Page 23 of Caged Hunger

“Vegas,” Basher answered, completely unaware of his social faux pas.

Cameron risked a glance over at Basher. “You don’t really talk much, do you?”

Basher shrugged. “Sometimes.” His eyes glanced in Cameron’s direction before moving back to focus on the path ahead of them. “I like listening to you talk.”

Once again, Cameron’s heartbeat quickened. At this rate, his heart was going to become an expert runner by the end of the month, given how hard it was pounding whenever he was around Basher.

Cameron smiled. “Well, I like to talk, so I guess that works out.”

For the rest of the walk, he explained how he’d ended up in Baton. He’d moved there from Roswell about a year earlier, drawn mostly by the lower cost of living. He’d worked as a bartender throughout college, so when he asked Marcus for a job, he was hired immediately.

Throughout it all, Basher remained silent, quietly taking in Cameron’s words—or at least giving him that impression.

When they arrived at his third-floor walk-up, Cameron’s heart rate quickened once again.

Was he really about to invite this man in? Take him up to his bedroom and ride him till the early morning hours?

His dick twitched, announcing its support. It had been painstakingly hard the whole walk home, and now that they were here, his cock was demanding its reward.

“Do you want to come up for a drink or something?” Cameron heard himself ask.

It was strange asking a man up to his apartment in person. Usually, he just logged on to one of the many gay apps he used and messaged guys until he found one who was horny and willing. There was usually a brief exchange of pictures, followed by a quick location share, before leaving the door unlocked so a random stranger could come in and fuck him.

It was quick, impersonal, and never nerve-racking.

See? We should be studied.

Standing there, waiting for a response, was like standing in an STD clinic, waiting for the results of your rapid test—breath locked in his chest, tension creeping in, every second dragging longer than the last.

Basher turned and ran his thumb across the contours of Cameron’s face.

His touch was so soft and gentle. Not what you would have expected coming from someone with rough, calloused hands that were covered in tattoos.

“Maybe next time,” he whispered, lowering his hand and tucking it into his jeans. “Night, Cameron.”

He turned and began walking back the way they came.

Cameron stood there, stunned and confused.

Had he said something wrong? Had he misread the entire situation? Perhaps Basher wasn’t interested in him.

The whole situation had him reevaluating every interaction they had shared over the past few weeks.

Swallowing hard, Cameron pulled open the door and headed into his building.

10

BASHER

It had taken all of his strength not to accept Cameron’s offer and follow him upstairs.

But he knew if he had, it would have just been a night of intense fucking and meaningless sex. He was too riled up and horny to think straight or even give Cameron the attention he deserved. When he got this horny, he was like a bull fighting in a ring. He only had one goal—to destroy the tight fucking hole currently wrapped around his dick.

If he was going to continue working with Cameron and living in Baton, he needed to be careful about who he stuck his dick into.

Although Cameron was extremely sexy, Basher knew the situation needed to be handled carefully.

So, while it pained him to do it, he respectfully declined Cameron’s offer to come inside and headed back to his home, where he spent the next forty-five minutes watching video after video of Cameron riding dick.