Twenty Times Tempted: A Sexy Contemporary Romance Collection

by Petrova, Em

  Wilkes grinned and licked his lips. This shower was going to be completely different. Now, they were doing nothing wrong, so there was no one to catch them, no danger or risk of any kind.

  Reaching for a bottle of shower gel from the shelf unit behind him, Wilkes flipped the lid and squeezed a big blob of the blue liquid into the palm of his hand.

  Putting the container back, he turned to Balkhi. “You,” he said, dipping a finger from his other hand into the goo and wiping it down Balkhi’s wet chest, “are filthy. You need cleaning up. And I’m just for the man for the job.”

  Stepping closer, he captured Balkhi’s lips in a kiss, before pulling away and whispering, “I’ve been wanting to do this for a Very. Long. Time.”

  With that, he lifted his hand and swiped the rest of the gel in a diagonal line across Balkhi’s chest and abdomen. Then he got to work.

  Chapter Eight

  Using both hands to slowly rub the body wash all over Balkhi’s chest and abdomen, Wilkes grinned to himself. The view was amazing—even more so now Balkhi’s skin was wet and glistening with soap. He could model for a swimwear catalogue or something; but Wilkes was glad he didn’t. He wanted Balkhi all to himself—not out there for others to ogle.

  Balkhi, for his part, had rested one hand on the tiled wall, the other hanging down by his side, and was apparently waiting to see what Wilkes had planned for him.

  Shifting his gaze to Balkhi’s, Wilkes winked. “All right?”

  “Ye-es,” came the hesitant reply. “I am very much enjoying what you are doing, as I am sure you can tell. But I cannot help wondering what you are going to do next.”

  “Well, you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”

  With a small smile, Balkhi inclined his head.

  Wilkes moved his attention lower down. Deliberately taking his time, he continued sweeping over Balkhi’s slick skin; dipping into his armpits and cleaning him there, his arms, his hands, his hips. Then, after squirting out some more gel, Wilkes knelt down in the tub and worked at Balkhi’s legs and feet—having purposely missed out his groin. He planned to save the best bit until last, and he had to exercise considerable willpower not to rush the rest so he could get to that best bit sooner.

  Urging Balkhi to turn around, Wilkes stood and started from the top again, washing the back of Balkhi’s neck, his broad, strong shoulders and muscular back, then finally, his luscious, biteable buttocks. The biting would have to wait until later, as Wilkes didn’t want a mouthful of shower gel, but he went to town on those mounds of firm flesh, treating them to something between a scrub and a massage, before dipping between them and exploring the dark crevice.

  Wilkes stroked Balkhi’s soft skin from the base of his spine, creeping lower until he reached his puckered arsehole. With a fingertip, he teased it, circling the sensitive skin with slippery fingers before pushing just the very tip inside.

  Balkhi moaned; a deep, guttural sound that made Wilkes’ cock ache. Christ, how he wanted to bend Balkhi over and fuck his tight arse until they both exploded. For now, though, he’d hold back, instead continuing to tease and tantalise Balkhi, truly living out his shower-time fantasy, one he’d wanted to live out ever since that first tempting glimpse at Camp Bastion all those months ago.

  Gripping Balkhi’s hips, Wilkes turned him back around, gratified to see the lust burning in his lover’s brown eyes. Unable to help himself, Wilkes leaned in and engaged Balkhi in a smouldering kiss, with tongues, teeth and lips clashing and caressing, fighting for dominance, giving and receiving intense pleasure even as hot water rained down on their entwined bodies. Their stiff cocks touched, lengths of hard, hot flesh, eager for blissful relief. But they would have to wait.

  Pulling away with a growl, Wilkes said, “Fucking hell, I want you. You’re so fucking hot.”

  Blinking rapidly, as if to clear away some of the lust that fogged his brain, Balkhi said, “Then have me.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I will. But I have something else in mind, first.”

  Raising his eyebrows, Balkhi waited expectantly. Wilkes responded by grabbing the shower gel for a third time. “Switch places with me.”

  That done, Wilkes groaned as the hot water pounded onto his back. Then, reaching around, he squirted some body wash between Balkhi’s arse cheeks, then deposited yet more into the palm of his left hand. Discarding the bottle, Wilkes positioned himself with his right hand ready to tease Balkhi’s arse again, and gripped Balkhi’s shaft in his gel-filled left hand.

  Shifting a little to make sure he could reach everything he wanted to, Wilkes rubbed the liberal amount of shower gel into Balkhi’s crack, getting plenty on his fingers, before slipping two inside his tight channel. Working carefully past the resistance, he began very slowly pumping in and out, deeply gratified by the sounds coming from Balkhi’s parted lips.

  Once he’d established a rhythm, he began moving the hand that grasped Balkhi’s cock, too. He finger-fucked and stroked Balkhi simultaneously, very much enjoying the reactions he got; moans, whimpers, muttered expletives, hands grabbing his shoulders, muscles tensed around his fingers, a still-swelling cock in his hand.

  For Wilkes, it was equally hot to be giving pleasure as it was to be receiving it, and his own dick twitched, leaking pre-cum as he drove Balkhi closer to orgasm. He was eager to see his lover climax; watch his face contort, hear the cries he made, see the rippling, twitching muscles, the leaping dick with spurts of cum jetting out. It was an incredibly powerful sensation, to give someone else ultimate pleasure, and it was heady, too.

  The anticipation continued to build in Wilkes’ mind as he played Balkhi’s body like the finest, most beautiful of instruments. His own chest heaved with his rapid breaths, and his blood boiled, his pulse pounding loudly in his ears. He craved release; but not until he’d granted Balkhi his. He sensed it wouldn’t be long.

  Gripping more tightly on Balkhi’s shaft, Wilkes tugged and stroked him faster, while curving the fingers on his right hand to try and reach Balkhi’s prostate gland. Finding the bump of tissue, he stimulated it while he picked up the pace of his left hand further still.

  Balkhi’s entire body stiffened—it didn’t look as though he’d be able to hold out for much longer. Delightedly, Wilkes carried on with what he was doing, eager to feel the heat and wetness of Balkhi’s cum hitting his own naked skin. Within seconds, he was rewarded.

  Shots of pain bloomed on Wilkes’ shoulders as Balkhi dug his fingertips into the flesh, the beginnings of his climax upon him. Then, throwing back his head and yelling at the ceiling, Balkhi toppled over the edge. His anus fluttered wildly and forcefully around Wilkes’ fingers, while his cock thickened and began twitching in his other hand. Warm, sticky fluid jetted out of its tip, landing on Wilkes’ still-hard shaft, pubic hair and lower abdomen.

  Slowing, but not stopping his movements, Wilkes waited for Balkhi to ride out his climax fully before disentangling from him. Several long moments passed as Balkhi got a hold of himself, pulling in several deep breaths and eventually opening sleepy-looking eyes to peer at Wilkes. He gave a sexy grin before saying, “You are amazing, Hugh. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Kissing Balkhi briefly as he pulled out and released him, Wilkes continued, “And that was amazing for me, as well.” He pointed down to the pearly liquid glistening on his skin and pubic hair. “Look what you did.”

  “I have claimed you,” Balkhi replied, his grin widening. “Now I will clean you up, as you cleaned me.”

  Before Wilkes could respond, Balkhi had dropped to his knees and begun licking and sucking up his own cum. Reaching down, he fisted his hands into Balkhi’s dark hair, keeping a modicum of control over proceedings. It was just as well, too, as when he’d swallowed the last droplet, he made to take Wilkes’ shaft into his mouth.

  “No,” Wilkes said, holding Balkhi’s head so he couldn’t achieve his goal. “Not this time. I haven’t quite finished my plans, yet.”

  “You haven’t?” Balkhi looked
surprised. “Well, then, I look forward to what you have in store for me next.”

  “Switch places with me again and rinse all the soap off, then go and wait in the bedroom for me. Get the lube and condoms. I won’t be long.”

  Nodding, Balkhi did as he was bidden, casting a longing look at Wilkes’ wet naked body before leaving.

  As quickly as he could, Wilkes washed and rinsed his entire body, turned off the shower and hurried to join his lover.

  He found Balkhi lying on the bed, a condom and the lube on the duvet beside him as requested. Clambering onto the mattress, he moved up beside Balkhi and drew him into another kiss, long, drawn out, and as full of needy passion as those they’d shared in the shower.

  When they eventually parted, gasping, Wilkes murmured, “Hands and knees, baby.”

  Wordlessly, Balkhi complied, and Wilkes moved into position behind him, his balls boiling and cock throbbing at the mere thought of what he was going to do next. Leaning down, he buried his face between Balkhi’s arse cheeks, his nostrils filled with the scent of squeaky clean skin and shower gel. Immediately, he sought the tight hole he’d been so recently playing with, and acquainted it with his tongue.

  The grasping, greedy little hole admitted his hot, wet flesh, and Wilkes let out a muffled moan as he tongue-fucked Balkhi’s arsehole.

  Balkhi’s reaction was much the same. Again he was grunting, groaning and swearing, and Wilkes could tell it was taking a great deal of restraint not to buck back against Wilkes’ questing tongue, urging him deeper. The organ had its limitations, unfortunately, but Wilkes still thoroughly enjoyed tasting his lover’s deepest, darkest, most forbidden place, his taste buds overwhelmed by the musk that was so utterly Balkhi that he felt he would be lost in aching lust forever. And he wouldn’t care if he was.

  He licked, tickled and thrust at Balkhi’s hole until his tongue and jaw ached, then he did it some more. Eventually, the ache turned into real discomfort, so he moved away, donned the condom, slicked some lube onto his throbbing shaft, and entered Balkhi once more. The stimulation had clearly paid off, as Balkhi was relaxed and accommodated him easily, and Wilkes was soon balls-deep inside him.

  Leaning over Balkhi’s back, he pressed kisses to his nape and shoulders, then nipped him a little with his teeth, gasping when Balkhi’s response was to tense the muscles inside his bottom, enveloping Wilkes’ dick in a vice-like grip.

  “You’ll fucking pay for that,” he growled, straightening up, putting his hands on Balkhi’s hips and beginning to pound his clenching rear hole until they were both making so much noise he was surprised the neighbours didn’t complain.

  Chapter Nine

  Wilkes’ journey back to base was nowhere near as joyful as the one into London. The roads were much quieter, but it’d take much more than that to pick up his mood. He wasn’t grumpy, exactly, but floated in some kind of weird melancholy-yet-happy place. The melancholy came from leaving Balkhi behind—albeit only until the following Friday—and the happy part stemmed from all the memories he’d made in the past couple of days. Balkhi’s handsome face, his gorgeous smile. Kissing, hugging, touching, fucking. Their time spent in Soho, their new friends... the list went on.

  Sighing, Wilkes knew he’d have to get used to this feeling. Their situation wasn’t ideal, but for someone in his line of work, it was to be expected. Even the straight guys with wives and girlfriends living on base had to leave them behind when they got sent on tours of duty. And god knows he’d seen enough of his colleagues and buddies dealing with the separation; not only from partners, but from children, too. He really needed to get a handle on it, and fast.

  Sure it was just stemming from the fact that they’d gone from seeing each other day in, day out for the best part of six months, Wilkes told himself it’d get easier. Like most difficult situations, time would heal all. It was tough shit, anyway. He had no choice in the matter, and besides, it wasn’t that much of a distance between them. Some of his friends and colleagues had families in Cumbria and Scotland, so London really wasn’t that big of a deal.

  Suddenly, the music pumping from his car’s speakers cut out. He frowned and glanced at the stereo display, wondering if there was a fault with it. But a second later, his phone’s ringtone started playing through the speakers, instead. People so rarely phoned him, much less when he was driving, that he’d forgotten the clever technology switched off the music when someone was calling.

  Home flashed up on the display. Smiling, he reached out and quickly pressed the answer button, then returned his attention to the road.

  “Hello, Mum,” he said, still smiling. He was glad she’d phoned—they didn’t speak often enough, really, and a chat with her would be the perfect thing to take his mind off Balkhi.

  “Hello, sweetheart. Are you okay to talk?” Joy Wilkes was the practical, polite type—always checking to make sure she wasn’t interrupting something when she phoned.

  “Yep. I’m just on the motorway. But I’m on hands-free, so don’t worry,” he added, knowing if she thought he was holding his mobile to his ear, she’d hang up immediately.

  “You promise?”

  “Yes, Mum, I promise. I have my phone set up now to automatically connect to the Bluetooth when I’m in the car, so anytime anyone phones me while I’m driving, it’s safe to talk because it’s all done through the stereo.”

  “Okay, good. So, how are you? And where are you going?”

  “I’m really good, thanks. I’m just on my way back to base. I’ve been in London for the weekend.”

  “Oh?” Just a single word, but it was laden with meaning, asking a dozen questions in two letters.

  Glad she couldn’t see him, Wilkes rolled his eyes. That was his own damn fault—his mother liked to know details, so telling her half a story would never wash. And the more evasive he was, the more she’d dig. So he could either flat-out lie, which he hated doing, especially to her, or he could get close to the truth without revealing everything. Not until he was ready, anyway. He certainly wasn’t about to come out to his mother on the telephone while he was on a bloody motorway.

  “Yep. I stayed with a friend.”

  “And does this friend have a name?”

  Swallowing, Wilkes hoped his tone remained even. “Yes, of course. His name is Rustam Balkhi. He’s sort of a colleague. Or he was, anyway. He was my interpreter on my last tour. He’s at medical school in London now.”

  “Oh, I see. And you’ve stayed in contact. That’s lovely. Have you been helping him to settle in?”

  In a manner of speaking, Mother, yes. We’re both struggling with being ‘out’ so we went to Soho together, met another couple of gay guys, we all went out to dinner together and exchanged stories. We’ve also been shagging like rabbits.

  Out loud, he replied, “Yes, sort of. He’s lived over here before. It’s kind of complicated so I’ll tell you when I see you. But we’ve been doing some touristy stuff together in the city. I never get time for that stuff if I’m ever there for work.”

  “No, I suppose not. Anyway, speaking of seeing me, that’s the main reason I phoned. Are you still coming home next weekend?”

  “Next weekend?” Shit. He’d arranged to see Balkhi again then.

  “Yes.” His mother’s tone became impatient. “It’s your father’s birthday, remember? We’re having all the family over.” She sighed. “Please, Hugh, tell me you’re still coming. You said you’d cleared the time off with your boss.”

  “I—I did. I mean, I have. Yes, of course I’m still coming. I’ve just lost track of time, that’s all. I didn’t realise what the date was. Crikey, that’s come around quick, hasn’t it? Where does the time go?” He forced a laugh. “Don’t suppose you’d buy him something nice from me, Mum, and I’ll give you the money next weekend? I thought I had more time, and I won’t be able to get into town this week to get him anything.”

  “Hmm... okay. Though you could have bought him something in London.”

  “I know, Mum. I’m
sorry. As I say, I lost track of the date, otherwise I definitely would have found him something cool in the city. Get yourself something nice, too?”

  “Are you trying to bribe me, sweetheart?” Despite her words, she sounded the tiniest bit mollified.

  “Maybe a little bit. But you’re so much better at buying and wrapping presents than me. And Dad’s such a nightmare to buy for!”

  “Wrapping presents? So I’m wrapping it now, too, am I?”

  If they’d been face to face, Wilkes would have cracked out his sweetest smile and puppy dog eyes, which pretty much always worked on his kind-hearted mother. As it was, he had to settle for a big grin, which he hoped would radiate down the phone. “Well... you wouldn’t want Dad accidentally stumbling across his present and ruining the surprise, would you? You know he looks for presents in the house—he’s like a big kid!”

  Laughing, Joy replied, “Yes, he is. But I’ve raised four children, remember? I, too, have evolved over the years, and have found the most successful hiding places.”

  “Where?”

  “I’m not going to tell you! You might tell your father, or your brothers and sister.”

  “Okay, fair enough. So...” He wheedled shamelessly now, knowing he’d almost worn her down. “Can I rely on you, Mum? Cool present, nicely wrapped?”

  “Buy him a nice, thoughtful card and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  “Deal.” A card he could do—supermarkets these days sold tons of the bloody things. He didn’t even have to venture into town to try and find one.

  “Good boy.”

  “Anyway, Mum, that’s enough about me and Dad. How are you?”