“Hey, Trey,” he calls out, pulling my attention.
“Huh?” I turn around to see him hold his phone up.
“Smile,” he says nonchalantly.
My lips turn up easily as he snaps the picture, and just as he moves to slide his phone away, I call out to him.
“Come here.”
He drags my suitcase with him until he’s in front of me and I grab his phone from his other hand. He lets me have it, but his eyebrows furrow. “What are you—”
I slide one arm around his shoulders and pull him close to my side. He stumbles, not expecting the movement, which makes him fall against me. He braces himself, planting one hand on my chest as the suitcase falls over. His palm is hot. So hot, I feel it through my pullover. A few small flurries dance in the air as I tighten my grip on him and use my other hand to hold the phone out in front of us.
“Smile,” I say, glancing at the camera.
His hand fists in my pullover as he steadies himself and leans against me, his blondish brown hair tickling my jaw. I take a fewshots before he pushes himself off me and tells me that I don’t need six pictures of the same thing.
I beg to differ, because as I scroll through every photo, I swear you can see his gaze shift from the camera to me the same way mine shifts to him.
Once inside, it all hits me. My designer had sent me a few photos, but they didn’t do it justice. I check the fridge and just like she said it would be, it’s full. The pantry’s stocked too. Pots and pans hang on the rack above the island. Plates and bowls are stacked in the cabinets, along with all types of glasses.
I wander around the open-concept living room as Hudson pokes around the kitchen, looking at the food. I find the note from my designer on the coffee table, next to a couple remotes, including one for the fireplace. I turn it on, grinning when it lights up instantly and casts a gorgeous glow on the room.
I hear Hudson approach me from behind and I turn to look at him.
“So, uh… do you want the house tour?” I ask, my smile widening.
Hudson stalks closer to me with a smirk.
“Nope,” he says, his presence forcing me to back up a bit toward the oversized armchair. Seriously, it’shuge.I swear you can fit two people on this thing.
“Hudson…” I say, watching his gaze shift to something darker. “What are you doing?”
He shakes his head as I stop against the edge of the chair, my knees hitting the cushion. I brace my hand on the arm. At this angle, all I can see is the giant Christmas tree which is as tall as the damn window and blocks out most of it. The amber glow of the fire casts shadows on his form and he’s no longer in his coat.
“Don’t overthink it,” he says as he settles a hand on my hip and pushes me back. I fall into the chair with ease, going down with a soft thud.
I scoot back in the chair, giving him ample room as he lowers himself down, the motion making him look like a damn lion stalking its prey.
And that’s when I realize that’sexactlywhat he’s doing.
I glance up at him with a stupid grin. My hands find his hips as I pull him down on top of me and he comes down quickly, straddling me.
Before I can say a word, his lips crash against mine, one hand already deftly working at popping the button on my pants and I’m more than impressed that he manages to not only unbutton and unzip me with one hand, but finds my cock through the slit of my boxers without any fumbling at all.
He told me he doesn’t have any experience with men, and I don’t either, but I swear Hudson touches me with such precision, it’s like he knowsexactlywhat he’s doing.
“I missed you,” he rasps out.
“Hudson…” I groan, my cock hardening as his mouth slowly moves against mine, as his tongue slides into my mouth with equal hunger. I thrust myself up against him, needing to feel the friction. Needing to feel the release.
Needing to feelhim.
My hands slide down his hips, over his ass. I pull him a little closer, my fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants and his tight underwear. My palm brushes over his ass and I squeeze it, loving the firmness and how my nails dig into his skin. I push him against me as I grind against him faster. My heart catches in my throat as he wraps his hand around my cock, the tip of his finger pressing against my slit as a fresh bout of precum blooms at my cockhead.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, his voice husky and stern.
I shake my head vigorously.
