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left off playing with his balls to fist his shaft instead. Whatever the doctor had given him sure hadn’t relaxed him completely. Preston grinned and stroked up the steely length. Water alone wasn’t helping with the grip so he cracked open one eye long enough to find the little container of conditioner on the shelf.
    Preston opened it with his teeth, unwilling to take that finger from his hole. He wiggled it and moaned happily. How had he gone without this?
    After emptying the conditioner onto his dick, Preston dropped the little bottle and started stroking again. Occasionally the scratches on his back stung, small reminders of the danger he’d been in yesterday. Over that, though, came the memory of a rough, wet tongue against his skin.
    Preston shivered. He could have been killed, he could have been maimed, but he hadn’t been. Instead, it almost seemed like the leopards had helped—
    Why am I thinking about leopards while I’m jerking off? Preston snorted. He focused on the way his hand felt on his cock, the drag of skin on skin, and he pushed a second digit into his asshole as well.
    “Uhn…gawd!” He needed more in his ass, more stretching, more fullness. He needed more goddamned arms, too! Preston tightened his hold on his cock and pumped harder. If he just had a big dick ramming into his ass, he’d be in nirvana.
    He tried working a third finger in, but he’d never been a contortionist. He was short and stocky, and his arms reflected that. Preston closed his eyes and envisioned himself getting fucked instead. His lover mounted him from behind and held him with a firm grip as a thick, long cock began to fill him.
    “Yes, fuck.” Preston imagined a scrape of teeth over his nape, the firm, hard grip of a man’s hands on his hips, the press of balls against his. He wanted to be so full he couldn’t handle any more. He wanted rough and fierce, scratches and marks and bruises. He wanted to feel like he’d been fucked for days.
    And in his mind, a swarthy dark-haired lover held him in a grip that left fingernail marks on his skin as he slammed into Preston’s ass with bruising thrusts. The fantasy catapulted him into release as he imagined the stranger grunting and shoving him against the wall to really pound away at him.
    Preston’s balls ached as they shot cum up to his dick. He yelped and fucked his hand even as he tried desperately to stretch his hole more. His climax shook him to his toes and he cried out as spunk jetted from his slit. The fingers he’d shoved in his ass were clamped in a tight vise as he came, and Preston could only pant through the rest of his release.
    When he came back down from the intense orgasm, his hands were both in his lap and he was sitting on the shower floor. He didn’t know how it’d happened, just that he’d ended up there. It was jolting, but nothing felt broken, so he supposed he’d somehow got down and sat.
    On a nasty motel shower floor. Preston leapt up so quickly he slid on the wet flooring. “Shit!” he screeched as he tried steadying himself by grabbing the shower curtain.
    But the shower curtain was yanked out of his hand the second he caught hold of it. Preston blinked and figured he was seriously hallucinating. He’d hit his head after all, or something, because a hairy, naked man had taken a hold of Preston’s arm, steadying him. There couldn’t be a hairy, naked man in his motel room. That made no sense.
    Except I left the fucking front door cracked open. Shit! Then Preston did something he’d never done before in his life.
    He fainted.

Chapter Six
     
     
     
    It hadn’t been Nischal’s intention to strip down and jack off. But damn it, he’d slipped into the room, which Preston had idiotically left open. The man was fine, but nonetheless, he’d wanted to grab Preston and scold him until he promised not to be so foolish ever again. Anyone could have come into the room and hurt Preston. There would be no more taking such risks.
    The small room