if they knew he was fraternising with the enemy? Would they call him a traitor and a hypocrite? Would they take their custom elsewhere? Would they turn away from him in the street? The questions, and Oliver’s words from the first meeting of the war council, crowded in on him…You’re well respected in the village… What you do and say, it matters…A knot twisted in his stomach. It would all vanish in a puff of smoke, as he became a pariah in the community he was so much a part of. He rubbed at the clawing tension in his stomach.
Yet, they’d made being just them work, the day before at the beach, so why couldn’t it work again? What harm were they doing to anybody? A couple of local farmers slammed their hands on the bar, calling for pints of Badger’s Arse ale, jolting him out of his thoughts.
The lunchtime shift finally drew to an end, and with a sigh of relief Ryan closed the door on the final departing customer and locked up.
He walked into the kitchen. “Mum not around?”
