Caught on Camera: Part Two (7 page)
Eventually he paused for air and smiled down at me properly. “That hasn’t even begun to take the edge off my needs but it’ll do for now.” He stroked his hand down my back to my arse and squeezed my buttocks through my trousers in an unabashed grope and a serious act of possession.
A quiver attacked my arsehole, my bollocks tingled in a heavy, hot way and my dick surged to attention.
“Ah, you two are so good together,” Slider said, also dropping his bag. “You’re a lucky man, Jack.”
He stepped up to us, slapped his hand on Jack’s shoulder and stared down at me.
Despite my shock at the sudden turn of events, I studied Slider’s eyes.
There was something I hadn’t seen there before. Not that we’d had lots of contact in the past, but still, there was something new—a certainty, a contentment, a trust.
And maybe even…desire…
“I know I’m lucky,” Jack said. “And whenever I face my maker, I ask to be spared so I can spend my life taking care of Ken.”
It was an unusually romantic thing for Jack to say, which could only mean one thing. Whatever it was he’d been doing had been damn dangerous. He rarely told me anything about his missions—they were classified, top-secret—but he couldn’t censor what he said in his sleep and murmurs of desert rats, infested jungles, enemies crawling nearer and shouts of warning stayed with me long after they’d been uttered. The images then sat heavy in my imagination, and stole my thoughts in the dead of the night when he was away.
“I’m glad you’re both back safe,” I said, glancing between the two hot, but now that I looked, weary soldiers standing before me. “Come, let’s eat.”
‘I’ll go wash up,” Jack said, finally releasing my arse with a playful pat. “Slider, you can use the bathroom through there.” He indicated the downstairs washroom then reached for his bag and banged up the stairs.
Slider didn’t move. Instead, he looked at me intently then let his gaze roam my body, slowly, deliberately, toes to face, in a way he never had before.
Butterflies tickled my insides. My cock refused to behave and was still surging up against my boxers—I was sure the outline would be visible.
I’d been gay all of my life, never been any other way, and I was pretty damn sure that Slider was giving me the look of a man who wanted to peel my clothes off, bend me over and ram his dick where the sun doesn’t shine.
A tickle of lust rushed over my scalp and down my spine.
I wouldn’t fucking complain if he did. The guy was hot, but…he wasn’t gay.
Was he?
About the Author
Lily Harlem lives in the UK with a workaholic hunk and a crazy cat. With a desk overlooking rolling hills her over active imagination has been allowed to run wild and free and she revels in using the written word as an outlet for her creativity.
Lily’s stories are made up of colorful characters exploring their sexuality and sensuality in a safe, consensual way. With the bedroom door left wide open the reader can hang on for the ride and Lily hopes by reading sensual romance people will be brave enough to try something new themselves–after all, life’s too short to be anything other than fully satisfied.
Email:
[email protected]
Lily loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at
http://www.totallybound.com
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Also by Lily Harlem
Treble: Orchestrating Maneuvers
Stand to Attention: Who Dares Wins
Christmas Crackers: Candy Canes and Coal Dust
Bollywood: The Unwholesome Adventures of Harita
Totally Bound Publishing
