Page 27 of Last Destination

“Don’t walk away.” He muttered the words through gritted teeth, his eyes squinting in discomfort toward my index finger slowly rolling over the imprint of his cock head. Relief pulsed through me when shudders wracked through him with every swirl. I couldn’t stifle the wicked grin from splitting my cheekbones.

Stepping in closer, I shifted until the bulge in my shorts brushed up against his, and the soft whoosh of his hiss against my cheek sent a thrill up through the top of one head to the tip of the other. My palms gripped his hip bones and forced him so close not even air could pass between us without effort.

His lips parted and the hitch in his breath and the unadulterated heat in his gaze seared me to scorching. My mouth hovered over his, ghosting his lips with my words as my hand cupped the package in his pants now fully in my palm.

“Shall I lend a hand?”

Ambrose snorted and his near-black hair fell over his forehead with the exasperated shake of his head, while his bulge swelled impossibly larger. “You are such an asshole.”

“I have a great asshole,” I corrected, dancing my fingers up to the metal button that would release him into my eager hold. “But you’re not ready for that yet.”

I nipped the soft flesh of his bottom lip before sucking it into my mouth, at the same moment my hand slipped beneath his boxers against the buttery softness of his skin. His sharp inhale sucked the air from my vicinity, and the hard kiss he pressed against my lips caught me by surprise.

Yes, baby, kiss the shit out of me. Give me everything. You’re going to beg me to make you come.

I gripped the base of his shaft with gentle fingers and stroked upward, relishing the full-body shudder that rolled through us both. With my other hand, I pulled down my shorts and freed my cock from its painful prison. It bobbed against the front of his pants, seeking friction, wanting to feel the velvet warmth of him, too.

Ambrose was exactly what I needed to take the edge off. I let him control the kiss while I controlled his cock. His tongue slipped into my mouth and caressed my own before his determination to taste me took hold.

I loved the soft kisses of women, especially when those lips were Marley’s, but the rugged masculine jawline and forceful way a man kissed me was a thrill I equally craved. We waged war on each other's mouths while pre-cum leaked from my tip onto the scratchy fabric of his trousers. My cock was greedy for its own attention, and I gave in to its demands.

With my free hand, I shoved his boxers halfway down his molded thighs, then gripped the two of our cocks between my fists, stroking upward as one. Explosive pleasure rippled through me at the blissful hot contact of the skin no other man had touched. Ambrose practically melted in my hold when I stroked us again. His sharp hiss could have woken up half the jungle, and I froze, waiting for the inevitable call from one of our survivor’s club to ruin our moment.

Suspended in time, I held two cocks, while Ambrose bowed his head to my shoulder, burying his desperate sighs of want as he thrust against me, needy for more.

When nothing but birdsong and long-distance monkey hoots came, I resumed, jerking us both off in slow, methodical motions to drive both of us wild.

“Are you” — he gasped when I tightened my grip and tugged faster — “pierced?” Another soul-wracking shudder passed through his body as I showed him God. He kept his voice low but his praise high, bucking against me like I’d released him from a hetero-normative cage.

“Fuck, Nikki. Fuck, that feels so good. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He was whimpering, my beautiful, newly christened bi boy.

He wasn’t wrong. Our pre-cum leaked down our shafts, providing the perfect slickness to give the right amount of friction, and the stars I was already seeing behind my eyelids meant I was in for an incredible come. His hands gripped my shoulders when I withdrew one hand from around our cocks to massage the sensitive skin just beneath his sac.

“Does that feel good, baby?” His head still rested on my shoulder, but I needed to see his eyes when I made him explode. “Look at me, baby. I need to see your face when you come.”

His head snapped up. His tan face was flushed, and his golden-brown eyes glistened with lust. A delicious smirk spread over the lips I’d one day fuck. “Yes, sir,” he said, breathing the words.

Fuck me. “Yes, sir,” indeed. Sir Nicolas, only in the bedroom, I’d told him. Had he been thinking of me since then?

His eyelids kept flickering closed in ecstasy with each pull, and the euphoric tingling up my spine meant I only had seconds before we both lost ourselves to each other.

“You look so good, baby. I’m going to take this one step further, is that alright?”

He released a feverish groan, and his eyes rolled upward. I tightened my grip one more notch before he eagerly bobbed his head yes. I waited for the inevitable tension of his thighs and the slight lift of his balls before releasing us both. Dropping to my knees, I enveloped his cock in the heat of my mouth just as hot cum released from his tip.

While I sucked every salty drip on my tongue, my cock released like a firehose into the ferns at my feet, the relief so vicious, I nearly passed out as every limb turned to liquid.

Dazed, I stumbled back to my feet and gripped his chin, claiming his mouth to give him a taste of himself. He didn’t just allow me the pleasure of snowballing him. He sucked it back and sucked on my tongue for good measure, wringing every drop from my body before releasing my lips.

We both sucked back steadying gulps of humid air, as the gray overhead got a little brighter, indicating morning.

The thirst I’d carried for hours after Madman and Marley’s inevitable coupling was finally quenched, but I’d uncovered another pesky problem. Ambrose Park and his desperate little sounds and greedy little body made for an addictive combo, and the taste I’d had would not be enough.

My knees met the ground in a triumphant thump as my legs gave out, my calves too jellied to maintain an upright position, laying me waste at my lover’s feet. An intricate tattoo I’d never noticed — I’d never had the opportunity to stare at his thick thighs from this angle, more like — scrawled leisurely over the bulk of his left thigh. A serpent, a dragon, and the outline of a man were all intertwined into a tapestry of blue and black ink, the scales and shading so exquisite, it was as if they danced along his skin.

Our Ambrose had a slutty thigh tattoo this whole time, the minx.