rope. Used condoms were everywhere—everywhere.
Whenever Cam tried to take a break, Evan’s mouth ended
up on his cock. Those thick lips of his worked wonders,
despite their inexperience.
Evan had a massive threshold for pain and no use for a
safe word. He was flexible and could be fucked brutally
from any and all angles. The harder Cam went, the more
Evan called for more, almost to the point of being
demanding, which was, of course, when Cam would pull
out and make him beg.
As an outdoorsman, Cam loved a sunset behind pine
trees. He loved the view from the top of a mountain. Shit,
that all paled to the sight of Evan Brody begging.
By 4 AM, even Cam had to admit defeat. Evan had one
hand cuffed to the bed, thank Christ, or he would have
wrapped that mouth around Cam’s sore cock—again.
“You should stop … studying … art history,” Cam said
between breaths.
“Why?”
“Because you’d make an amazing prostitute.”
“I can’t get hard if I’m not tied up,” Evan said.
“You’ve experimented?”
“Failed more like.”
“Well, you’ve successfully lost your virginity tonight.”
Cam stretched and yawned to the sound of handcuffs
rattling.
“Do you want me to go? Guys at The Rock say you
don’t do sleepovers.”
Cam considered and said, “You’re not a freak, you
know. You’re not sick.”
“Not to someone like you.”
“No.” Cam laughed. “To me, you’re a fucking fantasy
come true. But I mean it. We all have preconceived
notions about what sex is supposed to be, but it’s
supposed to be whatever you want. Preconceived notions
are bull shit.”
“But you had one about me earlier.”