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That’s something I need to remember. This is just experience for Oakley, and I want to be the one to give it to him. When we’re done, we’ll go our separate ways, and hopefully shit won’t be twisted between us like it was the last time.
“Des?” he asks, making me realize I’ve been quiet for a while. “Does that bother you? I don’t know if now’s the time to tell her. Especially since we’re just fucking around.”
Just fucking around. He’s exactly right. That’s all I want anyway.
“Nah, we’re good. You can experiment all you want with me. I can get naked, and you can do some experimenting right now,” I tease.
He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, and suddenly, that’s all that matters. This will be fun. This is fucking. I’ve spent years doing nothing but fucking, and it’s not any different now that I’m doing it with Oakley Manning.
“Come on. Let’s go swimming,” I say, changing the subject. We spent so much time in the water when we were teenagers that it feels right doing that now too.
“I didn’t bring swim trunks.” He stands and walks around to the side of the counter that I’m on. “Can I borrow some?”
I look him up and down, not hiding my visual examination of his body. “Nope. I don’t think you can.” I pull off my shirt and set it on the counter. “We’re going in our underwear.” My backyard is designed for privacy, with a tall fence, trees, and foliage blocking the view. I don’t have neighbors close enough to see in, either. Just like before, we’ll be completely safe back there.
I reach out, testing the waters, teasing the warm skin of his abdomen. Oakley’s breath hitches, his flared eyes holding on to me, and it hits me that I’m here with him like this, that we had whatever we had as teenagers, then spent years pretending things weren’t strained between us—yet somehow, we found our way back to this within what feels like two seconds of us talking again.
I wait, wondering if he’s going to tell me no, if I’m pushing too hard, because I always seem to want more when it comes to Oak, but then something in his expression changes. He gets a glint in his eyes and then… “Race you to the pool.” He takes off running before I even get a chance to realize what’s happening.
Oakley’s heading for my back door, throwing his shirt off again and kicking out of his shoes while he goes.
I’m right behind him. We stumble into the glass door together, both trying to open it, but Oak gets it first, sliding it hard and then tugging out of his jeans and jumping into the water with his socks on. I can do nothing but stand back and laugh.
“You really wanted to win, huh?” I leisurely walk out behind him as though I don’t like to win, too.
“I always want to beat you,” he tells me as I tug my pants and socks off, then jump into the water behind him.
When I break the water again, I’m next to him, rubbing a hand over my wet face, then shaking my head to splash him.
Oakley laughs, and the sound does something to me, makes me feel light inside, almost buoyant. “You’re my favorite person to beat, too.”
“I don’t think I said that,” he argues.
“But we both know it’s what you meant.” Before he can respond, I jump on Oakley and dunk him under the water. Our conversation is over with that, both of us trying to get the better of each other instead.
I have fun with him. I have more fun with Oakley Manning than I do with anyone else, and I’m not sure how to feel about that.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Desmond
We stay in the pool for about an hour, sometimes laughing and playing around, other times just floating and talking. When we get out, I lead Oak to my outdoor shower. It’s around the side of the house in a secluded alcove surrounded by tall rock walls.
He looks unsure at first, then realizes where I’m taking him. He doesn’t say anything as I turn the water on, then tug off my underwear and hang it on the drying rack.
I don’t tell him to do the same, letting Oak find his own way, making sure he’s comfortable in whatever decision he makes.
I step under the shower, back to him, head beneath the spray as water runs down my back and head. A moment later, I feel him step up behind me.
His arms wrap around me.
His lips press to my shoulder.
His groin pushes against my ass, his very hard dick pressing against me.
Oakley’s hands run up and down my torso. His fingers pluck my nipples, but when his hands travel down again, he avoids my dick.
He never touched it last time we were together, either. I grabbed his, felt it through his swim trunks, rubbed and stroked it, but Oakley didn’t do the same for me. I figured that was because he hadn’t known about his bisexuality before us—he hadn’t had the chance to get used to it, to think about the same things I had—but now I wonder if that’s going to be an issue for him. He said earlier that he would return the favor, and I’d fucking kill to feel Oak’s hand or his mouth wrapped around my dick, but only if he wanted it as much as me. Only if he craved it the way I do.
