Page 32 of Killer Honeymoon
Sawyer continued to draw out Royce’s pleasure, stopping when it became apparent Royce was teetering toward climax, and a sheen of sweat coated his skin. Royce wanted to be irritated about his delayed gratification, but the stunning sunrise combined with Sawyer’s wicked mouth was an experience he’d remember for eternity.
“It’s coming,” Royce said when the curve of the sun broke the horizon. “And so will I if—” His words died suddenly as a shadowy figure drifted across the horizon. “That better be a damn ghost.”
Sawyer jerked his head up and looked out the doors. “I don’t see anything.”
Royce swung his legs over the bed and reached for a pair of shorts on the floor. Maybe he wouldn’t have been on high alert if his neighbors hadn’t been such douche nozzles and he hadn’t watchedPatriot Gamesbefore bedtime. He had no problem going Harrison Ford on those fuckers.
“Where are you going?” Sawyer asked indignantly. It was the first—and most likely the last—time Royce would choose to investigate potential danger over the ecstasy of his husband’s mouth.
“Shhh. Keep your voice down.” Royce motioned for Sawyer to stay in bed as he crept toward the open door in his bare feet. “I’m going to catch the assholes in the act.”
Sheets rustled behind Royce, followed by two softthumps as Sawyer’s feet hit the ground. Royce rolled his eyes and bit back a chuckle. Of course, Sawyer wouldn’t stay back while Royce investigated suspicious activity. He wouldn’t have listened either.
“What exactly did you see?” Sawyer whispered in his ear. Royce jerked in surprise at how quietly and stealthily Sawyer caught up to him. Then he glanced down the length of his husband’s body and saw he hadn’t stopped to pull on a pair of shorts or underwear. Sawyer seemed oblivious to his erection pointing due north.
“Hey,” Royce whispered. “You might want to put on some shorts.”
Sawyer looked down the length of his body and smiled up at Royce. “Nah.”
Royce arched a brow. His husband was full of surprises. Was Sawyer a closet exhibitionist? Royce dismissed the notion as quickly as it arrived. No one was more open and honest than his husband. He’d know if that was one of his kinks.
Sawyer scanned the horizon. “What exactly did you see?”
“Something glided across the horizon. It started there,” Royce said, pointing to the right. “Then it moved this way. Whoever or whatever it is wasn’t on foot. Not human ones, anyway.”
“Glided or sailed?” Sawyer asked. “It might’ve been someone out on the lake early. Some fishermen and kayakers like to get an early start.”
“What idiot would be out on the water before the sun is fully out?” Royce asked.
“Son of a bitch.” A gruff voice came from the shadows. Royce’s eyes widened when he recognized the voice, which came from the direction of the long pier about fifty yards away. “I’m getting too old for this shit,” Frank grumbled.
“What the hell is he doing?” Royce asked Sawyer.
“He’s one of the early morning kayakers. He’s heading home after his morning exercise.”
Royce scowled. “At his age?”
“Shh,” Sawyer said. “Frank will hear you and decide you need a lecture on the toughness of the islanders.” Sawyer shoved his hand down Royce’s shorts and gripped his now semierect cock. “Or I can finish what I started. Up to you.”
Royce shucked his shorts down his legs and returned to the bed. Sawyer stood in the doorway, his lean body a gorgeous silhouette with the early dawn light as his backdrop. The peachy sunrise caressed Sawyer’s naturally tan skin, making it glow. “Holy hell, you’re beautiful. Stay right there.”
Royce should’ve reached for his phone, but instead, he went for his revived erection. He slowly stroked himself while describing the world as it came alive around them.
“Don’t you dare come without me,” Sawyer said.
“Better get over here, then.”
Sawyer stepped forward and paused only long enough to shut the double doors, proving he wasn’t an exhibitionist. Instead of resuming his original position, Sawyer urged Royce down lower in the bed and straddled his face before leaning over Royce’s length to blow him. Sawyer had edged Royce too many times that morning, so it didn’t take long to get him off. Not one to be outdone, Royce switched things up and rimmed Sawyer’s sweet pucker while jacking him off.
Once they were both sated, they cleaned up, made breakfast, and developed a game plan. The sun was entirely up by the time they took their second mugs of coffee onto the back deck. Sawyer took one look at the blue skies and said, “A big storm is brewing.” He pivoted back around and headed into the house.
Royce followed him at a more leisurely pace. “Come on,” he protested. “I’ve never seen skies so blue. What storm?”
“I can feel the change in the air, not to mention the wind direction.” When Royce expressed doubt again, Sawyer pointed out the wall of windows. “See those cumulus clouds?” Sawyer asked.
“The ones that look like a cluster of puffy cotton balls?”
“Yep,” Sawyer replied as he rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a notebook and pen. “You’re good to go when the clouds are low puffs floating across the sky. Trouble comes when they bulk up, form clusters, and grow vertically.” Sawyer looked over at him. “Right now, they’re little puff balls, but eventually, they’re going to resemble my mom’s mashed potatoes.”