Hans Larsson

"Does this mean I have to get cash out later?" Rekker has to stifle a laugh because that is sincerely just a harassment. He knows that isn't what is happening but teasing about it is fun.

Those nails got a loud gasp and held breath before it came out as a moan. Those nails felt so good tearing into his skin. He wanted to fall asleep covered in bloody rakes all over his body.

"No." He let go of Bjorn's hair to get both hands on his ass. "Everyone on this street is going to hear you scream like a fucking whore."

And he want the Swede. In a show of raw strength he stood, picking the singer up and laying him out on the edge of the tub where his feet could dangle into the hot water if he wanted them too. It put the Brit between his legs, hard cock shoving against the silky skin of the blonde's inner thighs. All that ginger hair falling on Bjorn as he started kissing at his collar bone and across his chest, the Brit's calloused hands pinning Bjorn's hips down.