Read By CLARE LONDON for Free Online Page B

taut skin as I satisfied our hunger, deeper and harder. I felt a shudder deep in his balls and the catch of his breath as it announced the imminent end. But even as my heart raced at the thought of swallowing him and my lips tightened, he yanked my head back and slid me off.
    Panting, I licked my swollen, frustrated lips and lifted my head to stare up at him. He still gripped me tight, but his eyes were half-closed. His chest heaved with breaths too shallow for comfort, and his thigh muscles twitched under my touch. His cock jutted out into my face, red, glossy with my saliva, and acting bloody angry at being denied. He looked superb: a vibrant, aching statue of a man, and I wanted so much more of him that I felt a physical hurt.
    “You want to fuck me?” My voice was hoarse as if I hadn’t used it for weeks. I knew what I was asking. It was all part of the strange surrender that had consumed me this night—I was contemplating letting some near stranger bury his cock in my arse, and I seemed to accept it as okay. Welcomed it, in fact.
    “Yes.” His tongue slipped out and moistened his lips. He bent his head forward, gazing back down at me with half-focused eyes. “Yes!”
    I stood, my knees shaky. He watched me as I slipped open the button of my jeans and unzipped myself. I was standing there in an open yard and I was going to strip myself for this man to fuck me. Let’s face it, it wasn’t going to be comfortable. We were standing on a barely swept concrete floor with a brick wall for a view, surrounded by bags of rubbish and spied on by passing foxes. What’s more, anyone might come out of the club and find us.
    Which was the dominant feeling—terror or excitement?
    I slid the jeans down my legs and flipped my briefs down after them. They caught on my erection, sending a shivering ache up to my groin. My dick was damp at the tip, swollen and desperate to be free of the cloth. I kicked the clothes off over my boots, my movements clumsy but determined, and pushed them away to the side. I hoped they didn’t land in anything too sordid. I stood there in my crumpled shirt and footwear, nothing else. The night air rustled gently against my shirttails, blowing soft trails in the hair on my legs and tickling under my balls. I wondered when I’d last fucked in the open air. My memory wasn’t up to scratch at all tonight.
    Seve was breathing very heavily. He stared at my body, desire glittering in his eyes like fireflies. “Turn around.”
    He had a London accent, but the sensuous roll to his pronunciation made my skin crawl with excitement. I felt him move up behind me and his cock nudged at my arse cheeks, catching on the edge of my shirt. He was a shaft of pure heat under the silk. His hands landed on my shoulders again, and he pressed me forward so I had to throw out my hands to protect myself. I was forced up against the wall, my back bent in a concave shape. His hand slipped down to my buttocks, touching me there, firm, possessive. He shifted a knee between my legs and spread them further apart.
    My cock bobbed rather perilously near the brickwork. This was going to hurt one way or another.
    “You got a condom?” I was horny but still bemused at the way things had gone so fast, so fiercely. And unused to this whole thing: it had been a bloody long time since anyone took me.
    “I… no.” To give him his due, this whole thing seemed to have taken Seve as much by surprise as it had me. He cursed softly. His hand paused in smoothing my buttocks, creeping around inside the crack, brushing at my hole. I just about stopped myself pushing back against his fingers, begging for more.
    “It’s okay, I have.” I couldn’t believe I was saying this. “In my wallet.” He bent down and I heard him scrabble around in my discarded clothing. I wondered if the fucking thing would be out of date by now—one of the guys on the construction site had slipped it to me a couple of months ago, just for a laugh. I’d never