Jack Dyer’s tattooed arms grip Chandler Scott’s hips as he drives in deep, the shaved head leaning back with a groan, while his fingers dig into the cushion beneath him. Dyer’s muscular chest presses against Scott’s back, his mouth sealing over the other’s neck as he sucks hard, the motorcycle wheels blurred in the background. Scott’s hands clench the cushion, his breath ragged as Dyer’s thrusts grow harder.
