I shoved him. “Don’t fucking flatter yourself.”
He stumbled a few steps, nearly dropping his rod, his grin ear to ear.
“I just gave you what I know I like. Not exactly rocket science. We got the same shit going on down there.”
He quieted, and we both gazed out at the lake again.
“It was good, by the way.”
“The blow job?”
“No, dumbass. Your artwork on the cell walls. Of course the blow job.” He shoved me with a laugh, the same way I’d shoved him.
Only I wasn’t expecting it. I took a step sideways to right myself and put my foot down heavily, right on the edge of the bank.
There was no saving me.
My foot slipped off the edge, my ass crashed into the grass embankment, and I slid the rest of the way down the short drop into the waist-deep water.
Somehow, I managed to hold on to my rod.
Rowe stared at me with his mouth hanging open. Then he burst into laughter. “What the fuck just happened?”
I scowled at him. My shorts and underwear were soaked through, as was the bottom half of my shirt. “You shoved me in the fucking lake. What does it look like?”
“I barely touched you. If you’d wanted to go swimming, you should have just said the word.”
I passed him my rod and clambered out while he laughed his ass off.
“Oh, stop with the face, you grump. Laughing like this is killing my ribs.”
“Good. Hope it hurts.” Water sluiced from my body as I dragged myself out. The water wasn’t cold, but now my underwear and shorts were suctioned to me. It didn’t help my mood. I tugged at the fabric, trying to readjust everything so I could catch a damn fish.
We stood in silence, watching the sun sink lower, until those pinks and purples appeared. But I was uncomfortable. I alternated between pulling at my wet clothes and peering around, making sure no one had gotten lost on a walking trail. I was convinced someone would stumble across us and report me to America’s Most Wanted at any moment.
Rowe wound his line in and dropped it on the bank. “I’m done.”
“We haven’t caught anything.”
“That wasn’t the point.”
“Then what was?” That wasn’t how I rolled. When I went out fishing, I didn’t come back empty-handed.
“Take your shorts off.”
Heat flared low in my gut, and I nearly dropped my rod. “What for?”
“Because I brought you out here in the hopes of getting you to chill out, but it only seems to have succeeded in making you worse.” He stepped in closer, and that connection between us flared to life once more.
What the fuck was that? It had always been there. Something so electric I could shock myself with it.
I put the rod down slowly. We stood near eye to eye, with him only an inch or so shorter than I was. His eyes were so impossibly brown, his unbrushed hair an identical shade and tousled from hanging around the house for the past few days.
“What are we doing?” I mumbled.
He inched closer. “Stress relief.”
“Bullshit.” It was more than that, and we both knew it.
“You want to put a label on it then?” He was so damn close. Close enough for our breaths to mingle.
“No,” I huffed out.
“Good. Me neither.”
Both of us stood there, breaths ragged while the sun went down. Both of us waiting for the other to make a move.
I dropped my gaze to his lips. All I could think about was how he’d tasted. My dick twitched.
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “What do you want then?”
“Don’t fucking ask me that.”
“Already fucking did.”
I groaned, giving in and pressing against him. My erection thickened, straining beneath my damp underwear. I wanted him on his knees. I wanted to slam my dick hard into his wet mouth and feel the suck and draw of his lips. I wanted him to feel the way I’d felt when I’d done it to him.
I pulled the drawstring on my shorts, loosening the waistband so I could shove the soggy material down my legs. Warm night air wafted around my damp thighs, doing nothing to help my growing erection. I let out a ragged breath as he lifted up my T-shirt, and then when he was taking too long, I fisted the back of it with one hand, whipping it off.
He stared at me, a challenge in his eyes. I couldn’t wait to fuck the look right off his face. I moved in closer, so our lips barely brushed. I dragged my mouth along the stubble of his jaw, not caring that it scraped and poked at the sensitive skin of my lips and face.
Rowe’s head lolled back, his groan clear on the night air. “Tell me what you want.”
He asked for it. “I want to push you up against that tree and take you hard and fast from behind.”
Rowe’s hand dove into my underwear, circling his fingers around my erection and freeing it. He pumped me twice while I kissed his neck, sucking and biting, not caring if I left a mark. My boxers were shoved to the ground, and then my erection was between us. He worked me in long, slow strokes that instantly had precum beading at my tip. I ached to take him in the way I’d promised, ached to get inside him while I reached around and jerked his cock. But that couldn’t happen here. Instead, I demanded the next best thing. “Rowe?”
“Mmm.”
“Get on your knees.”
He was on the ground in an instant, his hot, wet mouth going straight to my cock. It was better than I could have imagined, especially good after the cool lake water. My fingers went straight for his hair, like they had a mind of their own. I clamped down tight, way rougher than I normally was, but Rowe encouraged it, gripping my thighs, then my balls, squeezing tight and bobbing his head to take as much of me into his mouth as he could.
I dropped my head back on my shoulders and stared at the stars creeping through the budding darkness. “Fuck, that feels good.”
He took everything I had to give, letting me thrust into his mouth without thought of being soft or gentle. My orgasm built low in my balls, teased thoroughly by Rowe’s fingers and tongue.