Sunday Snog from Quarantine - and a Giveaway!

It's Sunday again, and I'm celebrating my Rainbow Awards honorable mention some intense orality from Quarantine. Furthermore, I'm giving away a print copy of the book. All you have to do is comment!

Don't forget to visit Snog Central over at Victoria's where I suspect she has lots of holiday magic brewing, and links to many more luscious lip locks!

 

A rickety staircase led to the basement. Here, in a tiled maze of passages, the sex was far more public. One man pinned his partner to the wall, wrists captured overhead, jerking himself off while plundering his companion’s mouth. Another couple, one man deeply tanned, the other pale, writhed on a bench in one of the alcoves, hips pumping in synchrony. Further down, they encountered two burly biker types sharing a slight, bookish-looking man with a dark ponytail. Their victim bent over a stool, with one cock buried in his ass and another in his drooling mouth. Bold tattoos rippled over the bikers’ muscular backs as they pounded into him. The bliss on the younger man’s face made it clear that he was a willing participant in this scene.

Dylan glanced at Rafe, checking his reaction to this raunchiness. The black man’s full lips were parted in a pant. His eyes simmered with lust. His erection distorted the towel, a wet spot growing at the tip. Grinning, Dylan unknotted his own towel and swung it around his neck. His cock arched towards the ceiling, eager for action.

He caught and held Rafe’s eyes. Don’t be afraid, he broadcast to his lover. I’m here. The other man seemed to get the message. Slowly, without breaking the visual connection, he unwrapped his hips and set his massive erection free.

Dylan was suddenly dizzy with need. He sank to his knees, mouth open to receive the glorious hardness waving in front of his face. Rafe, however, pulled him back to his feet.

“Not here,” he said. He half-dragged Dylan through an open doorway into a vast, empty room that smelled faintly of chlorine. The rectangular depression in the centre was an old swimming pool, empty now save for an algae-scummed puddle at the deep end. Rafe settled on the ledge that ran along the wall and spread his legs wide. His dick reared up like a snake, the single eye charming Dylan into a motionless trance.

“Suck me,” Rafe commanded. Dylan didn’t need a second invitation. In two seconds, he was kneeling between those corded thighs.

Ignoring the chill, slimy tile under his knees, he leaned forward and swallowed Rafe to the very root. He buried his nose in Rafe’s wiry pubes. The rich man-musk drowned out the smells of mould and rotting wood. The spongy knob prodded his palate. He drew back, sucking hard and wringing a groan of appreciation from Rafe. “Your mouth is so damn hot,” the black man moaned as Dylan slithered his tongue along the silky shaft, then engulfed it once more. “Oh, God! Yes!”

Usually Rafe took control, fucking Dylan’s mouth with the same ferocity he lavished on his ass. This time, though, he let Dylan do the work of pleasing him. Dylan played with the fat log of flesh, alternating between teasing his lover and devouring him. He pursed his lips over the bulb, tongued the weeping slit, flicked at the sensitive frenulum, until Rafe was begging for more. Then he plunged down, turning on the suction, immersing his lover in wet heat.

Finally, Rafe couldn’t hold back. He seized Dylan’s head, holding him fast. His blunt fingers clutched handfuls of Dylan’s hair as he drove his cock down the other man’s throat. The slight pain made Dylan’s own prick even harder. He relaxed, opening himself to everything Rafe gave him.

He forgot about the camp. He forgot about Hammer. He completely forgot where he was. Rafe was his only reality―hardness and heat filling his mouth, salt and bitterness on his tongue, ripe sweat in his nostrils, smooth ebony skin rippling in front of his half-closed eyes.

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