Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
So if I really stopped and let myself think about how intuitive he must be when he was with women in bed, or a guy at the inn… it only made sense that I had a natural, human response to it. Purely physical.
He cannot ever know about this, I told myself, gripping my cock and starting to stroke it. I thought about anything and everything but him—mostly trying to focus on my memory of that video I watched last night.
I knew he’d probably get some deep satisfaction in knowing he could get me a little turned on.
I wasn’t going to feed his ego like that.
4
FINN
Anyone know how to make friends with your old best friend? Asking for a friend.
“How you doin’, Hot Mess?”
I walked through the tall archway in the entryway of Mason’s house. The place wasn’t quite a mansion, but it was only a notch below it—a big, beautiful house with endless natural light, nestled in the trees at the edge of his ranch.
“Tired,” Mason said, giving me a smile. “Ready for a massage, I’ll tell you that much.”
He looked like he always looked—his nickname was Hot Mess for a reason, and that’s because he always kind of looked like a model off-duty mixed with a good ol’ southern boy. He had a good build, but more days than not, he had dark circles under his eyes, shaggy hair, and a permanently sleepy look.
“How’s Chomp doing after his spa day yesterday?”
“Never seen a happier horse in my life,” Mason said. “I swore he smiled at me when I went out at noon.”
“I’d believe it. Chomp’s a smart cookie.”
Mason had inherited all ten acres of Minton Ranch when his dad had passed away. It was some of the most beautiful land in Bestens or for miles in any direction. He had six horses, a few short trails, arenas, a couple of round pens, and more box stalls than he’d ever need.
The land was horse heaven, and the house itself was just as impressive.
I hauled in my heavy, portable massage table, ready to get started on his weekly massage appointment. Mason had started getting massages from me shortly after I began volunteering with his horses, and at this point, I saw Mason most days of the week, whether it was for the horses or for therapeutic massage.
Ori had been convinced Mason wanted to fuck me ever since he saw us together a couple of Christmases ago.
But it was bullshit.
Ori just thought any gay guy wanted me, but I was damn sure Mason just deeply appreciated my help. His father had run one of the most successful horse riding schools in the state from this land, but since he passed, Mason had let a lot of the business slow down, taking on fewer and fewer clients as time went on.
He was dealing with his own grief. His dad had been a rock star at running the business, and it was clear that Mason felt in over his head.
I’d been volunteering to help with the horses ever since. He still had one other guy on payroll who came around to help with maintenance of the horses and property, but things were night-and-day compared to the way his dad had run it.
Mason needed my help, not my cock.
I set the table down in his living room, starting to unfold the legs below it. His living room was covered in various bottles, boxes, and for some reason, multiple colorful feather boas.
“Big night last night?”
Mason gave me a slight smile. “Haven’t even slept yet.”
“It’s five in the evening, Mason,” I said.
“I know,” he told me. “I had a little too much fun last night. And this morning. And I really need to start slowing down.”
I gave him a look. “Are you going to slow down?”
“Doubtful.”
That was another way he’d been handling his grief: he said yes to anything, whether it was a party or a trip or random ideas any of his friends had. He was a softie, and one of the nicest people I knew, but every time I saw him he had another insane story to tell.
Mason refused to say no to any life experience, and sometimes that meant his life was a hot mess, even if he was trying to live it to the fullest. We all loved him, and we all didn’t know what he’d do next.
He sure fuckin’ needed the stability and care of regular massages.
I got started working on him a couple of minutes later, easing my thumbs into his right side levator scapula and his traps.
“There is a whole nasty little cluster of tension here beside your shoulder blade,” I said a few minutes into the massage. Mason tensed up a little on the table in front of me, even as I lightly massaged the area.
“It feels like a little slice of hell itself right in my upper back,” Mason said. “God.”