“PLEASE don’t.” Drew was stuck, chest fetched hard against the window of the SUV, hands up in the air holding the surfboard Garrett was supposed to be tying down. If he let go, the ropes and board would come down on his head.
Garrett was behind him, pressed against his back, his gloating snicker saying he knew full well Drew couldn’t move.
“Please don’t what?” Garrett asked, his voice a purring whisper in Drew’s ear. He slid warm, callused hands into Drew’s swimsuit, palms flat against his ass cheeks. Garrett’s fingers curled, gripped, and parted, stretching the short shorts tight against Drew’s groin and digging the hem into his hips.
“Don’t take them off,” Drew whispered, face pressed to his own bicep as though he could hide the shame there.
Garrett pushed. Shorts and hands slid down Drew’s legs. The added friction on Drew’s cock was enough and it began to fill. He groaned.
“Please don’t, Sir.” A sharp slap on his ass accompanied the last word.
Drew yelped, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing himself. Garrett liked symmetry, and sure enough a second slap set the other cheek flaming too. “Please don’t, Sir,” Drew panted, shoving the words out quickly before breathlessness stole them altogether and earned him a real spanking.
“Well. They’re off now,” Garrett pointed out. His hands flowed up Drew’s sides, curved around his ribcage and up his chest. He held his breath as Garrett’s fingers glided over his nipples, swirled, tweaked, pinched. They yanked a breathy groan from Drew’s chest. Garrett pressed his hips forward, mashing Drew’s bare cock against the warm metal of the van. Nimbly, he lifted a foot, snagged Drew’s shorts with a toe, and hauled them the rest of the way to his ankles. “Spread.”
“No—” Drew bit his lower lip hard, too late to stop the protest.
Pain flared through his nipples again, firing up his nerves, sizzling down his spine and tightening his belly.
“Not here.” He barely breathed the words, not sure if he was saying them in real protest or in anticipation of more punishment. Either way, the nervous excitement had an unbreakable hold on him. He was already losing himself to the implacable will of his new Master and they had yet to make anything official.
“Wherever I say,” Garrett said sternly. He backed off just enough to kick Drew’s feet apart in the loose sand. His hands explored over Drew’s back, over his ass, and fingers slid between his cheeks, prodding just enough to make Drew tilt his hips into the touch, then moving on, eliciting a frustrated moan Drew couldn’t hold back “Whenever I say,” Garrett said, moving away completely.
Drew wobbled at the sudden lack of support from behind. The board above rocked precariously.
“Don’t drop it!” Garrett’s sharp command cut through him, bouncing off the car and disappearing down the deserted beach, lost under the cry of gulls.
Drew shifted his grip to a more stable position. “Yes, Sir.” Still his voice was breathy, raspy and indistinct. He tried to clear his throat. “I won’t, Sir.” Every inch of exposed skin tingled, tiny patches of excitement that lit him up, burned through his skin to heat him inside. The warm sun on his back and buttocks made him sweat. It trickled down his spine, between his cheeks, down his sides from his pits. It made his front slippery against the heated side of the vehicle. He felt foolish, exposed, and vulnerable. And slutty, completely fuckable, and knowing Garrett wanted him this bad made him feel ten feet tall. He waited.