Page 127 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“I am such a brilliant teacher,” he said.
Devan laughed. “I’m paying fifty quid forRide that fucker, cowboy?And—Now, now, now?”
“What more did you need to know?”
The surfing had been what they both needed. Well, what Jonty needed. Devan could probably have done without the seawater he swallowed and the pummelling the waves gave him, but Jonty had enjoyed himself, especially teasing him every time he wiped out and celebrating by dancing on the board whenever Devan got a good ride. And those moments of waiting for the right wave that Devan had used to find tedious? Not anymore. Jonty was…everything.
“What time do you need to go to the hotel?” Jonty asked.
“About four.”
“What time is it now?”
“Three.”
Jonty whined. “I was hoping for slow and tortuous and I’m going to get fast and furious—again—aren’t I?”
Devan sniggered.
They rode the last wave in and walked back to the house, Jonty grumbling, telling him to hurry. Devan was only half-listening. He was too busy staring at Jonty’s backside, which made him think all sorts of bad things. He retrieved the keys from under the rock and opened the garage.
Jonty wriggled out of his suit faster than Devan and took it outside to hose down. “Hang mine up and pass me yours,” he called.
Devan finally peeled himself out of his and took it to Jonty. As he turned to take Jonty’s to the garage, a blast of freezing cold water hit him in the middle of the back.
“You little shit!” Devan spun round only to get another blast on his chest.
“Oops. Sorry!” Jonty went back to spraying Devan’s suit.
Devan shook the water from his hair and hung up Jonty’s wetsuit.
“Yours is done,” Jonty shouted.
Devan knew what was going to happen, but he walked through the spray, grabbed the hose and turned it on Jonty.
“Help! There’s a man with a huge hose squirting me!” Jonty was darting around, holding Devan’s wetsuit in front of him, trying to deflect the water but failing.
Jonty could have moved out of range, but he didn’t, probably because beyond the small paved area they stood on, was an ocean of sandy pea gravel. Jonty smiled, pulled off his swimming trunks and stood there stark naked. Devan took his finger off the trigger on the hose and the water dribbled to a stop. Jonty walked past him, hung up Devan’s wetsuit, then turned for the house.
Devan shut the garage and followed. When they were inside, Devan pushed the door closed and, without Jonty noticing, checked the lock was in place, because even if Devan thought one of them had walked that sand in, there was always a chance he was wrong.
“You are so slow,” Jonty moaned.
“I thought you wanted slow.”
Jonty heaved a sigh. “You haven’t even taken your trunks off.” He pressed wet, cold lips to Devan’s and pouted. “Now I want fast.”
“Ever awkward.” But the kiss was like lighting touch paper. Devan pulled off his swimming trunks. “Bedroom,” he whispered. “I like to chase my food. Run, little prey!”
Jonty gulped and fled with Devan on his heels. The moment Jonty was near enough to the bed, Devan leapt and brought him down, pinning him in place. Jonty laughed and groaned at the same time, then fell silent and immobile as Devan nipped the junction of his neck and shoulder, before slowly licking down his spine. Devan could feel Jonty shivering, but he doubted it was because he was cold. He trailed his tongue over the crease of Jonty’s backside, spreading his cheeks and finally fluttering his tongue over his tightly puckered hole. Jonty still was neither moving nor speaking.
“Have I killed you?” Devan asked.
“You expect speech? I can barely breathe.”
Devan licked him again, exactly as before, but this time Jonty pushed his arse against Devan’s face.
“Fuuuuck,” Jonty gasped. “Oh, that feels so…bloody…good.”
