Page 57 of Caged Hunger

“Jesus, you’ve managed to get this stuff everywhere.” Cameron chuckled as he wiped a piece of clay from the corner of Basher’s beard.

“What can I say? I like to really get in there when I’m using my hands.”

“I won’t argue there. Lean forward.”

Cameron began spraying Basher’s face and chest, trying his best not to get the man’s jeans wet with the wash. That might make for an uncomfortable ride home.

“So was this all part of your masterful plan to take your shirt off in front of me and seduce me with all your tattoos and muscles?” Cameron asked, glancing up at Basher’s face as he began to shake his head like a dog.

Basher stood up and flexed his chest, making his pecs dance before him.

Cameron laughed. “You’re such a nerd.”

“Yeah, but do I make you horny?” Basher asked, pumping his eyebrows like that would somehow make Cameron’s trousers drop.

“Always…” Cameron whispered, meeting Basher’s soft, pale eyes. Something about the way he looked at him made it impossible to pull away. He was hooked—completely, helplessly drawn in—and he knew, with a quiet certainty, that saying no to this man was going to become harder every time.

He hoped Basher would never realize just how much power he held over him—because if he did, Cameron wasn’t certain he’d ever be able to think for himself again.

Releasing the trigger on the hose, Cameron handed it over to Basher.

“Okay. Now it’s my turn.” He pulled off his shirt, then lowered his jeans so the top of his ass was peeking out at Basher.

He smiled when he heard Basher let out a growl.

Hmm, perhaps he had a hold over Basher as well.

21

CAMERON

It had been just over a week since Cameron and Basher had their date. Since then, they had fucked two times—once at the house, filming for his fans, and once in the bar bathroom after the bar closed for the night.

Cameron had to admit that fucking at work had a kind of dangerous element to it that he found rather sexy. Perhaps that was why so many of the guys fucked inside the bar or in the back parking lot. That sense of danger, of being caught, seemed to somehow intensify the orgasm.

Overall, the week had been a good week. Even his mother seemed to be having a string of good days.

Cameron had been to see her that night, and she was focused and present and ever so chatty. It felt just like old times.

With a smile on his face, he used his back to push open his door and stepped backward into his dark apartment.

Then he froze.

Something didn’t feel right.

“Ow!” he heard a deep voice say from somewhere in his dark kitchen.

He had two choices: run screaming for help… or do exactly what every idiot in a horror movie does right before they get themselves killed—walk right in and check it out.

Picking up the heavy, anatomically correct marble sculpture of an “excited” man—an inappropriate gift from Ace, of all people—he held the item up over his head and slowly crept toward the kitchen.

Peeking around the corner, he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of two massive legs sticking out from under his sink. Attached to the tree-trunk-sized legs was a big, burly man, half wedged under his sink.

“I have a gun. Wh-whoever you are?” Cameron called, knowing full well that his only chance was to knock the man unconscious with the horny marble statue he held.

“What? No, you don’t,” an annoyed voice said from under his kitchen sink.

The man popped his head out, and relief set in when he saw Basher’s confused, wet face.