“Competitive motherfuckers,” I grumble.
“Eh, let them win,” Soren says behind me. “I was thinking of having our own fun along the way.” His hand sneaks under my life jacket, and his fingers bite into my skin.
“Yeah? What kind of fun?”
“Start driving and find out.” His voice rumbles in my ear.
I take off, going slow.
Soren’s warm breath hits my neck. “If we lag too far behind, someone’s going to come back for us. Go faster.”
I pull on the throttle harder and lean back against Soren even more.
His hand on my stomach moves lower and unties the knot in my board shorts. I startle and accelerate by accident, jolting us, and Soren has to reach with his free hand to hold the other side of the steering column.
“Unless you want your brother to see my hand in your shorts, you might want to slow down.”
“Go faster. Slow down. Make up your mind.”
“Go fast enough they can still see us coming, but don’t catch up to them.”
“What are you doing?”
Soren’s hand dips into my trunks and wraps around my cock. “I was thinking about getting you off. You know, to help fill our fun quota. Because I cannot take another bumpy ride without touching you, and this is technically in front of your brother … so it doesn’t break the rules.”
Damn him and his genius logic.
“If we get flung off this thing and die, it’s your fault.”
He laughs. “You can say no.”
“Who the fuck says no to getting off?”
“So, don’t crash.”
Salty air whips by us, the jet ski speeding across the flat water. Occasionally we hit a small bump, but the guys are far enough away now that we don’t have to deal with their wake.
I try to concentrate on where we’re going and keep an eye out for the others or any other people on boats, but the water’s deserted, and we have a clear path to follow.
Soren strokes my cock teasingly from tip to root and then swipes his thumb over the head.
I shudder and bite back a smartass remark about him being a good stick handler.
With him pressed against my back and his hand on my cock, it’s so easy for me to give myself to Soren, wholly and completely, and that should scare me. With one touch, I’m under his spell again, just like I was last night when he kissed me.
Just like I was three years ago—the last time he touched me like this.
As he gets a steady rhythm, there’s nothing more I want to do but surrender to him, but I’m too busy trying to focus on his strokes and not crashing this damn jet ski.
Extreme sex sports. It should be a thing.
Soren’s hard cock digs into my lower back, and his hips move behind me. My eyes fall shut, enjoying every overwhelming sensation his body does to me.
“I see land,” Soren says.
Oh. Right. Need eyes to see so I don’t kill us.
“You’re running out of time,” he says in my ear and then nips at my earlobe.
He jerks me harder, faster, his grip so tight it’s almost painful, but it sends me higher and higher. Heat pools in my gut. It’s too much.
I teeter on the edge, waiting to fall.
“Come, baby.” Soren’s rumble pushes me over.
I can no longer see straight, my hand slips on the throttle, and we slow right down while I moan through my release.
We come to a complete stop in the middle of nowhere.
Soren’s strong arms surround me, and I relax into them. My head falls back on his shoulder, and using his hand that’s not stroking me through my orgasm, he lifts my chin and brings his mouth down on mine.
So much for me not falling into the sex stuff right away. In my defense, he’s Soren.
Just his name is enough to get me hard, and I knew the second I suggested it last night that it wouldn’t take long to happen.
I reach behind me, my hand going to the back of his head and gripping his short hair.
My tongue barely has time to get in on the action when Soren pulls back. “Wha—” I ask, but I’m unable to form any more sounds.
Soren pulls his hand out of my shorts and leans over to wash my cum off in the water. “Incoming. Might want to fix yourself up.”
“Huh?” I lower my head, and that’s when I see a jet ski heading straight for us.
I scramble to put my cock away and abandon the idea of being able to tie my shorts back up, but at least I’m covered even if there’s a very obvious wet patch against the light-yellow fabric.
Soren casually reaches for the key on the jet ski and pulls it out, killing the engine completely.
As the other jet ski approaches, Soren and I both relax when we see it’s Ollie and Lennon. They kinda already know about us anyway.