For a moment, we locked eyes, and the air between us crackled with the promise of what could come next if we let it. I didn’t breathe—didn’t move—because this rubber band tugging at us could snap any minute, and I had no idea which way it would go.
Thad’s jaw clenched, then his hand shot out and gripped the side of my head. I sucked in a breath as he pulled me toward him. The heat of his palm seared my scalp as he closed the distance until our mouths were inches away. The tent was filled with panted breaths, pounding hearts, and every cell in my body was screaming want want want.
But I didn’t care about any of that, because Thad was devouring me. His mouth moved against mine, opening me up, demanding to be let in, and I obliged. Thad swept his tongue inside, kissing me like he couldn’t get enough, would never get enough, like kissing me was better than breathing.
Kissing Thad was better than breathing.
I held on as best as I could, clutching his broad shoulders, the muscles shifting beneath his skin. With his knees, he spread my legs and slotted himself between them, grinding his hard cock against mine.
It was a frenzy of tongues and lips and saliva and good, hard, need-you-now kind of sex. Thad broke the kiss to suck hard on the skin along my jaw, and I arched beneath him as he hit the spot below my ear that always got me going.
My cock was achingly hard, my balls already drawn up tight, but I needed something more. Thad’s hands fumbled between us until my boxers were shoved down. A fist wrapped around both of our cocks and began stroking them together.
My brain short-circuited, my lungs screamed for air as I gasped at the firm grip. Thad wasn’t fucking around. This was down and dirty and about getting off on each other.
My hips churned with each stroke of Thad’s hand; his hip bones dug into my inner thighs as each stroke shoved my legs further apart. I had no time to imagine what we looked like, what we sounded like, because Thad bit down on my shoulder, hard, and I came like a fucking rocket. I couldn’t even cry out, as I pulsed soundlessly in his hand. His hips froze on one more powerful thrust, sending my head smashing into the side of the tent, and then he let out one small groan against my skin.
I squeezed my eyes shut, relinquishing my grip on Thad’s shoulders, belatedly noticing my nails had etched crescent-shaped marks in his flesh.
He rose off of me slowly, his eyes skittering away, not meeting mine. He grabbed my pack of wipes, and cleaned himself, then me, wordlessly. I bit my lip, unsure what to say. What did one say when they were dry-humped in the middle of the night by a man who spoke in sentence fragments?
Nothing apparently. Because Thad rose, pulled on a pair of pants and a shirt, and with one last look at me, left the tent.
Without a word.