Brent Everett grips Allen King’s hips as he slams into him from behind, the dark hair of both men tangled with sweat and the sound of flesh meeting flesh sharp against the balcony’s water view. Allen King’s muscular back arches, his tattooed skin glistening under the light, while Brent’s fingers dig into his waist, holding him steady for every brutal thrust. Their lips crash together in desperate kisses as the city stretches out behind them, unseen but always there.
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