Tastes Like Sugar (Collier’s Creek Christmas)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

SULLY

I accept my second beer with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“All good. Are you ready to order?”

I cast another brief glance at the menu, the name Jake’s Tap sprawled on the top. It’s fairly limited, but from the plates I’ve seen brought out of the kitchen, everything looks and smells incredible. “I’ll grab the burger and homemade fries, please.”

“Good choice. It won’t be long.” The bartender offers me an up-nod before he heads away to take another order. I track his movements for a few seconds simply as something to do, a distraction more than anything deeper.

Not that he isn’t attractive, but I’m pretty sure he’s got something going with the guy propping up the other end of the bar. The dark-haired man has barely taken his gaze off the bartender. The times he has, it’s to shoot people the stink eye.

Getting on someone’s shit list, especially since I need to decide whether to accept the job offer in this small country town, is the last thing I want. Collier’s Creek, from what I’ve seen and from the stories my sister’s told me, is pretty close-knit.

All it takes is one asshole to spin bullshit that makes the world you’ve built come tumbling down. Life has taught me that. The asshole I’m referring to is my ex, who’s also someone I used to work with.

The moral of that particular story is don’t mix work with pleasure. Okay, so there’s a second moral too. That one is don’t fall for pricks who think it’s fun to make false promises, offer you a ring and commitment, only to then fall on someone else’s dick the very same day.

Add in a steady buildup of gaslighting and ding, ding, ding , we have a winner.

Talk about a wake-up call.

At forty-seven, I’m over the bullshit. Over the drama.

I’m over big-city living, which is the reason six months after all that went down in San Francisco, I clung to my sister’s suggestion to stay in the small studio above her garage in this ridiculously cute town until I figured things out.

After just eight days, I scored a job interview and an offer that actually has me excited. Truthfully, I don’t really have that much to think about. The position feels serendipitous.

For one, as the only administrator—technically the office manager—I won’t get caught up in dick-measuring contests or have to live with my guard up to protect myself from backstabbers. This is a giant drawcard. The second is one that completely blew my mind. While the initial interview was conducted by the lead administrator, Jeremy, from the government office in Cheyenne, and the person I would be replacing—a woman called Marge who’s desperate to retire—the captain of the Collier’s Creek fire station was then brought in. Since I’d be directly working for them, under their command, it made sense.

And the mind-blown part?

Captain Zoey Jackson. When she’d stepped into the room, I’d done a double take, as did Marge and Jeremy when Zoey gave me a giant hug.

The world is a funny place and sometimes a small one.

While Zoey hadn’t lived in San Francisco for long, our paths had crossed during the Pride parade about ten or so years back, and we’d been good friends until we’d lost touch when she’d moved away. To Collier’s Creek, apparently.

And for the first time in what seems like years, I feel like I can take in a lungful of air and truly breathe. That alone tells me I’d been treading water in SF and had become tired of the game before I’d been ready to admit it.

Sure, Collier’s Creek has clean air, and the town’s idea of god-awful traffic is when three cars have to wait one minute when a moose decides to cross the road, gets spooked, and rams a pickup truck before bolting—which legit happened three days ago. But there’s more to it than my ability to breathe better.

I take a long pull of my beer, appreciating the crisp tang.

Laughter catches my attention, and a smile tugs at my lips when I see a burly man dot a sweet kiss on another guy’s forehead before he holds his hand.

Yeah, this place is helping to cleanse my soul or something. I think I need that.

The “Hey, Tad” directed at the bartender from my other side surprises me.

I jerk and grab hold of the bar top to stop myself from falling off my stool. A warm hand on my arm stops the final wobble.

“Shit, you okay?” the man with the deep voice asks.

I relax my grip and release a soft chuckle. “Almost got me.” I turn toward the younger guy at my side. As I do, he releases me, leaving a trace of warmth behind. My gaze lands on a smiling mouth, the smirk a little crooked, as though he’s not sure if he should be concerned or laughing with me. I flick my attention farther up, my mouth turning instantly dry at the thirst trap of a man before me.

Thirst trap? Jesus, is that even what people say anymore? Hell, perhaps they never even did. Thank fuck mind-reading abilities don’t exist. If they did, his crooked smile that’s becoming more amused by my wide-eyed stare definitely wouldn’t be directed my way.

A guy like this, all wide shoulders, broad chest, and a full head of hair that’s many years away from receding, wouldn’t even entertain the possibility of?—

I stop myself short. The last thing I need to do is think about sex while in a bar full of strangers. Sure, if this were a club and that were the scene, I would drink my fill. But this bar definitely isn’t that.

What this is is him still staring at me.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for the save,” I respond quickly, figuring he’s just waiting for me to remember how to speak after eyeing him for so long.

“That’s a relief.”

“One burger and fries.”

My gaze snaps to the same bartender and then to the plate of food that he sets down. “Thanks.”

“All good. There’s a booth that just opened if you want to grab it,” Tad offers, dipping his head in the direction behind me.

“Oh.” I angle that way and realize no one else is eating at the bar. “Sure, thanks.” I pick up my plate as Tad focuses on the guy who I’m sure rarely eats a pile of grease-filled food. And if he did, from the way his muscles fill out his long-sleeved T-shirt, I suspect he spends an unholy amount of time in the gym.

“Hayes, what’ll it be?”

Hayes. I risk a glance at him, finding his attention on me before I look away and head to the open booth. That has to be his last name, right? Back when I was a teenager, my friends used to call me Sully. Sure, Tom’s a solid name, but my younger self thought shortening my last name from Sullivan to Sully was the coolest thing ever.

That nickname was quickly ousted by corporate when I got my first job.

I settle in the booth, wondering when it was I became so white collar and why, oh fucking why, I thought I enjoyed the rat race.

In the three different companies I worked for over the years, I was far from the top dog, nor was I a seven-figure executive like one of my previous bosses. But at some point, I’d bought into the whole fast-paced world, where it was all about who you wore and who you fucked and who you could get ahead of.

The friendly chatter drifting around me is nothing like I’ve experienced in the last few years. It’s not even like I have anyone to blame for that other than myself.

Not taking the job here would be foolish. The more I think about it, the more certain I am.

It’s less money than I’ve earned in years, almost a quarter less, in fact, but I’m also lucky that I bought a condo when I was just twenty-five—with the support of my parents—and sold it for a profit (thanks to the crazy house-price increase over the past twenty years), which takes the pressure off.

Mom inherited a house from her great-aunt, and because I have kick-ass parents (both are thankfully enjoying life in a retirement village a town over, having moved to be closer to my sister in their golden years), they split the funds from the sale of the house between me and my sister. Hence the reason I was lucky enough to afford a place in San Francisco and sell it so quickly a couple of weeks back.

I take a big bite of my burger. With light spices and tender beef, the combination is delicious. As is the grease I should really be trying to avoid.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll make sure I go for a walk. A run would be better, but the last time I ran, I was in my twenties, and even then, it was probably because I was late for work. My jeans have jumped up at least two sizes since then, and while I’m not 100 percent okay with that, it’s something I made peace with years ago.

Or as much as a guy can when in the company of fitter men.

But I really should be more heart-aware—at least according to my sister. Despite that, I take another bite of the burger, my shoulders relaxing at the flavor and the overall contentment over a successful day.

A presence has me pausing from taking another bite. My gaze lands on the same broad chest I spent a little too long admiring earlier before it travels higher.

Those same bright, slightly amused twinkling eyes meet mine.

“Mind if I join you?”

My brows shoot high.

“It’s busy tonight. Thought it would make sense to fill up the empty seat if that’s okay?”

“Sure,” I say with a nod, taking Hayes in as he places his thick jacket on the padded bench before settling his tall frame in. I return his smile, then have no clue what to do next.

Do I just take another huge mouthful of my burger, or do I make polite conversation? During the past six months—even before that, if I’m honest with myself—I’ve been a bit hermit-like. But being tired of the scene, tired of being taken for a fool by my ex, who lied when he said he wanted a monogamous relationship, meant moments like this—a couple of beers and a burger in a bar—were me having a “big night.”

“Please, don’t let your food go cold. Tad’s bringing me the same meal in—Here he is now.”

Tad places the piled plate, complete with a basket of onion rings, on the table. “Enjoy,” he says before returning straight back to the bar.

This Hayes guy wasn’t exaggerating about how full Jake’s Tap is. This is the first time I’ve been, so I have no idea if this is normal for a Thursday night or not.

“Thanks, Tad,” Hayes calls to the bartender’s retreating form, pulling my attention back to him. “The name’s Hayes.” He reaches out.

I quickly place my burger down, wipe my hands on the napkin, and shake his hand. “Sully.” The name’s out before I second-guess or even question it.

His smile brightens. “Good to meet you. Now”—he indicates toward my food—“don’t hold back on my account.” Unceremoniously, he picks up his burger and takes a large bite. I follow suit.

“I haven’t seen you in Jake’s before,” he says after swallowing his mouthful of food.

I shake my head. “First time here.”

“It was a good choice for food. The menu’s fairly simple, but I’ve never not had a good feed here.” He smiles before chewing on a fry.

“Well, this burger’s definitely hitting the spot.”

He nods before saying, “You’re not from around here, then? Just passing through?”

“No, and I’m not too sure yet.”

Hayes studies me, his gaze roaming my face before dipping lower. My brows shoot high. Is he checking me out? Straight guys don’t look at other men quite this way.

Heat forms in my stomach. I let it simmer, not wanting to douse the flame of possibility just yet.

Will I be disappointed if I’m setting myself up for rejection? Maybe a little, but also fuck it.

Today’s been such a good day—why not push my luck a little and see where it gets me? A cock in my mouth or my ass are pretty spectacular options.

When his attention returns to my face and he reads my expression, a smirk forms. There’s zero embarrassment at being caught out. The sexier his smile grows, the more I’m sure he’s definitely checking me out.

“A man of mystery and one who’s happy to go with the flow…. We could do with a little more of that around here.”

“Is that right?” I tilt my head, and this time, I’m the one dipping my gaze, eating up the expanse of his broad chest before reconnecting with his sparkling eyes.

He seriously is a good-looking guy, and he appears to like what he sees. Mama didn’t raise no fool. I was taught long ago not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Absolutely. An attractive guy possibly sticking around. Or maybe he’ll be leaving in the winter’s breeze in a day or two…. Either way, it’s important you get the best Collier’s Creek welcome going.”

A laugh breaks free between us. I shake my head in amusement, appreciating that Hayes doesn’t take himself too seriously.

“And you’re the best welcome?” I tease.

“Good food, good company….” He shrugs, taking another bite, leaving his words, which I’m totally interpreting as an offer, hanging.

We continue eating, chatting about TV shows and movies, music and sports, and nothing of deep significance. While our music tastes are leagues apart, the fact that he’s rewatched Ted almost as many times as I have makes me smile.

When I finally finish my burger, I pick up one of my fries.

“You’re one of those eaters, huh?”

I freeze with a fry touching my lips, gaze snapping to his. “Excuse me?” I pull the fry away. Our meal so far has been easy, companionable even. That it’s not been deep or personal, I’ve liked a lot. That he’s commenting on how I eat…. Yeah, that’s not going to?—

“You eat each type of food separately rather than mixing it up.” From the speed of his answer, I’ve little doubt he heard the guarded surprise in my question. His slightly widened eyes are a dead giveaway too. He points at his plate. “I like to mix it up.”

I glance down. He’s polished off half of his fries and almost all of his burger.

Shit.

This is also why being a hermit over the past few years has suited me. Though, he’s done an impressive job at reminding me how, with the right person, it’s easy to be sociable and myself.

At work, I get into the mindset of the job and hold my own with ease. You have to in administration, especially if you don’t want to be walked over, but fuck, I hate that I’ve become oversensitive, prepared to defend myself. I never used to be this guy.

Aware I’ve made things awkward as hell, I force a smile. “Yeah.” That’s all I have. Any second now, Hayes, who, let’s face it, is no doubt wishing he’d found another place to sit, is going to stand up and leave.

Probably call Tad ahead of time before coming back to Jake’s Tap, checking I’m not here and that it’s safe to return.

“I had a roommate who used to do that,” he says immediately. His shoulders relax, and he picks up a fry and pops it into his mouth with a smile, completely ignoring the awkwardness. When he’s finished chewing, he continues, “He used to have a thing about his food groups touching. In the end, I found one of those split plate things. I don’t know what they’re called. They remind me a little of the old-school trays in elementary school.”

“A divided plate, so each section’s portioned off?” I pick up my beer and take a sip, happy he hasn’t run off.

“Yeah. They had a whole range. Metal, plastic, different colors. Phil—that was the guy’s name—thought it was awesome.” He takes a bite of his burger, seeming happy when I pick up a fry, following my movement with a smile.

Admittedly, his story, however random, is pretty sweet. That he’d do that rather than ridicule his friend says a lot about him.

“I don’t have issues with food touching.” I shrug. “I just eat the best bits of food first.”

He nods. “So if you get full, it doesn’t matter if you leave the rest.”

I chuckle. “That’s the reason. Though, to be fair, I can polish off a meal this size with no issues.” I rub my gut for good measure. Over the years, I’ve learned it’s easier if I draw attention to my thick waist. I know I’m not obese according to those depressing BMI charts, but I’m definitely overweight.

Hayes tracks my movement, but rather than laughing with me, which is the usual response I get, he tilts his head, and his brow furrows. Flicking his attention back to my face, he seems to study me a beat.

Heat gathers in my chest, and I try hard to shove away the impending embarrassment.

“In that case, do you have room for dessert?”

I part my lips but stop short of speaking, his expression halting me.

Deep brown eyes are fixed on me. There’s no amusement or derision in sight.

Holy shit. Does he mean dessert dessert?

“I have a pint of unopened ice cream at my place. It’s just five minutes away. Both the ice cream and my house.” His gaze doesn’t waver.

“I’m allergic to tree nuts” tumbles out of my mouth. Immediately, I want to take the words back. Maybe even cover my face.

His lips twitch. “I’ll keep the maple syrup and pecan ice cream sealed, in that case.”

I swallow hard, my cock thickening at the very thought of going home with Hayes. I dip the tip of my tongue out and swipe it over my bottom lip. “And when you say ice cream…?”

Leaning forward, he reaches out and ghosts his fingers over my forearm. My goose bumps are immediate. They intensify when he lowers his voice and says, “That’s exactly the plan. I want to see how quickly I can make you scream.”

Fuck.

A shudder weaves its way through me, and I’m nodding fast and hard and probably looking like a bobblehead. “Yeah, okay.” Damn, the man’s pickup game is strong. And I’m here for it.

He eases back in the booth, picks up a fry, and pops it into his mouth. “Let me settle up at the bar and we’ll go. Unless you want to finish your fries.”

“No.” I clear my throat, trying to calm down my eagerness. “I’m good to leave now.”

“Perfect.” He combines his response with a rake of his gaze over my face. I feel its journey. My cheeks flush, and I swear the heat in his eyes deepens. When he stands, I track his movements, my body vibrating with need.

Jesus H. Christ.

I take a calming breath, finish off my beer, then stand. This is not how I saw my night going. My lips twitch. Staying in Collier’s Creek permanently is looking sweeter and sweeter.

He’s back before I know it, and I realize I’ve let him pay. “Shit.” I tug out my wallet. “What do I owe you?”

He shakes his head. “My treat.”

“You didn’t need to do that.” That he did unfurls more heat in my stomach.

“I wanted to,” he says, indicating the door with a nod as he tugs on his coat.

“Thanks,” I offer, not quite sure when the last time was a guy bought me a meal.

We step out into the quiet street, the cool breeze whipping by us. “Fuck, it’s cold.”

Hayes’s chuckle is soft. “If you do stick around, just wait until the snow comes.”

I tug my jacket around me, wishing I had a hat and scarf. It’s something I really need to invest in. Maybe a giant sleeping-bag coat, too, which is a thing I saw on a sketchy website, so I know they exist. Though, knowing my luck, I’ll order it and end up with a miniature one made for a Ken doll or something.

“My place is south of town. I’ve just had one light beer, so are you okay if I drive us?”

“Sounds good,” I say gratefully, not having thought that far ahead. No way could I have brought Hayes back to my sister’s. Talk about sketchy.

Hayes’s shoulder brushes mine as we head down the street and toward his vehicle. Not only is his heat welcome, but he’s sticking close and clinging to the connection we felt at the bar.

“This is me.”

We stop outside an old pickup truck. It’s not souped-up, and it needs some TLC. It’s also not what I expected.

“Nice truck.”

He pauses from getting in the driver’s seat, his gaze meeting mine. I see the question there and am sure he’s wondering if I’m mocking him. That’s the furthest thing from the truth.

I like that he doesn’t have something flashy. Not a vehicle that’s all about image and bling or whatever kids these days are driving.

“It’s about the same age I am,” I offer with a chuckle. There’s no hiding that there’s a clear disparity in our ages. “It brings back fond memories. My uncle used to have one.”

He sends a beaming smile my way, and when he gets in, I settle beside him, grinning at the well-worn bench seat.

It takes a couple of tries to get the engine started, and while I’m pretty sure pink dusts his cheeks, the whole setup and his reaction are endearing. I like being surprised.

It finally gets going, and he pulls away from the curb, saying, “It’s a Ford F-100. It used to be my pops’s.” His voice takes on a softer tone, and I wince, pretty sure I know where he’s going with this story.

“Pops bought it brand new in ’75,” Hayes continues, glancing over at me with a grin that’s a mix of pride and nostalgia. “Man, you should see him now. He’s eighty and still driving his old Harley around town like he’s twenty. Last Christmas, he put on a Santa suit and rode around handing out candy canes. Ended up in a snowbank ’cause he insisted on doing donuts in the church parking lot.”

I burst out laughing, imagining an old man in a Santa suit causing chaos on a Harley. “He sounds like a riot.”

“Oh, he’s something else.” Hayes nods. “Last summer, he convinced the whole family to go on this wild goose chase to find ‘Bigfoot.’ We ended up camping in the woods for a week, Pops swearing up and down he saw something ‘real suspicious’ every night. Turned out he was just messing with us—had a costume and everything. Scared the living daylights outta my cousin Joe.”

I’m laughing so hard that tears prick my eyes. “Jesus, here I was thinking my dad was a handful when he glued all the remote controls together so we’d have more ‘family time.’ And yes, when I was a teenager, we had remote controls and everything. It was the most exciting thing to be invented before DVDs.”

Hayes snorts and shakes his head.

“But your pops sounds like he’s on another level.”

Hayes chuckles, navigating a turn. “Yeah, he’s a trip. Keeps everyone on their toes.”

We continue down the road, passing quaint storefronts and quiet streets, a happy warmth drifting between us. Am I still horny? Fuck yes. I’m sporting a semi, but the laughter between us is refreshing.

Turning the blinker on, Hayes glances at me, a wide smile aimed my way. “This is me.”

I look out the window and take in the small bungalow. Light spills onto the front porch from the lantern next to the door. “Nice place.”

Hayes’s fidgeting draws my attention back to him. He seems self-conscious.

“It’s not much, but it’s mine, you know?”

Surprise has me furrowing my brow. What on earth does he have to be embarrassed by? “It looks great. I imagine property prices here have gone crazy, as have rentals.”

“It’s not as bad as other places, but it’s pricy. I bought this fixer-upper a couple of years back. It’s just one bed, one bath?—”

“It looks solid, and as you said, it’s yours. Which already makes me think that it’s a good place.”

“Yeah?” His eyes brighten.

This man, he’s fucking irresistible. So far, he’s taken the lead, so this hint of vulnerability is unexpected. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t like it.

“How about,” I say as I unbuckle myself, “you let me in, and I can see for myself?” I lean toward him, and he immediately takes the hint.

Hayes closes the distance between us, pressing his lips to mine with an unexpected tenderness. The kiss is soft, almost hesitant, as if we’re both testing the waters. The warmth of his breath, the slight quiver of his lips as they meet mine—I savor each sensation.

He cups my cheek, thumb brushing my skin gently, sending shivers down my spine. At his touch, the kiss deepens, drawing a soft gasp and a shuddering breath from me as our tongues brush.

Fuck, I want him.

Hayes is intoxicating, drawing me in with every passing second.

My palm finds its way to the back of his neck, tangling my fingers in his hair as I pull him closer.

“Inside,” he gasps, tugging us apart.

“Me,” I state, not the trace of a quiver in my voice, feeling bold with the firmness of my cock and the intensity of our kiss. “I want you inside me.”

“Fuck.” The word punches out of him.

Rather than going in for another kiss, Hayes shoves open his door, clasps my hand, and draws me out his side of the pickup.

Thank you, Ford, for the ease of bench seats.

He doesn’t stop, completely on a mission to get us inside his home. I’m on board, meeting him stride for stride. That he doesn’t need to unlock the door, just opens the damn thing, probably deserves a question about home safety, but I’m too desperate to care.

I don’t have time to take in the living space because Hayes’s palm against mine is firm, his stride unrelenting until we’re in his bedroom.

“Clothes.” He punctuates the growled demand with a heated kiss.

I don’t have time to grasp onto him or start humping his damn leg before he breaks the kiss to tug his coat off, then his long-sleeved tee.

But I can’t move, can barely remember how to breathe as I drink him in.

An expanse of skin is revealed, so toned and sculpted that my lips part. Wide-eyed, I stare. I’ve never seen a body so defined in real life before. Not even in my youth.

“Fuck, your body….”

The corners of his lips lift high, cockiness filling his features that’s all self-confidence and certainty rather than arrogance. “Is going to fuck you so damn good.” He steps into my space, his unzipped jeans revealing a splatter of pubic hair that I’m keen to rub my face against.

Before I can respond to his dirty-as-fuck words, he tugs off my jacket, pulls off my sweater, and unceremoniously removes my T-shirt. A flicker of unease pulses in my gut. We’re so different. Our age, our shapes and sizes, my?—

Any uncertainty cuts off when he latches on to my nipple, nibbling and licking as he grips my ass with firm hands and squeezes.

My cock punches against my jeans, and I cling to him, dropping my head back and allowing myself to enjoy his warm mouth.

“I can’t wait to taste you,” he murmurs as he kisses his way to my other nipple and moves one of his hands to my groin. He squeezes lightly, pulling a gasp from me. “You’re going to stretch my mouth fucking perfectly.”

I groan when he squeezes again, barely registering how smooth and hot his skin feels under my wandering hands.

His mouth on me will have me coming too fast, and there’s not a chance I’ll be able to go again quickly. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I came more than once in a night. Even twice in a week without my own hand.

The thought has me tugging Hayes up and capturing his mouth.

I want him inside me. Want him to remind me how phenomenal it feels to get railed when fueled by lust and passion.

Everything about Hayes screams sex and fun and desire.

I need that now.

He plunges his tongue into my mouth, and I shiver in need.

I pull away, my heart speeding up when he chases me for more. “Lube?” I ask between his kisses. “Where’s your lube?”

He grunts and kisses me once, twice, and a third time before gripping my waist and urging me onto his bed. I sit willingly, kicking off my shoes and focusing on undressing as quickly as possible. The whole time, I keep my attention on him as he moves to his bedside cabinet.

He breaks eye contact, taking in my now-naked body.

I wait for the discomfort to kick in, but the lust in Hayes’s eyes doesn’t give me the chance to overthink.

He wants me—maybe even as much as I want him.

“You’re good to bottom, right?” he asks, voice dipping low as he tugs off his jeans. His cock springs free, long and uncut. It’s hard to look away as I imagine going down on him, playing with his foreskin. “Sully.”

My eyes snap up, and I meet his gaze. His brows are pulled up in question and amusement.

“Yes.” I nod.

“Thank fuck. I didn’t want to assume, but based on what you said earlier….”

I have no clue what I said earlier. All I can think about is his big dick, his perfect body, and the way he makes me feel sexy.

When he’s fully naked, he kneels on the bed with a smile. “You want to move back and let me take care of you?”

Fuck yes, I do.

I scramble back, head landing on the soft pillow that smells like him. It’s an aftershave I don’t recognize and his natural scent that’s woodsy and fresh. I consider turning my head farther into the pillow and inhaling deeply, but Hayes’s hand on my thigh leaves me trembling and aching.

“You’re so fucking sexy.”

My gaze snaps to his.

Everything from his gravelly tone to the intensity in his deep brown gaze tells me all I need to know.

He’s serious and he wants me.

“Even sexier when your dick’s inside me,” I challenge, the passion in his gaze bolstering me.

He’s quick to laugh. “I have no doubt you’re right.”

“Condom?”

He reveals the packet in his hand I hadn’t seen. “I’m on PrEP and negative. Regular checks, but?—”

“Me too,” I’m quick to say. “I’m good to give that a miss if you are.”

With a smirk that’s all satisfaction and promise, he throws the condom on the floor.

The click of the lube bottle sounds loud. Tension hums through my veins, encouraging me to ease back and bend my knees. I spread my legs wide after planting my feet, then hesitate.

Maybe he wants me on my knees. Maybe?—

“Just like that. Fuck, look at your hole.” A swallow follows, loud in the otherwise quiet room. “I’m going to stretch you so good.”

At the first touch, my eyes roll into the back of my head. His thick fingers drive into me, probing, careful to ease me open. He offers me sporadic kisses on my lips, my chest, my extra-sensitive nipples, working me up and taking care of me until I’m panting and writhing, asking for his cock.

“Hayes, fuck, I’m ready.”

A salacious grin forms as he rises and stares down at me. “You are, huh?”

“The three fingers in my ass say yes.”

His chuckle is loud. I grin even as he strokes against my prostrate and I arch up, squeezing his digits.

“In that case, I better not keep you waiting.”

“Best idea in the history of ever,” I say, gasping a little when he removes his fingers.

I swear, everything about Hayes—his attention, his sweet affection, the way he laughs and smiles, just how carefree he is—brings out a side of me I haven’t seen in years.

I’m embracing every moment. The fun, the eagerness of fucking, the joy of chasing pleasure.

I reach out and stroke his cock, joining in when he coats himself with lube. The shudder that racks through his body is mesmerizing. Fuck yeah, I did that. Am the reason Hayes’s muscles tense, his limbs vibrating.

This man is the ego boost I never dreamed I’d have. Fuck, I’m lucky.

And for the rest of the night, he’s mine.