Page 39 of Tommy

“The way your eyes light up, they sparkle when you’re given positive reinforcement,” he said. “You’re desperate to be called agood boy.”

A half-moan slipped out of my mouth. I hadn’t meant for it to happen. It was a natural bodily function to the word.

“Well, mygood boy, if you do want that Christmas tree, you’ll have to keep being good,” he said. “And wait a couple days. That’s how long it’ll take anyway. Unfortunately, I’m not sure if you’ve seen, but there’s a storm outside.”

All he was asking of me was to be good. I could do that without a problem.

The snowstorm went on throughout the evening and all through the night. Thankfully, we were both all warmed up on hearty soup and homemade bread bowls to even notice. We spent the night together in his bed and the mattress that almost swallowed me whole. It was the best night of sleep I’d had in a while, even better than some of the fancy hotels I’d stayed in while doing book signings across parts of the country.

When I woke the following morning, Hardin was out of bed, although his warm impression was still in the pillow. I pressed my head into it and inhaled his scent. It wasn’t until Iwas fully awake that I found I was also dry humping at the duvet as well.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Hardin’s deep morning voice spoke. He crawled into bed behind me and hugged me. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I’m an early riser.” And from the thickness poking me in my back, it wasn’t the only early riser about him.

Through a yawn, I tried speaking but my voice was all mashed up. “Did the house survive?” I managed eventually.

“It did. We got off unscathed. There’s about two feet of snow in front of the doors, but I’ll deal with that once I’ve had breakfast,” he said, squeezing his arm around my waist. “What would you like for breakfast?”

“What are you offering?” I asked. “And is it poking me in the back?”

“Breakfast sausage is on the menu,” he said. “But I’m not sure if you’re ready for it.”

The way his voice rasped in my ear was a lubricant all on its own, and my cock was solid. “How about I check?”

“Be my guest,” he said, rolling over.

In a tank top and a pair of boxer briefs, Hardin laid back and gave me all the space to touch his body. I was never usually this horny. I’d sometimes gone days without even masturbating, but being around him, whether it was his cowboy pheromones, something in me was desperate to feel the way an orgasm did through my body.

Sucking his cock through the button hole of his briefs, he wasted no time in turning me around on him and going for a sixty-nine as we both helped ourselves to some breakfast sausage. I couldn’t let my brain get too carried away with the idea, otherwise I’d start chomping down.

We lasted about fifteen minutes of rolling around in bed before I bust my nut without warning, making a mess all in his bedsheets. I looked at him with a pouty expression and wideeyes, to then promise I’d swallow his load. I didn’t want to make anymore waste. And he agreed, delivering his warm load down my throat.

He kicked the duvet off the bed and cuddled me afterwards. I was the little spoon, no longer getting jabbed in the back by his erection.

“Is this the longest you’ve stayed in bed?” I asked.

“Assuming I’m not sick, yeah, this is the longest,” he said, “although usually with more blanket coverage.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was happening until it did.”

“Good boys ask for forgiveness anyway,” he said.

“And you forgive me?”

“Have you asked?”

Putting in all the effort to shuffle around and meet his eyes. “Will you forgive me?”

“What for?” he asked, kissing my forehead.

“Um. For cumming on your bedding.”

Hardin hummed, oohing and ahhing over the idea of forgiving me. “That’s twice now. The first time over me. But I suppose I forgive you for it. It’s not like it could be controlled. You’re only a little, who could put the blame on you?” he kissed my forehead again, his soft beard ticking the bridge of my nose.

Pulling my head down to his chest, I cocooned myself in his arms. His heartbeat was loud in my ears, thumping fast. It was so soothing it almost sent me back to sleep. But I didn’t, not for lack of trying. We apparently still had a busy day ahead, and needed actual food to fill our bellies before it happened.

For a split second, I forgot I’d come here to escape my brain and put it to use for something else. My agent sold the trip as a place I could go for a hard reset. I wondered if they were two different things now. Hardin was definitely thehard, I only needed to find my reset now.

“How do you like your eggs?” he asked, after we’d relocated to the kitchen.

---