You Can Leave Your Hat On, page 11
Hard fingers moved between his legs, exploring the tight sac and then leisurely moving on. A sliding caress of one angular hip and then the long blunt fingers slowly traced the crack of Gabriel’s taut ass.
Then came the delicate press of a thick fingertip on the hot pink hole of Gabriel’s anus.
“Holy mother!” the man said huskily. “You feel so ripe, so ready for me.”
Gabriel moaned again, shivering. “Oh…fuck!”
The fingers pierced him slowly, sweetly. Slickly. Slickly? Lube? Where did this guy get lube? Was he some kind of always prepared sexual Boy Scout or did he find it in a desk drawer? It wasn’t hard to believe in this place: tubes of KY dispensed with the bottles of Wite-Out.
“Is that a request?” The man pressed his lips next to Gabriel’s ear. The hand holding Gabriel’s straining cock in its callused warmth stilled. “Because if it isn’t, I’ll stop now.” Though the voice was no less seductive, an undertone of inflexibility cut through the haze of Gabriel’s lust. “I have no wish to take what is not truly desired.”
Gabriel twisted, staring back at the stern, handsome face watching his own. The big man’s cock was nestled hotly in the crease of his ass. His own shaft rested trustingly in the other’s tight grip. And now the guy wanted to discuss it? Jesus fucking Christ!
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Lena Matthews, You Can Leave Your Hat On
