It’s the same thing he said back in Zandvoort, so I respond the same way I did then, too. “You kissed me back.”
“So I did.” He brushes his knuckles down the length of my zipper. My cock twitches, thinking he’s going to free it from its denim prison, but instead he lets his hand fall to his side and tips his head back, his eyes challenging. “Stand up.”
I groan in protest. “I thought we agreed we were doing this. Why are you stopping?”
“Who said anything about stopping?” he drawls. “I want you to strip for me.”
“No fair. I asked you first.”
“Tell you what.” He looks at me intently, his eyes like molten chocolate. “I’ll make you a deal. For every piece of clothing you remove, I’ll take one off, too.”
Now that’s more like it.
I stand and gesture to my shirt, which landed on one of the ceiling fan blades and is flapping in the breeze as it goes round and round. “I’m already half naked, so it’s your turn.”
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t count. I didn’t ask you to get that way. You did it of your own free will.”
Fine. Two can play that game. Instead of going for the obvious and taking off my jeans, I toe off one shoe.
He does the same.
My sock goes next.
His follows.
We repeat the pattern with our remaining shoes and socks, then our watches. With only my pants and boxer briefs left, I’ve got no choice but to lower my zipper and shimmy out of my jeans. My briefs don’t leave much to the imagination, and the outline of my rigid cock is clearly visible through the silky fabric.
He shudders, his pupils wide and almost pure black as he fists his polo shirt and lifts it over his head, throwing it down in front of me like he’s challenging me to a duel. Which, in a strange, sexy way, is exactly what we’re doing. Except instead of dueling to the death, we’re dueling to mutual orgasms.
I take a minute to visually feast on him. The wide expanse of his chest. The ridges and valleys of his abdominal muscles. The mouthwatering vee where his hips and torso meet, just visible above his waistband. True, I’ve seen it all before, only a few hours ago. But I barely had time to appreciate it before Kip burst in. Now, here, there’s no one to stop me from looking all I want.
“Your turn,” Ben says thickly, spreading his legs and palming his dick through his pants. “Lose the briefs, Grady.”
His gaze is riveted on my groin. He looks up, mildly surprised, when I don’t move. “I’m not sure why I expected you to follow orders in the bedroom when you’re incapable of listening to me on the track.”
“We’re not in the bedroom,” I point out, smirking.
“Semantics.”
“And I was very good on the track today.”
He massages his cock, still hidden under his clothes. “Then be good for me tonight.”
“I will.” My fingers slide under the edge of my boxers, teasing him with the promise of what’s to come. “But I want something in return.”
“What’s that?”
“Your pants have to go too. And your underwear. If I’m going to be naked, so are you.”
He unbuttons his pants and inches the zipper down with agonizing slowness. Then he lifts his gorgeous ass and slides the pants down his legs. They pool at his ankles, and he kicks them off. We’re both left only in our skivvies, his dick as pronounced against the thin fabric of his snug briefs as mine.
I hold his gaze as I tighten my grip on my boxers. “Count of three?”
He nods.
“One.”
I lower my briefs the tiniest amount. The tip of my cock springs free, slapping against my stomach, and he chokes out a moan.