The food on the cart grew cold as Carlos stripped out of his clothes and joined Andy in the bed. His skin looked dark against Andy’s pale flesh, and his uncut c**k jutted from the black curls at his crotch, the ruddy tip pointing Andy’s way. There was a box of condoms in Andy’s top drawer—he’d packed them in anticipation of the “good time” Palmer assured him he’d have, and thanked God he hadn’t thrown them out after he bombed at the bar the night before. Rearranging his pillows onto the side of the bed, Andy leaned over them, ass in the air, legs spread in invitation, as Carlos pulled on a condom. For a few moments, Andy waited, patient, his d**k already hardening against the pillows in anticipation of s*x.
Then he heard Carlos grunt behind him, and he looked over one shoulder, concerned.
