Page 1 of The Cocky for Cody (Mulligan’s Mill)

brOOKS

“It’s my first time,” I whispered. “You promise you’ll be gentle?”

Cody’s lips were close to my ear, his breath warm against my neck, his body pressed hard against my back.

I could feel the pounding of my boyfriend’s heart, the strength of his muscled arms as they enveloped me.

I shuddered with the delight at the sensation of his hardening crotch grinding against my ass as he uttered in that spellbinding Australian accent of his, “Brace yourself, babe. Are you ready?”

Anxiously I inhaled and held my breath.

“On the count of three,” he said, gritting his teeth in anticipation. “One…”

I released the air in my lungs. “Wait.”

“Two…”

“Wait, wait, wait!”

“What is it?”

“Are you going to push on the count of three?”

“That’s normally how this works.” There was that hint of Aussie sarcasm I both loved and hated.

“But wait,” I said. “Just to clarify, are you pushing on three… or after three?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, is it one, two, push? Or one, two, three, push?”

“It’s one, two, push, otherwise it’d be on the count of four. Nobody counts to four. Now can we please get this over and done with?”

“Okay, okay.”

“On the count of three. One… two…”

With a heave and a strained “three!” Cody forced himself down upon me with all his weight. A guttural growl escaped through his clenched teeth as his muscled body crushed the air out of my lungs.

“Oh, God,” I gasped. “I don’t think it’s going to fit.”

“Yes it will! Keep trying!”

“Ah… shit… aahhhh!” I cried out, gripped by a piercing pain.

“What is it?” he said, his breath labored. “Are you okay?”

“I think… I think it’s…”

“It’s what?”

“A shoe!” I winced.

“A shoe?”

“It’s jabbing into my ribs through the top of the suitcase. I knew I should have bought one with the hard casing. Cody, you need to get off me!”

“No, we can do this. Just pull the damn zip.” He leaned himself harder against me, squishing me between himself and the suitcase lid.

“Cody, we’re going to break it! Ow, ow, ow!”

“What is it now?”

“I think one of my coat hangers is about to stab me in the chest.”

“You packed coat hangers? Why the fuck did you pack coat hangers? You do know we have those in Australia, right? What did I tell you about overpacking?”

“This is not the time for lectures. Now would you please get off me?”

“Jesus, all right then.” With one last grunt, Cody rolled off me onto the floor.

Panting strenuously, I rolled off too, landing on my back beside him, and the suitcase lid rose as though it could breathe easy once more, having won the first round of a game I liked to call “How to Close the Suitcase from Hell.”

We were in the bedroom of my tiny apartment in the steeple above Brooks’ Nook, an old church that I had transformed into the bookstore of my dreams several years earlier.

It was my safe space, my refuge, my perfect storybook tower where I spent most of my days.

That is, until the man of my dreams—freelance travel writer Cody Cameron, who grew up on an island near the Great Barrier Reef—wandered into my life and stole my heart.

Sure, we were complete opposites. He was carefree and courageous, ready to throw himself headfirst into the next adventure, his skin tanned and his big, scruffy head of raven-black hair constantly wild and windswept.

Me on the other hand, I was the ultimate nerd.

A snarky, circumspect, bow tie-wearing, literature-loving loner who had always been content to curl up with a good book rather than a good man.

Until Cody came along, that is.

When that happened, that boy from Down Under turned my world upside down… in the best possible way. Somehow we just clicked, our love for the written word bridging any chasm that might threaten to keep us apart.

Of course, the attraction of opposites does not come without its fair share of disagreements.

“I thought we agreed we were going to pack light. Rule number one of long-haul travel: always pack light.” Apparently Cody wasn’t finished lecturing me yet. “We’re only going for a week. You need one pair of shorts, a pair of boots for hiking, some thongs…”

“Wait a minute, you want me to wear a thong on this trip?”

“Thongs! You know, flip-flops. The type that slide between your toes… not your arse cheeks. Pack some thongs, three T-shirts, and enough undies to get you through, and that’s it.

No bow ties, no fancy shoes, and definitely no coat hangers!

” He sat up and made a grandiose gesture toward his small backpack sitting zipped up and ready to go by the bedroom door. “I give you Exhibit A.”

“Objection. You’ve done this a million times, of course you’re good at it. But like I keep telling you, this is my first time out of the country. I want to be prepared for anything.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. A freakish change of weather, maybe. What if I suddenly need thermal underwear and earmuffs?”

“We’re going to North Queensland. It’s bloody hot. End of sentence.”

“What if a baby vomits all over my suitcase and half my clothes end up smelling like baby sick?”

“Baby? What baby?”

“The baby on the plane. There’s always a screaming baby on every plane.”

“Not in the cargo hold there’s not, which is where your suitcase will be. Safe from harm and baby spew.”

“What if it’s not safe from harm? What if the baggage handlers throw it around and drop it and the zipper pops open and all my underwear falls out on the tarmac and gets sucked up into a plane’s engine?”

“Okay, now you’re really overthinking things.

” He helped me up off the floor and we sat together on my bed.

“Babe, I know you’re feeling a little uptight about this trip.

We all know that stepping outside your comfort zone is a big ask.

But you have to trust me on this one. If you pack too much stuff you’ll regret it.

Traveling light is the only way to go. What you don’t pack, you won’t miss, I promise you. ”

I looked down at my overstuffed suitcase and threw my hands up in defeat. “But where do I draw the line? I mean, if I pack just one Emily Bronte novel, I might as well pack them all.”

“Can’t you just load a bunch of books onto your phone?”

I gasped in horror. “Oh, the humanity! I hope you realize every person who’s ever sniffed the pages of a freshly printed book like it was a soft cuddly puppy is wishing a plague on your house right now.”

“Fuck, I hope it’s not a plague of cane toads. I’ve been overrun by the ugly bastards once before. It was not a pretty sight, let me tell ya.”

“Wait. What? Are you telling me the house we’ll be staying in—”

“Well, it’s more a beach shack.”

“That the beach shack we’re staying in is prone to an infestation of toads?”

“Don’t worry, they’re not deadly. Well, only if you lick them, which I wouldn’t recommend doing. No, it’s all the other creatures you have to worry about.”

“I thought we were going to an island paradise?”

“We are… Maggie Island.” I’d already figured out that “Maggie” was the islanders’ nickname for Magnetic Island. “It’s bloody gorgeous. Unfortunately it’s also home to stingers, sharks, crocs, and the biggest population of death adders in all of Australia.”

“Death adders? Is that some sort of snake?”

“Yeah. Kinda fat and stripy, not that you need to know what they look like. They tend to hide under the sand, completely out of sight. You won’t know you’ve stepped on one till it bites you on the ankle.

Then it’s quick sticks to the hospital before paralysis and respiratory failure sets in.

But no need to get all panicky, you’ve got at least six hours before all your organs shut down completely. ”

Abruptly I stood from the bed. “Forget it. I’ve changed my mind.

You can go visit Skull Island all by yourself, thanks very much.

Clearly you know how to handle yourself.

You’ve avoided shuffling off your mortal coil for this long, so clearly you’re doing something right.

As for this lily-livered little bookstore owner, I think I’m quite happy staying right here in Mulligan’s Mill.

We all know I prefer to keep my death-defying adventures at arm’s length… in the pages of a novel.”

Cody responded with a playful pout. “Aw, come on, babe. You’re gonna be just fine. I’ll keep you safe, don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll fight off all the killer creatures, no matter how big or small.” He hooked my hand and pulled me close, and I let him.

“Including the death adders hiding in the sand?” I asked, pouting playfully myself now.

Cody grinned. “If you get bitten by a snake, I’ll suck every last drop of poison out of you.

” He gave my hand a good yank, pulled me onto my back on the bed, then straddled me with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Although if I’m gonna have to suck that hard, I should probably get some practice in. ”

He unbuckled my belt.

“Cody, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He unzipped my pants and my cock twitched to attention inside the cotton of my boxer shorts.

“Cody, we don’t have time for this. Our flight’s this afternoon and I have to repack my bag.”

He yanked my trousers down. “Relax, babe. Rule number two of long-haul travel: never get on a plane horny. The mile-high club is not what it’s cracked up to be. Have you seen how small the toilets on a plane are?”

“Well…” I caved way too easily, “I wouldn’t want to ignore all your good travel advice.”

He grinned. “Wise decision.”

With that he jerked my underwear down the length of my thighs…

He took my suddenly aching cock in his firm grip…

And slowly he lowered his handsome, smiling face.