“Sexy, sweet and heartfelt, Annabeth Albert's Out of Uniform series is a fresh take on Navy SEALs that will delight and entertain romance readers.”
--Layla Reyne, author of the Agents Irish and Whisky series.
Title: Wheels Up
Series: Out of Uniform #4
Publisher: Carina Press
Release Date (Print & Ebook): November 6th, 2017
Subgenre: M/M Contemporary Military Romance
He’d seen Wes’s chest before on camera, but the camera was fuzzy, missing key details like how Wes’s nipples were the exact color of Dustin’s favorite butterscotch toffee and how his collar bones looked made for biting. And the camera had never captured the force of Wes’s stare, the way he seemed to see past Dustin’s soul to his most secret of desires.
“Think you could get your cock out for me?” Wes’s voice was as seductive as a kiss, and his eyes never left Dustin.
Using his left hand, Dustin got an awkward grip on his cock, drew it out, waited for the next command.
“You’re doing so good for me,” Wes praised. “Pinch a nipple for me, nice and hard, and I might let you touch your cock.”
“Oh fuck.” Dustin absolutely loved when Wes played like his, and being able to look at his intense face while he made such dirty commands was the best head trip ever. Following orders, he used his left hand to pinch his right nipple, hard enough to make himself gasp.
“Twist it. More.” Wes leaned forward, arms resting on his knees.
“Hurts,” Dustin panted. He’d had worse pain, of course, but somehow deliberate pain like this was a far different beast than the ordinary wear and tear he took over the course of training or a mission.
“That’s right. Doing good.” Wes’s blue eyes were almost black now. “You’ve earned a stroke, but slowly.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Dustin’s eyes squished shut as his hand connected with his throbbing cock.
“No, look at me,” Wes commanded, and Dustin’s eyes snapped back open.
He stroked himself with a firm grip, but slowly like Wes wanted. He had to squeeze hard on the base because he was that close to the edge. “Oh God.” His voice broke.
“Yeah? Tell me what you want.” Wes was breathing hard, the only sign that he wasn’t immune to Dustin’s show.
“I’m close.” Dustin’s whole body trembled as he repeated the slow stroke upward on his cock.
“No, you’re not.” Wes’s voice was stern, his eyes like granite chunks. “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”
Usually this was where Dustin would start begging to come, admitting to progressively kinkier fantasies, but instead the truth tumbled out. “Touch me. Oh, God, touch me please.”