Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
“I’m gonna kiss you, Moody.”
“Yes.”
He fused his mouth to mine, tilting his chin as he drove his tongue between my lips.
I was now officially on the verge of combustion. I tugged at his neck and deepened the connection. We were consumed in a tangle of tongues, nibbling lips, and furtive stroking. It was so good, but I needed to be closer.
I hiked my left leg over his…or attempted to. My feet were trapped in my khakis. I lost my balance and knocked Hudson onto the sofa, nearly toppling onto the floor. Perhaps that should have taken some of the wind out of our sails, but um…no. The momentum shift launched us into a new sphere of horny humping.
We released our cocks in favor of rutting like animals. Hudson cupped my ass cheeks to hold them in place while he pumped his shaft alongside mine and sucked on my tongue. He felt so good and I was so…close.
Too close.
I whimpered, frantically breaking the kiss.
“You’re gonna come,” he guessed. “Yeah, do it. Come for me. I got you.”
That was all it took. I fell apart quite spectacularly, spurting cum on his cock and balls…and possibly the hem of his sweater. He kneaded my flesh as I trembled and shook in the aftermath. And he kissed me—long, sweet pulls of his tongue that were almost tender. I melted in his arms, making love to his mouth as I slowly morphed into a puddle of goo.
And yes, it was a testament to how out of practice I was that I didn’t immediately realize that the poor guy still had a gigantic boner.
I scrambled off him, wincing when my knee hit the floor with a thump. “Ow.”
“Where’d you go?” Hudson sat up with a laugh, his erection still pointing proudly at the ceiling. And just like that, I knew what to do. I reached for him and shoved my head in his lap. “You don’t have to—oh, fuck. Oh, yeah. That’s it.”
Now, I admit, I was rusty at the art of fellatio. And yes, I considered it an art. There was a difference between sloppy sucking and knowing how to apply the right amount of pressure to stimulate a lover and—
Okay, fine. I sucked him like a gosh-darn Hoover. I wouldn’t claim it was my best work…not by a long shot, but he seemed pleased.
Hudson held my head in his hands and lifted his hips in a silent request for more. I complied, bobbing double time till he yanked at my hair in warning. I ignored him and seconds later, I was rewarded.
I swallowed everything he gave me, then sat on my heels and wiped the corner of my mouth. Hudson’s chest heaved as he leaned forward and grabbed my chin, thrusting his tongue inside.
It was nasty and crude, and that was before I remembered the window shades were open and anyone on a boat with a pair of powerful binoculars could see us.
This was…so naughty. And so liberating.
“What a terrible idea this was. I loved it,” I gushed, hopping to my feet and grabbing a napkin from the side table to wipe the mess we’d made.
Hudson chuckled. “Me too. I—where are you going?”
“Home.”
He frowned. “Now?”
“Yes, now.”
“Okay. Um…” Hudson struggled to sit up. “I’m busy all day tomorrow, but I’ll see you next time I’m in town. If that’s cool.”
I inclined my chin. “Yes, of course.”
“Great. I think I’ll be back in December too, and—”
“No.”
“No?”
I redressed, straightening my soiled shirt as I shook my head. “No, I’m not at my best in December, but perhaps January.”
“January,” he repeated, zipping his jeans.
I smiled. “That’s correct. If you don’t return to California or you do come and decide not to visit me, I’ll understand. I want to thank you most earnestly for your…I suppose we’ll call it friendship. Hospitality works too. You’re a good man, Hudson Babineaux. I wish you a happy and healthful—”
“What if I’m here in December?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Let’s hope our paths don’t cross. Now, as my Spanish friends say, ‘Adios, amigo.’ ”
And with that, I opened the door, tripped over the threshold, and almost took out the housekeeper standing nearby with fresh towels for turn-down service. I apologized profusely, braving one last glance at Hudson leaning against the jamb with his arms crossed, looking deliciously disheveled and utterly dreamy.
I allowed myself the briefest moment of longing.
If Christmas were real, I’d ask Santa for a Hudson-sized gift, no ribbons required. But I knew better than most that real life didn’t care about the date on a calendar.
6
HUDSON
December
“Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” blasted from the speakers of the brand-new pickup truck I’d purchased ten minutes after the ink had dried on the contract I’d signed with Oak Ridge Ranch. I glanced at the ocean in my rearview mirror and sang along at the top of my lungs. Man, what a difference a change of scenery made.