Desperate Lovers by Adam Carpenter (good beach reads TXT) 📕

“Please be careful.”

“What could happen?” Sawyer put the Porsche into gear and continued speeding along the high bluffs of the coastal highway.

It was 7:30 p.m. The call connected a disposable AT&T prepaid cell phone to another prepaid line carried by T-Mobile, ensuring that no one short of the U.S. Department of Defense would be able to recall a record of the conversation.

“I need you to head over to the house. Now! There have been more visitors today than during an election year. Something’s wrong.”

“Did you check the cameras?”

“Of course I checked! Seems my nephew has found them again.

I’m still getting audio, though. Not exactly sure what’s going on but he has someone over there. Sounds like they’re drinking and, well, I can only imagine what else. But he’s talking. Damn fool is going to ruin everything.”

“We’re on our way.”

“Don’t bother the boy. I’ll take care of him. Can you handle the

visitor?”

“Not to worry, sir.

“I mean handle this. Do we understand one another?”

“He won’t be bothering you again.”

The connection was broken. Both cell phones were promptly disposed of.

Dane paced the living room, watching out the window for the subject of his next film. God, he hoped this guy was, well, normal. He really wasn’t up to another Kyle Montana. When the phone rang, he assumed it was Dylan, calling to cancel. In a way, it would be a relief.

Dane didn’t think he was cut out for this end of the business. But when he answered the call, he was greeted by the coarse voice of a stranger that demanded to talk to Dane Walters.

“My name is Gerry Green. You left me a massage. What’s this got to do with George Saunders?”

George … Saunders? G&G was Gerald Green and George Saunders? Neighbors? Friends? Lovers?

That train of thought was interrupted by the doorbell.

“Mr. Green, I need to speak to you about something that’s happening on Eldon Court. It’s important. I think it has to do with Mr. Saunders. But I have an appointment right now. Can I see you tomorrow?”

The mention of George Saunders meant something to Green. He offered to drive up the coast and meet Dane at the Mad Hatter’s Bar and Grill at two o’clock the next afternoon. Dane mentioned that he could easily come to Green, but the man was insistent. “No, I’ve been away too long. Tell you the truth, I’m looking forward to planting my feet back on Wonderland soil.”

A moment later, Dane opened the front door.

“You the director?”

Dane smiled. “That’s what they tell me. Come on in.”

Dylan DeMille looked even better than Dane remembered. And he’d looked great then. A hunky knockout, DeMille stood solidly at five-feet-eleven. Dane guessed he probably weighed about two hundred pounds, all muscle. Where Sawyer was compact, Dylan was stacked. His chest entered the house before the rest of him, guarded by eighteen-inch guns that rested powerfully at his sides even as they challenged the sleeves of his faded USC t-shirt. DeMille’s bright, natural smile was offset by short, black hair both on the top of his head and on his stubbled chin.

“I’ve got to tell you, I’m a little nervous.”

Dane offered Dylan a beer to help him relax. The guest star politely declined but did accept a glass of water, which he gulped down with gusto. “Yeah, I’ve never … um, done it with a guy. Not even at the gym and a lot of guys come on to me at the gym.”

“I bet.”

Dane showed him upstairs to the third floor. There, they played with one of the smaller cameras, introducing themselves to the audience in cyberworld. Dane went first and then cued his video partner.

“Hi, I’m Dylan. I’m twenty-five. I played football back in college and now I’m into surfing. And girls. I really need the money, and you know, to bust a nut, so I guess we’re Straight-To-Bed!”

Nice plug, thought Dane. He remounted the camera, adjusted it appropriately and joined Dylan on the bed.

For a moment, they lay side-by-side, fully-clothed, propped up by pillows. A handsome couple by any standard. Dylan surprised Dane by making the first move. A good-natured squeeze of his upper thigh. Dane followed suit, then slid his hand incrementally higher until he cupped the guy’s rather generous basket. What was in there appeared size-appropriate to the rest of his body. They continued exploring with their hands, unrushed, unembarrassed, becoming more comfortable with one another.

Then, to the surprise of both actors, they joined in a kiss. It was tentative at first. Then downright passionate. Dylan’s hands lifted to cup Dane’s face as his tongue probed Dane’s mouth.

When they parted, Dylan looked at his unlikely sex partner with a serious expression. And broke out in a big goofy smile. “That felt so strange. Good strange, though!” he added quickly. As though wanting to confirm that statement, he kissed Dane again.

In short order, shirts were shucked and socks tugged off. Dane placed his palm against the surfer’s chest, marveling at its massive shape.

“I bet you’ve done this to a girl, but have you ever had it done to you?” He started sucking on Dylan’s hard nipples, prompting the guy’s feet to kick out at the air, trying to ride waves of rapture.

“Ohhhhh!” Dylan struggled free, covering his nipples with an arm like a modest schoolgirl. “Holy shit, I didn’t even know I had feelings there. That’s wild.”

Wild was the word. Dane had released something primal in this guy that suddenly took over. Without any further coaxing, Dylan was pawing at Dane’s body. Pulling his jeans off with a single thrust. Licking and kissing. Grinding his mighty hips against Dane who felt like putty in his hands.

Seeking a more active role in all of this, Dane playfully bit

Dylan’s bicep causing him shudder. The guy’s entire body seemed highly sensitive, and every move Dane made sent him reeling in delight.

“Suck me, dude. Do it.”

Dane obliged, opening Dylan’s Levis and shimmying them off.

He started by softly licking Dylan’s furry balls. And then licked his way to the head of the surfer’s dick, pausing for a moment before taking the entire eight inches down his throat. Dylan leaned