Series: Torn and Bound Duet Series by K. Webster
Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“I want to fuck you so badly,” he murmurs against my lips, as he reaches between us and fists our cocks. I kiss his mouth, suck on his neck, I lick each of his nipples as he rubs our dicks together, the mixture of water and precum creating the perfect friction to set us both off.
As we come together, our hot seed smearing across both our stomachs, I kiss him hard, not wanting our connection to end. Never wanting it to end.
When our dicks go soft, and we’re completely spent, Brayden drops his head and kisses the side of my neck. Then his lips meet mine one more time, his tongue invading my mouth in the most delicious way before he retreats, falling back into the hot tub and pulling me along with him.
“I’m not sure Ashton would appreciate us cleaning our cum off in his hot tub,” I joke, caging Brayden against the wall of the hot tub.
Brayden snorts. “On the contrary, he’d probably welcome it.”
We both laugh, but it’s forced because we know what we’re doing—living in denial, ignoring the reality of our situation a little longer. The problem is, denying the truth doesn’t change the facts, and the fact is… what happened tonight, while insignificant, changed everything.
“Fuck, my head is pounding,” Brayden complains from somewhere in the room, as he rifles through the luggage. I’m too hungover to even respond, so I don’t. After we got done in the hot tub last night, we came up here and spent the next few hours drinking and fucking around.
“Hey, are any of these pills for headaches?” he asks. It takes a second for his words to sink in, but once they do, I’m fully awake.
“No.” I climb out of bed and take the daily pill organizer from him. “I’m sure there’s some in a cabinet somewhere. I’ll go look.” I shove the container back into my luggage, ignoring the way Brayden is watching me with curiosity. I pull on a pair of clean boxers and pad out of the room to go find him some pain pills—as well as ignore more of that reality shit neither of us wants to deal with.
As I descend the stairs, I can hear Mia’s moans. What the hell time is it? Do they ever come up for air? I swear the man lives inside of her.
I swing open each cabinet, until I find what I’m looking for. I pop two into my mouth and chase them down with some water, then pour Brayden a cup and bring them up to him.
“Thanks.” He’s dressed now in a pair of worn jeans and a long-sleeved Henley, a beanie on his head. “Are they up yet?” he asks, referring to Mia and Ashton.
“Yeah, they’re fucking like rabbits.”
Brayden snorts a laugh. “You want to take the golf cart over to the main resort and get breakfast? They can meet us over there later.” During our tour last night, Ashton showed us the golf cart in the garage and said it’s used to drive around when it’s not snowing too badly.
“Yeah,” I tell him, excited to spend the day out in public with my boyfriend. “That sounds perfect.”
After I brush my teeth and get dressed, we head out. It’s beautiful out here today. The sun is shining, helping to counter the chill in the air. When we arrive at the resort, we park and find the restaurant that serves breakfast.
“Two, please,” Brayden tells the hostess. She smiles warmly and walks us back to our seats. There are four and I choose the one directly next to Brayden since I can. He grins at me and takes my hand in his, bringing it up to his lips to kiss. It’s new, getting to kiss and touch in public, and I’m worried when we get home, we’ll both miss it… crave it. We still have another six months before we can be seen in public together back home, and then, will Brayden want to? His plan is to join the NHL. Will he want to impact his career by coming out as gay before it even starts? I’d like to say the world is more open to gay players, but the truth is, humanity still has a long way to go.
“You okay?” Brayden asks, squeezing my hand.
“Yeah.” I shake off my pessimistic thoughts and push them into that corner of reality we’re refusing to acknowledge.
The waitress comes over and I order us each an eggs benedict meal with a side of home fries, two coffees, and waters. We spend breakfast talking about the slopes we plan to hit. Growing up, every winter my dad would take us skiing and snowboarding. That is until we stopped talking just before high school. I still went with my dad twice more before he died, but it wasn’t the same without Bray.