Page 28 of The Humbug Holiday

What started as a powerful connection often left me feeling unbearably small and inadequate, knowing I’d never be what any of those partners needed. Sex with me wasn’t going to save your soul or change your life no matter how much I wished for it.

But this felt different. I didn’t want to look away. I didn’t want to wrangle for a position change. I had no doubt he’d happily comply with a nasty “get behind me and fuck my ass” request, however…it wasn’t necessary. This—right here, right now, was perfect. So fucking perfect.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, and lifted my hips to meet his first thrust. And his second.

Cameron’s breath hitched as he bent to seal his mouth over mine. He never stopped moving…slow and steady, sweet yet with the right amount of dirty. He kissed then bit, pulled out gently and rocked my world, driving the momentum to a whole new level. No kidding. The bedsprings squeaked in protest when he rose above me, pistoning his hips like a jackhammer. He anchored me with one hand on my chest while the other stroked me to oblivion.

I was covered in sweat—his and mine. My heart raced and my limbs felt like jelly, but I didn’t want this to end. The thing was…I had minimal control here. He was running this show, and he was damn good at it. I held on tight when he bent to lick my lips and whispered, “You ready to come? Tell me you want it. Go on.”

“Y-yes. Fuck, yes,” I panted.

“Good boy.”

That was it for me. Two fucking words that, frankly, should have made me laugh…actually made me come.Good boy.Christ, I was easy or crazy. I couldn’t decide.

Not that it mattered. I was too busy falling into a million pieces. I came like a geyser, shooting cum in an impressive arc across his fist and onto my stomach. My vision blurred for a beat, but I didn’t miss his fevered cry as he gave in to his orgasm. He bucked and shuddered before collapsing on top of me in a graceless heap.

We eventually untangled ourselves and wordlessly cleaned up, taking turns in the bathroom. My clothes were everywhere. I thought I’d lost my shirt downstairs, but I wasn’t sure. I decided to gather what I could in his room, backtrack, and get the fuck out.

Don’t get me wrong, it didn’t feel awkward…yet, but that could change on a dime, and I really didn’t do well with awkward. A little distance went a long way to restoring some semblance of normal.

I picked up my discarded boxer briefs and gave him a quick smile as I stepped into them. “I’ll leave my tools in the hallway and finish the porch in the morning. They’re safe, but not fully secure. I’ll take care of that in—”

“Stay.”

I snapped the elastic on my briefs and scowled. “Stay? Where? What are you talking about?”

Cameron’s answering grin was wide and disarming as fuck. He pinched my ass and sidled by me, flopping onto his pillow. He patted the rumpled sheets as he rolled to face me.

“I’m talking about hanging out together. Clothing optional.”

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

Nothing came to mind. Except… “You called me ‘good boy.’ It’s the second time you’ve done that. I can’t do the naked hang-out thing with someone who calls me a good boy. It’s weird.”

Cameron threw his head back and guffawed. “What if I promise to only call you that in bed?”

I set my hands on my hips, studying his mussed salt-and-pepper hair, twinkling eyes, and the sexy thatch of hair on his toned pecs. And Lord help me, I wanted him all over again. I wasn’t sure what to do with the sappy, affectionate feeling blossoming in my chest, so I frowned a little harder.

“Hmph.”

“C’mere, Joe.”

I tried to think of at least one of the reasons I’d thought staying was a bad idea, but his crooked smile dared me to let my defenses down…at least for the night.

I ambled toward him, pausing at the edge of the mattress. “Fine, but don’t ask me what my fuckin’ favorite color is, and no footsies.”

He snickered. “Deal.”

6

Cameron

Joe spent the night. The whole night.

I assumed he’d leave around nine o’clock to sleep in his own bed or that I’d gently remind him I was actually supposed to be writing. But he seemed comfortable, and I couldn’t remember ever feeling so…relaxed with a lover. I didn’t feel like researching vicious killers or losing myself in a world of intrigue and suspense. The only mystery I wanted to tackle was Joe. Literally and figuratively.