“Do you wanna leave?”
Hell no! Martin’s head popped up, and he shook his head fast.
“Let’s dance.” Garret gripped his hand.
“Oh, I’m not sure ’bout that….” Martin dug his feet in the ground.
“Marty….”
Maybe night should be blamed—the way a man could hide in its shadows—the alcohol or the mysterious, sweet smoke in the air, but he silenced his protests and allowed Garret to lead him onto the dance floor.
Taking hold of his hips, Garret began to sway to the tropical sounds of the small band playing steel drums and guitars while the singer filled the bar with his sultry tones. Martin remained still, feeling foolish as men moved like liquid sex around them. While the sight aroused him—or could it be the taste of tequila and Garret still in his mouth?—he felt grossly inadequate. Having been trained in classic dance, this grinding was completely foreign to him. Sure, he’d seen it, but such dancing had been designed by the trendy, those with rhythm and confidence.
A familiar panic grew inside him, but then Garret’s masterful eyes twinkled out from behind his glasses. “Trust me, Marty. I got you.”
Despite being scared of where they were and what he already felt for Garret, the tension in Martin’s back eased the instant Garret took his arms and placed them around his neck. Heart pounding, Martin buried his face against his strong throat, stubble scratching him, beard tickling him. Unbelievable gratitude and attachment swept over him, and he relaxed into Garret, allowing him to roll their bodies as he saw fit.
How had he managed to stumble across this glorious man today? Moving to the exotic music, he decided he didn’t care what beautiful accident had brought them together. He closed his eyes and went with it. Though it might sound crazy, he felt safe with Garret.
He trusted him.
The tempo of the reggae tunes and beat of their hearts set the rhythm of their bodies. Garret slid a leg between his thighs, flush to his balls, and began a sensual undulation of hips, gripping Martin’s butt and pressing their groins together.
Damn, he loved how those big hands almost covered both his cheeks.
Squeezing, Garret pulled his ass open a little bit, and Martin moaned at the delicious stretch of tender skin. Their hard cocks rubbed together as they moved, exciting his blood. He’d never danced with a man before. Like making love on a dance floor, fully clothed, with no one staring, judging. Two men doing something straight people took for granted all the time. It was sheer heaven.
Garret whispered his name and when he raised his face, Garret claimed his mouth—no foreplay of lips this time, just raw hunger. Whimpering under the dominant way he fucked his mouth, Martin arched into him, craving closeness to this force of sexual heat and power. Though, the only way to be closer would be naked with Garret buried deep inside him.
Fire scorched his middle as they kissed, and he found himself thrusting in time with the music, begging for what he suddenly needed—to be claimed in the most carnal way. Garret ground their erections together, his hands clutching and drawing Martin closer still. Their breaths came rough through their noses, as if neither wished to break the connection of their mouths. Hunger, electric and wild, raced through him when Garret trailed frantic kisses up his neck, over his jaw, finding erogenous zones heretofore undiscovered. He trembled when Garret sucked on his earlobe, taunting him with what his mouth might do to his dick.
“You taste so good, Marty. I can’t wait to eat your ass,” Garret murmured in his ear. “Taste your cum.”
A violent thunderbolt of desire ripped through him. “Bloody fucking hell! Aye, please… I want ya, too…soo verra much.”
Garret jerked his head back. “What did you say?”
“Aye,” Martin pleaded, unbearable craving consuming him. “Evera thing ya said. I want it, too. Please, sir….”
“Where are you from? I’ve been trying to place your accent all night.”
“Scotland.”
Garret groaned, his grip on Martin’s ass tightening. “That is so fucking hot,” he said, dragging him off the dance floor, and once more into the unknown.
He didn’t resist. Rather, just like he had been doing all night, he ran after him, a dog in heat. “Where are we going, sir?”
Whirling on him, lust blazed in Garret’s face. “To find somewhere I can get your dick in my mouth.”
“Um…right. Okay.”
Chapter Five
Martin had no idea where Garret led them, but he didn’t care. He didn’t give a damn about the groans coming from the shadows behind the bar, propriety—nothing. Nothing mattered but being with Garret.
Halfway to the beach, past tall grasses flickering in the breeze but still within plain view of the patio above them, Garret pressed him against the rail lining the path, kissing him with a sudden passion. Formidable hands cupped his face, and Martin groaned, his entire body hungry.
Despite the pleasure of Garret’s teeth nipping at his neck, his mouth sucking and drawing up a love bite, Martin could not ignore the sounds of men laughing and dancing on the patio above. When he glanced up, he caught a guy with a beer watching them, smiling.
“Garret…people can see….”
“So?” He stroked Martin’s chest, making it extremely difficult to think. “Maybe I want them to see.”
“But….”
“Shhh,” he whispered, his lips feather-light on Martin’s neck, hands snaking down the back of his waistband to grip the bare flesh of his ass. “Maybe I want them to see you’re mine.”
His fear dissolved at that word.
Mine.
Garret kissed him then. Lost to his power, Martin closed his eyes and let his mouth hang open so Garret could do what he chose. He would anyway.
Which was just how it should be.
No one had kissed him so thoroughly before, taking his time, exploring the inside of his mouth, and lips, licking him everywhere and leaving him breathless. He held still, savoring and being savored, while Garret taught him a whole new definition of oral sex.
When Garret retreated to catch a breath, Martin’s tongue followed, needing more. Garret flicked it with his own, then sucked on it, teasing it like a glans. Martin whimpered, his dick so hard it had become painful. The fervent way Garret caressed the length of his back made all the skin on his body tingle. His thumbs slid to the front of Martin’s trousers, brushing his abdomen as they fiddled with the button.
“I’m gonna blow you.”
Martin shivered, loving the coarse, American terms, the sinful promise in his tone.
Until reality hit him.
Fear cut through his passion fast, and his eyes went to the men on the patio, some of whom had paused to watch them. When the weight of what Garret intended hit him, he gasped, arching away. “Right here?”
Garret’s grip on his waist tightened, his expression heavy with carnal authority. “Right here.”
“But—”
Another impassioned kiss cut off his protest.
Martin whimpered under the assault of mouth and tongue. Damn, he would sell his soul to Garret if he would promise to kiss him like this forever. His resolve dissipated, and he swayed his hips to the rhythm of the music drifting from the bar, his reasoning power obliterated as his dick took over all normal brain function.
My God, what is this man doing to me?
Garret withdrew, turning his hat backwards and tucking his glasses into the V of his collar. “Trust me, Marty.”
Breathing heavily, Martin’s eyes darted to their spectators.
Garret tsked. “Only me, Marty. Only look at me.”
Unsure, terrified—and harder than he had been in all his life—he nodded, attention locked on Garret kneeling in the sand before him. Off in the distance, he heard someone say, “Get a load of that.”
This can’t really be happening….
Undoing the button on his trousers, Garret ever so slowly slid the zipper down, never looking away from his face. “Do you trust me, M
arty?”
“Yes,” he responded, his body aching, heart pounding. “Yes, sir.”
It seemed to please Garret when he called him sir, and, damn, it felt appropriate, fitting, to do so.
When his erection spilled free, he sucked in a gasp. Garret took hold of his base and Martin had to seize the railing, for fear he might cum or collapse from anticipation alone. Garret’s lips opened, and Martin held his breath, waiting for his expert mouth to touch him, taste him. Claim him for all to see.
He had never been more terrified.
He’d never felt more alive!
Still watching his face, Garret licked his crown in one slow sweep. Martin groaned and his thighs tensed when that masterful tongue swirled over his nerve-rich head again, flashes of heat rocketing through his body. Staring down his bare torso, chest heaving for air, he watched Garret kiss his head before taking it into his mouth, sucking on it like he had Martin’s tongue, moaning with pleasure all the while. Then he went deeper, his talented mouth massaging his shaft while his hand stroked Martin with a gentle rhythm.
When the suction surrounding his dick intensified, Martin buckled over. “Shite!”
“Take it all the way,” an unfamiliar voice called from above.
“Deep throat him!”
Martin flinched when he saw the crowd of men, some stroking each other or themselves over jeans and shorts. The two of them had been rendered live porn—there for the viewing pleasure of strangers.
“Garret,” he whispered, trying to pry him off. But Garret seized his hips, tightening his mouth around his cock, the motion stimulating Martin and making him moan. Though his mind reeled with mortification, a deep-seated need to let this continue filled him. How could he have the courage to allow a virtual stranger to do this to him?
Then again, Garret had never seemed like a stranger.
Not from the moment they met.
Garret’s voice reached him through the chaos, bringing his attention back to him. Where it should’ve been all along.
“Ignore them, Marty. Look at me. Only me.”
That throaty, commanding tone had Martin nodding his consent. He closed his eyes and pursed his lips. There’s no one but us…no one but us….
While he heard voices, felt the oppression of their watchful eyes, he tried to tune it out and enjoy the warm, wet suction consuming him once more. His grip on Garret tightened, and soon the gentle crash of the waves, his own trembling breaths, and the wet sounds of Garret pleasuring him were all he could hear. Caressing the back of Garret’s head, he bumped his hat off to run his fingers through those unkempt curls. When Garret finally took him all the way to the root, tugging lightly on his balls, Martin threw back his head and cried out his name, panting and clutching at his hair.
Hot, heavenly mouth dragged up Martin’s shaft, the fist rolling with it. When he began to suckle his crown, tingles of pleasure traveled out from Martin’s spine like drops of dye spreading across fabric. He trembled once, fighting off release as Garret’s confident handling led him closer to the edge.
“Put a finger up his ass,” a voice instructed.
Martin squeezed his eyes tighter, willing it to be just the two of them. But the stranger had spoken his greatest need. Good God, Martin wanted Garret inside his body—had from the first time the man kissed him.
When his lover tapped his inner thighs it didn’t surprise him. He spread himself, not because of how much he craved it, but because Garret told him to.
Reaching below his sack, Garret gently pressed his fingers between his balls, stroking the sensitive place where his hard shaft went under the skin. As he rubbed him, a burning compulsion consumed Martin, and he widened his stance, granting Garret unlimited access. Knuckles rolled into his taint, stimulating him and making him moan. Martin hissed when the fingers, finally—thank God!—found their way to his needy hole.
Garret pulled his mouth off his cock, still teasing his entrance. Smiling up at him, and stroking his abdomen, he asked in a seductive whisper, “Like that, baby?”
The sight of his beautiful face in the moonlight, the tender affection in his eyes, made Martin tremble with need. He nodded and spread his legs even wider. There were no inhibitions anymore. He belonged to Garret.
Maybe he always had.
Garret sucked a finger into his mouth before he wrapped his lips over his teeth and took him all the way down in one confident swallow. Martin screamed in rapture. The cheers of strangers echoed over the pounding of his pulse in his ears and the crash of the nearby sea. He didn’t have time to be embarrassed because Garret had slid his finger past his barrier, the flesh aching, needing more.
“Oh, Garret,” he murmured.
His answer was a groan. He dragged his tongue hard up his shaft, holding his base firm, his finger pushing into him, so close to his spot.
“Aye, that’s it,” Martin pleaded, gripping his hair, thrusting and pushing down. “So verra close.”
The more he allowed his lilt to slip, the more enthusiasm Garret showed, and the louder their audience became. He had never felt more powerful, wild, or sexy. The ocean waves crashed in chorus with the spectators calling out encouragement and approval.
But he didn’t care about them anymore.
He only wanted them to know he belonged to Garret.
Despite the cheers, the instructions, Garret’s touch kept him centered on the two of them, the warmth of his mouth, the finger teasing his prostate. Drained of strength, Martin’s knees buckled and his hips thrust. Then, blessedly, with a final twitch, he careened into the finish.
“Garret!” he screamed, and in one mindboggling eruption, hot lust spilled from his body. Garret took it all, drawing out every last drop, working his finger deeper into his ass, pumping his cock. Thunder pounded in Martin’s ears and fire flashed under his skin as he experienced the most intense orgasm of his life.
Head spinning, blood pulsing hot, he tried to catch his breath, stroking Garret’s hair in thanks. With blurred vision, he watched Garret retrieve his hat from the ground then stand, pulling his glasses out from his shirt-collar and slipping them on before drawing him into a kiss. Martin pressed closer, wanting to taste the salty, decadent residue of cum on his lips. The rough denim against his spent, exposed cock and the soft cotton of T-shirt against his bare chest made him moan.
“You did good, Marty.”
His praise was better than coming.
“That was hot!” a voice called out, startling Martin out of his afterglow.
“Nice one!”
“Go on, blondie, suck him next!” another called, eliciting a chorus of cheers and applause.
Mortified, now that normal thoughts once more held sway over his mind, Martin buried a self-conscious chuckle into Garret’s shoulder. “Bloody hell, I can’t believe we just did that, right?”
Garret reached between them and tucked Martin’s cock away, zipping him up in a loving, yet oddly paternal way. “C’mon.”
More than happy to let Garret drag him off into the night, leaving the laughter and voyeuristic voices to fade into the darkness, Martin held tight to Garret’s hand. They raced, laughing like naughty teenagers, to the Jeep parked in the lot.
Once they reached the vehicle, Garret pressed him into the side of it and kissed him again. Like he was walking in a dream or drunk or both, he followed Garret’s lead. They linked hands, pushing and pulling with their palms, all the while their lips never venturing far.
Garret’s erection pressed against his and Martin hip-bumped him. “Should I return the favor?”
“Nope. We’re going back to my place and I’m going to fuck your freckled ass on the beach.”
He let out a breathless giggle of anticipation. “Um…right. Okay.”
Chapter Six
“Where are we going, sir?”
One hand gripping a picnic basket, the other holding Marty’s hand, Garret led his curious new lover down to the shoreline outside the beach house he’d rented, the waves and night
insects their only companions. “I already told you.”
Marty let out a chuckle. “Well, yes, I thought you were joshing about the beach part.”
“You don’t know me very well yet.”
If blushing made a sound, Marty’s face would sing. He could almost hear his cheeks reddening in his voice. “Right, I suppose not.”
Garret could stop to reassure him, but while his voice had faltered, his steps showed no sign of hesitation, nor had his grip loosened. In fact, he had remained ratcheted to his side since they’d left the hotel, which pleased Garret immensely.
“Here’s the spot.” The pristine white patch of sand, hidden from the other beach houses by tall grasses and an outcropping of beach rock, glowed in the darkness. A soft breeze brought the faraway noises of the main resort and rustled the nearby palms.
“It’s brilliant.” Marty sighed, staring at the sea bathed in the rich navy of night, moonlight frolicking like liquid silver on the waves.
After spreading out a blanket, Garret removed his T-shirt and tossed it near the basket. Sensing Marty’s hungry gaze on him, he sat, patting the place next to him.
Obediently, Marty stretched out, propping up on one elbow to face him with a cocksure smile. “So what’re yer intentions, laddie?”
Garret threw back his head and laughed. They both knew who ran the show, but it hadn’t taken Marty long to realize how weak in the knees that accent made him. Sitting cross-legged, he soaked in the long body stretched out beside him, shirt still undone, showing off the sprinkling of chest hairs on his sculpted torso. And those damn, adorable freckles.
A shiver of happiness and voracious need went through him and he longed to tear Marty’s clothes off, tie him up then fuck him hard. But Marty wasn’t ready. Oh, he wanted it, Garret would bet money on it, but they would have to build up to that sort of play.
In the basket he’d ordered from the hotel after his last minute change of plans, Garret found a six-pack of Belhaven, some cheeses, crackers and—he grinned—plenty of lube and condoms.
Well, 1Night Stand is clever.
Accidentally Beautiful Page 4