Chapter 8

Troy’s other greedy hand had begun to tug at Juan’s Tecate logo T-shirt, dragging it out of his jeans so he could find the smooth hot skin beneath it. Yeah. Good, so good. His questing fingers absorbed heat, satin smooth skin taut across a respectable six-pack of abs, a slender arrow of dark hair down themid-line that descended behind the belt buckle and snap of Juan’s Levi’s. His thumb bushed across Juan’s navel, bringing a sudden and searing image of another cavity he wanted to explore. At that, his cock gave a leap that threatened to rip out the fly of his Dockers.

Juan was no passive recipient of Troy’s touches. His hands were busy, too. First, one delved into the hip pocket on Troy’s right cheek, fingers digging into the bunched muscles. Then he drew it back and went to work on Troy’s shirt. Once the tails were free, he managed to reach between them and start to undo the buttons.