Twenty Times Tempted: A Sexy Contemporary Romance Collection

by Petrova, Em

  He’d hardly realised he was doing it, but a long, drawn out groan had accompanied his entry, and now he punctuated it with a “Fuuuck!” Despite his preparations, Balkhi’s arse still gripped him incredibly tightly, the most perfect vice around his cock.

  “Wow,” Balkhi responded, his voice husky. “That already feels incredible. I cannot wait to come again, with you inside me.”

  The sexy words, spoken in such an exotic accent, simply served to add fuel to Wilkes’ already raging fire. It burned from his head to his toes, with an extra, all-consuming white hot sensation taking over his cock. And he’d barely begun.

  Unable to stop the wide grin that took over his face, he shifted his hands and knees a little, getting into the best possible position to fuck his lover—and himself—into oblivion. As he began thrusting, he quickly came to the conclusion he’d have to take it easy if he didn’t want it to all be over too soon.

  Already his senses were going into overdrive. There was just so much stimulation: the sight of Balkhi spread before him; his gorgeous face, a sheen of sweat covering his skin, his erect cock, the purple head clearly visible, a bead of pre-cum sitting at its tip. The sounds; heavy, erratic breathing, whimpers, groans, skin slapping against skin, exhaled expletives. The scent of fresh sweat, of musk, purely and divinely male, with just the slightest touch of deodorant and shower gel. Taste didn’t come into it right now, but had he been a contortionist, Wilkes would have bent and taken Balkhi’s rigid cock between his lips and sucked him dry even as he fucked him. And as for touch, for feel, it was the most decadent, powerful sense of all—the slick glide of damp skin, the gentle scrape of body hair, the tight, grasping, greedy arsehole that gobbled him up over and over.

  Wilkes couldn’t remember ever having sex like it—not even with Balkhi. Probably because with the two of them, there’d never been time to wallow in the pleasure.

  And wallow he did. He increased his pace slowly but surely, frequently having to get a hold of himself to stop him hitting his peak too soon. He wanted to come, so badly, and inside this delectable man. But not just yet. He could hold on a little longer. Hopefully.

  But his self-control wasn’t infinite, and as the faster, rougher thrusts had Balkhi crying out and asking for more, Wilkes experienced the telltale signs that his own climax was imminent. He’d wanted to toss Balkhi off as he fucked him, but he needed both hands braced on the bed to help him keep his current rhythm, so he decided on the next best thing.

  “Rustam,” he said urgently, “touch yourself for me. I’m very close to coming, and I’d like to see you come again, too. See your hand fisting your fucking gorgeous cock, squeezing and stroking it until you explode over your chest and stomach.”

  He didn’t know where most of that little speech had come from. He’d never been much of a dirty talker—he’d never really tried—but then perhaps Balkhi had brought it out in him. God knows he’d begun to change him in ways he hadn’t even considered.

  “Yesss,” Balkhi hissed, doing as he’d been commanded, his long brown fingers curling around his shaft and pumping, tugging it closer and closer to climax.

  Their groans, grunts and expletives—both English and Pashto—grew more frequent, louder and increasingly abandoned as they lost themselves in pleasure. Soon, every last bit of Wilkes’ self-control had ebbed away. His balls boiled, drawing up towards his body. “Rustam...”

  “Let go, Hugh. It is okay. I will follow.”

  Gratefully—as he’d have been unable to do anything else—Wilkes gave in to the orgasm, crying out as what felt like molten lava exploded from his balls, zipped along his shaft and spilled from his tip, filling the condom. Vaguely, he was aware that Balkhi was coming, too, his cock jerking and spurting, cum hitting his abdomen in thick globs.

  “God, I love you, Rustam,” he said on a gasp, as tingles erupted through his entire being and his heart pounded fiercely against his rib cage.

  “I love you, too, Hugh,” came the reply, and it was only then that Wilkes truly realised what he’d said. The words had spilled forth in the heat of the moment, but it didn’t matter, because he meant them. He loved his exotic, gorgeous, smart, funny, brave boyfriend and had done for some time. But although they’d flirted with the sentiment, they hadn’t actually voiced it, until now. And it felt fantastic.

  “Good,” Wilkes replied, another grin taking over his face. As his climax waned and his body fought to get back to normal, joy filled his heart, and not just from the endorphins. He was a man in love. Their road so far hadn’t been easy, and it wasn’t about to simplify overnight. The challenges they faced now were different, and although he hadn’t really had time to consider them, he was fairly confident that they could weather any storm. At least they weren’t in mortal danger any more, running the risk of IEDs and suicide bombers. They were just two young men, happy and in love.

  Leaning down, he pressed a brief kiss to Balkhi’s lips, then whispered, “Where’s your bathroom?”

  When he returned, having disposed of the condom and cleaned up a little, Balkhi had settled down beneath the duvet. He held it up for Wilkes to join him, which he did gladly. Another first—one so many people probably took for granted. Though he supposed, technically, they had slept together, that one time at Camp Bastion, but they certainly hadn’t had the opportunity to relax and snuggle up together beneath the sheets. They’d been squashed together on a single bed.

  Wilkes resolved to try hard not to take any of their time together for granted. They’d damn well earned it.

  Pulling Balkhi into an embrace, he kissed his dark hair and said, “I could get used to this.”

  “What, having sex?”

  Wilkes shook his head, smiling. “No. Well, yes, but I actually meant this part. Just being together, relaxing. Spending time together without having to sneak around or hide how we feel about each other.”

  “Yes, I know what you mean. Here, we can be ourselves, and nobody cares. But it is still going to be tough, in a different way. I must adjust to being back in England, as must you. Though of course you may be deployed again at any time. We must also get used to being apart for such lengths of time—having been so used to seeing each other almost constantly. It will be a...” he cast about for the phrase, “...learning curve. And, although I know this will make you uncomfortable, you should consider whether you are going to tell your family, friends and colleagues. As much as I am happy for you to be here, with me, it is unfair for you to travel to see me all of the time. I would like to come and see you, too, if that is possible.”

  Wilkes blew out a heavy breath. “I know, Rustam. Trust me, I know I have a lot to think about, to figure out. But just grant me one thing?”

  “What is it?”

  “Let’s just have this weekend together without worrying about anything. Let’s just be together, have fun, enjoy ourselves and relax.”

  Balkhi craned his neck to look at Wilkes. He smiled. “Okay, that sounds like a good plan. Shall we start with that cup of tea?”

  “It’s like you read my bloody mind.”

  Chapter Five

  As he showered, Wilkes thought about the conversation he and Balkhi had had. A lot of difficult points had been raised, and Wilkes knew he’d have to hurry up and start figuring things out. Balkhi wouldn’t pressure him for any decisions, he knew, but he wanted to move things along for his own sake as much as Balkhi’s.

  They’d played a very dangerous game out in the desert, but in a way, deep down it had suited Wilkes. It had been tricky, sure, but not nearly as tricky as potentially turning his life, and his relationships with the people he cared about, upside down by coming out.

  He’d never seen much point in the past—having no boyfriend to introduce or talk about. But now, everything had changed. Balkhi was in his life, hopefully to stay, and he certainly didn’t deserve to be hidden away like some dirty little secret. Wilkes himself had no wish to live a double life, either—with everything remaining the same at work and back home in Wol
verhampton, while he scurried off to London as often as possible to be with the lover nobody knew about.

  No, that definitely wasn’t good enough. He’d start making steps in the direction of coming out. Careful, deliberate steps, but steps nonetheless. Perhaps he’d start with his siblings, and possibly his parents. He knew they’d support him no matter what.

  For now, though, he’d show Balkhi a damn good time while he was here. They’d go out somewhere, as a couple, which would be a new experience for both of them. Sort of a taster session in being gay in public.

  Wilkes shook his head. The more he thought about it, the more he figured that the two of them probably wouldn’t garner a second glance. He had more hang-ups about this than the cosmopolitan types that lived in London. They likely saw it all the time.

  Just to be sure, he’d take Balkhi to Soho. They could get used to being in each other’s company in an environment that had a positive attitude towards gay men and women. That would give them one less thing to worry about.

  That decided, he finished showering, dried off, wrapped the towel around his waist and left the bathroom.

  He found Balkhi in the bedroom putting some laundry away. “Hey, I’m done. It’s all yours.”

  Balkhi turned to him with a smile, which widened when he raked his gaze down Wilkes’ half-naked body. “Okay... are you sure you do not want to join me and get even cleaner?”

  Wilkes grinned. “I’d absolutely love to join you, but I know damn well we won’t get any cleaner if we get in that shower together. I’ll take a rain check on that one, all right?”

  “That means later, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Wilkes shook his head in wonder—it’d take him a while to get used to Balkhi’s exceptional grip of English slang. He often forgot this wasn’t his first time living in London, too. He took a deep breath, attempting to tamp down the mild arousal that was flickering in his stomach. They’d never make it past the front door if they got naked together again. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking. Do you want to go out for a bit? Grab something to eat, and have a couple of drinks? It’s not too late, is it?”

  Balkhi glanced at the clock on the wall. “No, not really. It is almost nine o’clock. If I am quick, we should be able to find somewhere still serving food.”

  “I thought we could head to the Soho area—that’s open pretty late, I think.”

  Raising his eyebrows, Balkhi replied, “Um, okay. That is the gay area, isn’t it?”

  Wilkes nodded. “Are you okay with that? I just thought it’d be good for us to get out there as a couple, which is going to be a little strange for both of us, in a place where nobody will care.”

  It was Balkhi’s turn to nod. “It is an excellent idea. But I do not know about it being open late, I have never been there. Last time I was in London I did not really do that much exploring. And the places I did go to were the more popular tourist attractions.”

  “Well then,” Wilkes smiled, “that’s perfect. We can be tourists together. Go get showered, I’m starving.”

  A glint in his eye, Balkhi shot back, “You are also still half-naked.”

  Wilkes looked down. “So I am. I suppose I’d better get dressed, then. Soho’s used to gay people, but probably not ones dressed in only a towel!”

  Balkhi crossed the room, heading for the door. As they drew level, Wilkes had an urge to playfully swat Balkhi’s arse as he passed him by—but something stopped him, and then the opportunity was gone as Balkhi left the room.

  Frowning, Wilkes retrieved his holdall and removed some clean underwear and clothes, dropping them on the bed. Why did he feel he couldn’t entirely let go with Balkhi? They’d spent a ridiculous amount of time together—albeit not over the past few weeks—getting to know each other, working together, having sex...

  Suddenly, as he applied his deodorant, it struck him. That was it. The reason the pair of them seemed to have two settings—awkwardness and hot sweaty sex—was because that was what they’d become accustomed to. In Afghanistan, they were either working or fucking, with very little in between. When they were working they’d been all business, petrified of someone noticing something a little off in their manner, their body language. When they were fucking... well... they were fucking, in complete and utter secrecy.

  And now, out of that environment, with no one watching or caring at all, they were struggling to shake off those deeply ingrained habits.

  Wilkes dressed, put on some cologne and slipped his wallet into his jeans pocket. He was ready to go. Heading into the living room, he sat down and continued mulling over the problem. It wouldn’t be an easy fix, he knew. They couldn’t just flip a switch and suddenly morph into this couple that were utterly at ease with each other, both in public and in private. But, he consoled himself, at least it wasn’t just him—he could tell Balkhi noticed the awkwardness, too. He’d bring it up before they went out and make sure they were on the same page. Hopefully then they could start making some of those careful, deliberate steps together.

  He heard the bathroom door opening and figured he’d speak to Balkhi while he was getting ready, to save a little time. The last thing they wanted was to get to Soho and find out the only food available was fast food. McDonald’s had a time and a place, and it was not tonight.

  Walking back into the bedroom, he found Balkhi in the same state he’d been in when Balkhi left—mostly naked, with a towel wrapped around his waist. Torn between drooling and averting his eyes, Wilkes smiled tightly and said, “I’m really not good at this stuff, Rustam, so I’m just going to come out with it. Please carry on getting ready—I’ll probably find it easier if I just talk without you looking at me expectantly.”

  “All right.” Balkhi looked a little concerned, but carried on drying off.

  “I can’t help noticing that we’re, um, both struggling to adjust. We’ve been so used to being in Afghanistan, where we’ve had to be completely professional in front of other people for fear of them finding out about us, that we’re finding it hard to let go of that. I just wanted to throw that out there and let you know that I’d really like to work on it. I know it’ll take time, but I love you and I really want things to work out between us.”

  By the time he’d finished saying all that, Balkhi was mostly dressed—underwear, socks, jeans. “May I look at you now, Hugh?” His tone was gentle.

  “Y—yes. I’ve said the hardest part.”

  Balkhi met his gaze, and Wilkes already felt better. What he saw in Balkhi’s brown eyes was understanding, sympathy, agreement. Relief.

  Crossing the room, Balkhi stood in front of Wilkes and took his hands. “That must have been hard, but I am glad you said it. Everything you said was absolutely right, and I feel the same. About all of it... especially the last part. I love you, too.” Tugging Wilkes closer, Balkhi met his lips in a sweet kiss that ramped the mild arousal up several notches.

  Kissing Balkhi back, Wilkes allowed himself to enjoy it for a minute or two, before pulling back. “As much as I like, no, love, where that’s going, I think we should stop. Because otherwise we’ll never make it to Soho.” He winked, making his meaning perfectly clear.

  Heat burning in his chocolate eyes, Balkhi moved away and retrieved the shirt he’d placed on the bed. “Absolutely right again, Hugh. We will take a rain check. First, go out, eat, drink. Try and relax.”

  A few minutes later they were headed for the Tube station. As they walked in, Wilkes looked around for the ticket machine.

  “Hey, wait,” Balkhi said, pulling something from his pocket and handing it to Wilkes. An Oyster card. “Do not buy a ticket—put some money on this instead.” He waved a second Oyster card at him. “I have two. I thought I had lost my original one I had from when I was here before. Typically, once I had bought a new one and put money on it, I found my old one. But I do not know how much is on it, if anything.”

  Wilkes looked the card, noting that, luckily, it had a different coloured cover than the one Balkhi held, so they’d be abl
e to tell which was which. “Great, thanks. I haven’t got a bloody clue what I’m doing with it, though.”

  “Come on,” Balkhi led him over to one of the machines dotted around the station. “It is easy.”

  Moments later, Oyster fully loaded up, Wilkes swiped his way through the barrier and followed Balkhi over to the Tube map. “Umm... do you know how to get there?” Shit. Why hadn’t he thought of that before they’d left the flat? They could have looked online.

  Balkhi, apparently unruffled, pulled his phone from his pocket and began tapping away. Shortly, he said, “Oh, that is easy.” He pointed to the map. “We just go straight up on this line and get off at Leicester Square. We should be able to find it from there.”

  “You make it sound so simple,” Wilkes replied, shaking his head. How did this gorgeous man who’d come from such a different culture figure all this stuff out quicker than him?

  Balkhi shrugged as he headed off towards the escalator, Wilkes in tow. “Another of your wonderful phrases I picked up—sink or swim.”

  Wilkes couldn’t argue with that logic.

  Chapter Six

  Emerging from Leicester Square Tube station, Wilkes and Balkhi looked around at the crowds buzzing around before turning to each other. “Um... map?” Wilkes asked.

  Balkhi replied, “They have street maps around—let’s find one.”

  Fortunately, it didn’t take them too long to locate one, and they peered at the diagram for a minute or so before Wilkes’ navigation training kicked in. He might not have any skill with Tube maps, but the regular kind he could handle. “All right, this looks the easiest way... follow this road, past Shaftesbury Avenue, then make a left. That should take us right into the heart of Soho.”

  Nodding, Balkhi replied, “Okay, let’s go.”

  They walked, side by side, along Charing Cross Road, taking in the sights and sounds—the people, the bookshops, the cafes, the theatres, the pubs. Wilkes found himself relaxing already—there were people from all walks of life milling around, and what’s more, they were all utterly wrapped up in their own affairs. They had places to be, things to see, things to do. Nobody gave even the tiniest shit what the dark-haired white bloke and his Middle Eastern friend were up to.