Salute to the Stud Read online

  When he got to his feet, I let my head drop to the mat and blew out a sigh of relief. Until a hand landed on my shoulder, and I jerked up to look straight into his warm eyes.

  "How are you doing?"

  His voice, low and deep, washed over me like a gentle wave, and I shuddered.

  "Yeah. I'm good." I cleared my throat, my voice sounding husky like I'd worked my way through all the local brewery beers in one night.

  "Make sure your arms are in line with your shoulders and then lift the pelvis."

  Dear God, somebody save me. His barely-there touch burned through the thin cotton of my T-shirt and the sweet smell of him – like coconuts – wrapped around me and made my mouth water.

  "Good. Now take a breath in and straighten your legs, pushing up and letting your head drop between your straightened arms."

  He removed his hand from my shoulder, and I relaxed a little.

  "Do you mind if I touch you?"

  I clamped my lips together at the inappropriate responses trying to escape and instead just shook my head. But then he cupped my stomach, and my muscles contracted. His touch gentle yet sure had my stomach flipping and my mind racing, wondering what it would be like if he caressed me when we weren't in a yoga class. It had been three months since Sam and I split. Three months without the touch of another man, and my eyes stung as it hit me how much I'd missed a caring touch, because it had been much longer than three months since Sam had held me that way.

  "Good. Now blow the breath out and let your stomach hang down."

  He moved his hands round to my hips, lifting and turning them, and my breath stuttered.

  "Excellent. Keep going."

  At last, his hands disappeared, and relief warred with disappointment at the loss of his touch. He moved on to the woman beside me, and with him no longer a distraction, I concentrated on the view in front of me. It really was beautiful and calming. The gentle waves scurrying up the beach and the sky changing from orange to blue. The peace only broken by the squawking, almost whistle-like sounds of the bird calls from the trees. Voices carried from the hotel as the place slowly came to life, the pace much slower and relaxed there. Unlike London, which struggled to take a deep breath most of the time. I really should make the most of the time I had left there before going home to London and back to work. Back to my grey, little cubicle in the grey, little offices of Home from Home. Your one stop for all your holiday needs, or so they'd like you to think. Back to other people's calls complaining about their holidays and why they thought we should give them a refund. God, how the hell had I ended up in After Sales? Because I sucked at selling holidays. Because I didn't give a shit, not like my colleagues. Because I refused to put the hard sell on people like they did, lying to them about how lucky they were there was a cancellation on their selected property. Total bullshit, but whatever it took to meet their sales targets. I didn't have it in me; I wanted people to book the holiday they wanted – guess that's how I ended up in After Sales.

  I dragged myself back to the view in front of me and the remainder of the class passed quite peacefully without further incident.

  "Now bring your hands down to your heart centre and dip your head. Namaste."

  The others in the class repeated whatever word he'd said and stayed seated until he gracefully unfolded himself from the floor, all fluid movement. As I shook the sand from my borrowed mat and then rolled it, he weaved his way through the other class members and stopped in front of me with a serene smile.

  "Hi. I wanted to check if you enjoyed this morning's class. Oh, I'm Tamal by the way."

  He held his hand out, and I probably shouldn't tell him his class didn't quite match up to my fantasies. He clasped hold of my hand, long smooth fingers wrapping around mine. "Hi. Yes, I did. Thanks, and I'm Jasper." He gave my hand a squeeze then released his hold on me.

  "I'm so glad to hear that. Hopefully, I'll see you tomorrow morning as well? Or if you prefer, there's an afternoon class on the lawn next to the bar lounge."

  In all honesty the yoga class had been okay but wasn't the real reason I was there. And whether or not Tamal was my sexter, I was there for the possibility of arranging a hookup. His eyebrows furrowed and two little dints appeared between them, his eyes softening as I got lost in their dark depths. I wanted Tamal to be my sexting yoga instructor. I wanted to respond to his sexts. I wanted my own private yoga session with a happy ending. I wanted a chance at making my fantasies a reality for just one night. Fuck it. I never had to see him again if this ended in disaster. With a swipe of my tongue over my lips, I asked him, "Actually, I wondered if there were any other yoga instructors available?"

  His shoulders slumped as he pressed those pouty lips tight together. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That came out wrong.

  "I'm sorry, but this week it's just me."

  He stepped back like he needed to put some distance between us, but my lips lifted because Tamal had to be my mystery sexter, right? I glanced around but no one from the class was paying any attention to us. I swiped my palms down my hips to dry the clamminess and swallowed the butterflies trying to escape my stomach. "Actually, I wondered if you did, er, private classes?"

  One long black eyebrow quirked up a little, creating a wrinkle above it. His dark cheeks tinged red and, fuck, I should have kept my mouth shut. I might as well have enquired if he was a rent boy or something. That was why I didn't do shit like this.

  "That's not a request I normally get from hotel guests."

  Interesting. That wasn't a no. His gaze lowered, and I could almost feel it working its way down my body. "I've been having a lot of backache recently..." Not a total lie, but hey, sometimes you had to get a little creative.

  "I guess I could make an exception. When were you thinking?"

  My sis would be knackered after her trip, so I reckoned I'd have the night to myself. "This evening?" Yeah, I didn't sound eager at all. His lips twitched, but he nodded before glancing around and taking a step closer.

  "If you follow the beach all the way to the end there's a shack at the edge of the cove. Meet me there about seven?"

  I nodded, my throat so dry I didn't think I could force any words out. He shot me that serene smile again, which morphed into a smirk before he brought his hands together between his pecs and briefly dipped his head down to me then wandered off to speak to the lady behind me. Concentrating on rolling up the rest of my mat I couldn't contain the wide grin or the fluttery roll of my stomach because I was pretty sure I'd just arranged my first hookup.

  Chapter Three

  BY THE time seven o'clock had almost rolled around I had talked myself in then out of meeting up a thousand times. Then back in, because I wanted to see Tamal again – more than I probably should. But then the thought of seeing him again – of what we might do – had my breaths coming far too quickly and my skin itched like it had been stretched too thin. I knew nothing about the man I was meeting apart from the yoga and plowing bit if Tamal and the sexter were one and the same person. If they were then I was worrying unnecessarily because Tamal had been… A sigh escaped as the word 'everything' flittered through my mind. Stupid, getting carried away, and I didn't know what to wear. What if Tamal expected to give me an actual yoga lesson?

  What if I'd misunderstood the whole conversation? To be on the safe side, I stuck to shorts and a T-shirt. My sister texted me to let me know she was having a great time at the waterfalls and would be home by 8 p.m. Their guide had arranged a traditional dinner out afterwards. So I texted her I was going out for a wander down the beach and would see her in the morning. Not a complete lie but not the whole truth. But some things my sister didn't need to know. Some things I didn't need my sister to know.

  My bare feet sank into the sand as I strolled along the water's edge. The waves crept up the beach and lapped at my feet. Goosebumps erupted up my legs, the water cool now the sun had disappeared. The tops of the waves glinted where the moonlight caught them, and a few stars twinkled like they were winking at me and
in on my secret. The further I wandered the quieter the sounds of the hotel became, to be replaced by the quiet rush of the sea and the high-pitched whistle of the frogs calling to each other that I still hadn't got used to. Once I passed the bar lounge, there was nothing but palm trees and beach until the sand disappeared beneath a stretch of rocks. I climbed over them to find a single wooden shack with a coconut-style thatched roof, and the only thing visible in the secluded cove. If it hadn't been for the window that glowed brightly against the inky night sky I'd have thought it was abandoned. I hesitated. In or out? With a clammy hand, I smoothed my T-shirt over my hips. Told myself it was like a gay rite of passage – had to have at least one hookup in my dating life. And I wanted to see Tamal again. Fuck it. I strode up the beach like I owned the goddamned place. Like I would have done before Sam. Fake it till you make it, right?

  I knocked on the door and waited. It swung open to reveal Tamal, and he stepped back into a larger than expected room. Wooden floors covered in brightly coloured rugs, several hurricane lamps with candles aglow inside, and in the far corner a large wooden bed all lent to a warm, cosy feel. The place smelled like the beach with a hint of sweetness. And the candles made me think date, not yoga class. Maybe Tamal was on the same page as me.

  At the click of the door shutting, I spun around to face Tamal and swallowed audibly. A white vest stretched across his chest emphasised the honey-brown colour of his skin and highlighted every muscle. I laughed when I read the slogan: 70% yogi 30% ninja, and he smiled at me. My gaze dropped to his shorts: not loose but not tight either, but definitely not hiding what was underneath.

  He stepped around me and into the centre of where the edges of the rugs met and the floorboards were bare. Two rolled yoga mats lay on the chest of drawers, and he scooped them up and held one out to me. Maybe we were for real doing a yoga session. With a flick of his wrists, he unrolled his mat then lay it out, sat in the middle of it Indian style, then gazed up at me and waited. I unrolled mine with a little less flair and sat facing him on the centre of my own mat, legs crossed. As I watched, he brought his hands together and bowed his head. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to copy him, but then he lifted his head, serene smile in place, and I didn't care. That smile had my own lips lifting in response and the usual need to fill the silence with strangers vanished, allowing me to just enjoy the connection of being there in the moment with Tamal. Like he could see me – all of me.

  "Let's begin."

  He unfolded his long legs and swung himself around then rolled over so he was flat on his stomach. I followed suit.

  "You want to place your hands underneath your shoulders...like this."

  Propping myself up on one elbow I watched as he placed his hands flat on the floor then pushed up until his arms were straight, biceps flexed. The muscles along his forearms tightened and yeah, total arm porn.

  "—arch your back."

  Shit, I'd tuned out what he'd been saying, too lost in admiring his strength. He thrust his chest out, stretching the vest, and you'd have to have been blind not to notice the definition of his pecs. He turned his head, a smirk making a dimple appear in his chin. I smiled back, and he laughed. A deep rumble that made my toes curl and my stomach clench.

  "You're supposed to follow my lead."

  Oh, right…yeah. I planted my hands on the floor and pushed myself up then turned my head to look at Tamal. His head was tipped back, eyes closed, and the look on his face so peaceful, like he had no worries, nothing could bother him or touch him in the calm bubble surrounding him. God, I wanted to channel his peacefulness.

  "When you're ready, lift your hips and shift back onto your knees."

  Tilting my head, I followed his graceful movements, the play of his muscles as they contracted and relaxed, their definition obvious beneath his form-fitting outfit.

  "Curl your toes and push up, feet flat on the floor if you can, legs straight and up into downward facing dog. Your body should be a V-shape, hands and feet anchored on the floor."

  He dropped back down to his knees, and I dipped my head looking up at him from beneath my fringe.

  "OK, your turn."

  This was an epically bad idea, but I tried to mimic his movements. He shifted until he knelt beside me, and my hips jerked at the feel of his hand on my lower back. "Relax." Easier said than done when my cock decided it wanted in on the action and jumped like it was reaching for Tamal's touch. With a far too light brush against me, he slid his hand around my side and over my belly which contracted at the ticklish touch. He pressed his hand into my stomach.

  "Contract your abs. They will help you stay in the pose."

  I tried, but then he dragged his hand down to my lower back as he leaned in towards my head. With one hand cupping the back of my neck the other slid lower towards my arse, and my knees shook with the effort to hold myself up.

  He leaned in close, his words coming out low and rough as he asked, "Do you want an actual yoga lesson, Jasper?"

  Chapter Four

  AT THE sound of my name on his lips, the hairs on the back of my neck lifted. He'd managed to make my name sound like sex and sin all rolled into one. I groaned and dropped to my knees. "No." I managed to pant the word out as his fingers dipped perilously close to my arse cheeks.

  "Up on your feet."

  I opened my eyes and looked at him.

  "Up," he said again, one eyebrow lifting slightly.

  With a grunt, I pushed back up off my knees as his hand stroked over my arse. The other swept down my spine and then underneath me and across my tightened abs, sliding dangerously close to the bulge filling my shorts, but not touching. If I tilted my hips—

  "What exactly did you come here for this evening?"

  "You," I panted. Then his thumb traced along the outline of my hard length. My teeth sank into my bottom lip, and I stretched up onto my toes as a slightly high-pitched whimper escaped. He started a steady rhythm up and down my cock with the pad of his thumb as his other hand dipped below the waistband of my shorts, fingers stroking over my bare arse cheek.

  "On your knees."

  The words sounded more like a growl and had me immediately obeying. Disappointment washed over me as his hands disappeared only to be swiftly followed by embarrassment. With a few words and simple touches, he'd had me so close to the edge. Of course, he hadn't thought this was a hookup. But then his fingers hooked beneath my shorts and dragged them down my thighs. They pooled at my feet, and I wriggled out of them as he yanked my T-shirt over my head, leaving me just in my boxers.

  "Have to make sure your alignment is correct," he said, brushing fingertips down my back, making me arch into his touch. I wanted his fingers back on my aching dick. I'd never wanted – needed – to come so much in my life.

  "Tamal, please." God, was that whiny voice mine? And since when did I beg?

  "Ssh. I've got you."

  And he did, cupping my butt in his sure hands then slipping his fingers under the waistband of my boxers, wrapping them around my dick with a firm hold. I groaned. His hand slid up my length, wrist twisting so his palm brushed over the already dripping tip of my cock. He set a fast rhythm, and my arms shook with the effort of holding myself up on all fours. Releasing me, Tamal swatted my bum.

  "Turn over."

  I gladly dropped to my arse, and Tamal widened my legs as I rested back on my hands and tried to catch my breath. He sat between my spread thighs, lifting his legs over mine then hooking them behind my back and aligning our groins. I could see the outline of the head of his cock where it stretched the thin material of his workout pants. He pressed our cocks together then ground down on me, making me moan and thrust my hips up to meet him.

  Even if this was all we did, it was still, hands down, the most erotic moment of my life. The slightly taboo nature of not really knowing Tamal. The hidden shack on a deserted beach in the middle of paradise. And the hottest guy I'd ever fooled around with, yet also felt comfortable enough around to open up to him like this. I knew
I could trust him which really didn't make sense, but deep down I just knew. Tamal made a sound like a growl as he thrust against me, bringing him close enough to claim my lips. And that was what it was – a claiming. He owned me in that moment. Owned my body. Owned my pleasure.

  The tip of his tongue pressed against my closed mouth, and I quickly granted him access. As our tongues met a jolt of lust shot down my spine, bringing us closer together. He tasted warm like a summer day and fruity, sweet like pineapple juice. I couldn't resist any longer. My fingers itched to touch his sun-kissed skin. To trace the bumps and dips of all those lean muscles. So I wrapped my fingers around his calf, the hairs on his leg rough against my palm, slid my hand up to his thick thigh and over the rise of his arse cheek, then slipped my hands beneath his vest and over the soft hair leading up to his belly. All firm muscle beneath soft skin and cotton.

  I explored over the ridges of his abs contracted tight beneath my touch. Grazed over an erect nipple and drew a groan from Tamal, which I swiftly swallowed down. He had far too many clothes on, so breaking the kiss, I tugged the vest over his head and threw it over my shoulder somewhere as I drank in the sight of Tamal before me – shirtless. His dark eyes, clouded over with lust, looked almost black. He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip then raked his blunt nails down my chest, catching on an erect nipple, and the pain-pleasure made me groan and jerk.

  When he reached my boxers, he dragged them down far enough to free my cock, the cool air making it twitch beneath his intense stare. I dropped my gaze and followed his movements as he peeled down his tight workout pants, giving me my first glimpse of his hard, cut cock. My mouth watered.

  Sam had never been keen on blow jobs – giving or receiving – and the urge to take Tamal into my mouth, to suckle on the damp head, almost overwhelmed me. But then Tamal wrapped a hand around both our lengths, squeezed our dicks together, and jerked our shafts. I buried my head in the crook of his neck, angling so I could watch. I got more and more worked up as the heads of our cocks disappeared and reappeared from the tunnel of his hand. I stroked my fingers down his arm and over the corded muscles as they worked me towards orgasm.