Page 39 of Say Uncle

Mattie stood in the doorway of my room, his silhouette outlined by the moonlight filtering through my bedroom window.

“What is it?”

Mattie didn’t ask a question. He padded on silent feet to the side of my bed, turned back the covers,and climbed in.

“What are you doing, boy?”

“I don’t want to sleep alone. I’m tired of feeling alone, and I feel good when I’m with you.”

I was too tired to untangle that truth or the feelings it stirred in my chest. Sliding my arm around his waist, I pulled his body tight against mine, his back to my chest.

Damn, his hair smelled good, like eucalyptus.

“Don’t get used to it.” The little brat rubbed his ass against my cock, trying to make it stiff. “Quit, I’m tired. I sleep for shit when I’m on the boat.” His body remained tense, like he wanted to say something. “Just go to sleep, Mattie-boy. Close your eyes.”

The weight of slumber pulled me under, and I slept solidly through the night with his warm body in my arms.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

We were headed to Saint Martin. Our guests, Jess and Ethan, had a house there. It was a one-way trip for them, as they were flying back at the end of the summer. We would make a quick stop in Anguilla to pick up a businessman named Rupert and bring him back to the States.

Nicky was beyond excited. He had the zoomies, as Cass would say, because he’d never been to either island. I was beginning to see a pattern with him. He would research everything he could about our destination, talk about it nonstop the whole way there, and then, on the way back, he would reminisce about how it was the best island in the Caribbean.

He said this about every single island.

“Did you know the island is half Dutch and half French? And they both spell it differently. Fascinating,” he marveled, shaking his head.

“I don’t get it. You look like a normal guy, but then you open your mouth, and you’re a total dork. Fascinating,” I repeated, shaking my head.

I was folding a load of towels fresh from the dryer, and Nicky was supposed to be helping, but he couldn’t shut his yap long enough to be productive.

“Want me to fold those for you?” he asked.

“Why? What’s in it for me?” I asked suspiciously.

“Nothing, I swear. I’m trying to earn punches.”

“Punches? Is this some new kink you’re exploring? Because I’ve got to say, I’m really not into the whole sadomasochistic thing.”

Nicky giggled, shoving my chest. “No, silly. Punches for my card.”

“What card? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a business card with ten numbers on it. The first two were already punched through.

“What is that, for the ice cream shop? You get a free cone when you punch all ten?”

“No, silly. It’s my behavior card. When I do good deeds, I get my card punched. When I get to ten, Daddy gives me a reward.”

“Get all the way the fuck out of here,” I said, not believing what I was hearing.

“It’s true! I’ve got to fill it up so I can get my new stuffie. You should totally start your own punch card.”

I hadn’t known Sam was listening until I heardhim laughing. He plucked the card from Nicky’s hand, studying it. “It would take him a lifetime to fill up.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” He was right, though. I had no interest in doing good deeds to earn stuffed animals. Sexy rewards, on the other hand? Blow jobs? I could fold a towel or two for that. “Have at it,” I told him, patting the stack of towels. “They’re all yours, good boy.”

And then, as if we never segued into punch cards and rewards, he continued on about the island. “I’m going to get my Daddy and Uncle Sam a bottle of guavaberry rum, which you can only get there, and they have nude beaches!”

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