Page 34 of The Nook for Brooks
Then I lay back. I let the bubbles lap at my chest. And let myself think of him.
My hand slipped lower, sliding under the water, down my quivering stomach, curling around my cock. I stroked slowly at first, fantasizing that it was his hand instead of mine, his rough palm guiding me, his laugh breaking against my mouth as I moaned.
That was when the damn plug in the tub started up.
First it made a gurgle, then a low wet suck, the kind of irritating noise that always threatened to break the spell of a bath.
I frowned, ready to yank it out and cut my pleasure short.
But then… I thought of Cody again.
The plug made another sucking sound, and I imagined Cody’s lips around my dick.
I imagined him sucking my cock with the same hungry enthusiasm he seemed to give everything in life.
I trembled at the thought of him taking me completely in his mouth with that wet, messy sound, obscene and perfect.
I groaned, my fist tightening as I pumped faster. The bubbles sloshed against the sides of the tub. My hips lifted, chasing the rhythm.
“Fuck, Cody,” I whispered, my voice like a prayer to the universe.
I was close, so close, the thought of him swallowing me down, his own groans muffled by my cock, his tongue teasing the head. The gurgle of the drain grew louder, more urgent, and suddenly I lost myself completely.
Cum spurted hot across my belly, disappearing into the bubbles in streaks of white, my body jerking as I gasped for air.
I lay there, heart racing, water lapping gently against the porcelain.
Slowly, I let my hand fall away, the aftershocks easing.
I stared at the ceiling, catching my breath, and smiled despite myself.
Cody Cameron had wormed his way into my every thought, every nerve ending. And now, as I thought about bed, as I yearned for sleep, I knew I’d be taking him with me into my dreams.
CODY
I wokeup with one mission in mind: breakfast delivery.
Not just any breakfast—brooksfast. Pascal’s finest croissants, still warm, carted straight up Main Street to the front door ofBrooks’s Book Nook. Maybe I’d even get a smile out of him before noon. You never know your luck in a big city… or a small town.
By the time I pushed open the patisserie door, the air was so thick with sugar and butter it could’ve put me in a diabetic coma just by breathing it in. My eyelids fluttered with delight before I homed in on the glass display cases glittering with éclairs, tarts, Danishes, and of course… croissants.
“Why if it isn’t our very own Thunder from Down Under!” Lonnie waved excitedly from behind the counter. “Darling, look who’s back!”
Beside Lonnie, Ronnie popped up from nowhere, tray in hand. “You’re here for another buttered boomerang, aren’t you?”
I laughed. “You’re really running with that name, huh?”
“Of course we are! It’s brilliant,” Ronnie declared. “Although unfortunately Pascal disagrees. He says it’s sacrilegious to rename a French classic. He gave us a twenty-minute lectureon tradition, heritage, and the sanctity of choux dough. I didn’t even know heknewmartial arts.”
“Honestly,” Lonnie stage-whispered. “Poor Ronnie almost nodded off face first into a bowl of batter.”
I chuckled. “Well, for what it’s worth, I have to say I’m with Pascal on this one. The name ‘croissant’ is already perfect. No need to fix it. And if the French can create something that delicious, I say let ’em name it.”
“That’s fine for the people of gay Paree,” Ronnie said. “But nobody in Mulligan’s Mill knows what they’re eating. Which is why we’ve come up with some other options.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Other options?”
“We’ve been workshopping new names for all his pastries,” Lonnie said proudly, pulling a notepad from her apron pocket and flipping it open. “So, éclairs? That’s a little too ooh-la-la fancy for the folks around here. So we’ve decided those are now officially Slinky Choca-doodle Twinkies.”
