Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 176(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“Thank you. The good news is, I have food. I brought a cooler filled with basics for you. I was worried this kind of thing could happen and you wouldn’t be prepared.”
I lifted a brow. “That was nice of you. Sounds like we’re set. We’re safe and warm in a killer cabin with a big ol’ fireplace, plenty of wood, a TV, stocked cupboards, and…I’m pretty sure I saw a bunch of games on a shelf in the living room.”
“Games?” He perked up.
“Yeah, board games and cards. We’ll check ’em out…after we check out that bad-ass shower.”
Chet’s lips twisted in amusement. I could practically see him push his worry aside and choose to stay in the moment.
“It did look rather…bad-ass.”
I snorted, hooking my arm around his neck. “C’mon. We’re gonna make the most of this, and we’re gonna have fun.”
We showered and redressed before braving the elements to rescue his cooler and one of his many overnight bags from his SUV.
Snow fell at a diagonal, coating every surface in a thick blanket. It was beautiful, but the wind screaming through the low branches of the pine trees lining the property warned us not to linger. We hurried as best we could, but what should have been a two-minute chore became a sideshow adventure worthy of a comedy skit.
The wind made it difficult to open the hatch and keep it open without losing a limb. We took turns holding it and pulling the suitcase and cooler out. Lugging them up the path to the cabin was a whole other ball of wax. We could hardly see where we were going. I tripped on what might have been a rock, lost my balance, and ended up on my ass.
“Are you okay?” Chet yelled, dropping the cooler to help me up.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Keep movin’.”
We hauled our goods inside and closed the door, panting at the effort. We shared a wide-eyed look of shock that morphed into a good laugh. When the laughter faded, we stared at each other for a beat before coming together like a couple of hungry, horny teenagers…sucking face and shucking off clothing as we stumbled into the living room and collapsed onto the sectional sofa. His lips were cold, but his body was so warm and inviting.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d orgasmed from humping. I assure you, it had been decades. But there I was, holding his ass with one hand and lifting my hips to grind my cock against Chet’s. With our mouths fused and our limbs entwined, our cocks pulsed between us. I grabbed us both and jacked us to the finish line. He came first, and with the warm jet of his cum on my cock, I didn’t last more than two strokes.
Our chests heaved from exertion in the aftermath. He curled onto my chest and released a happy-sounding sigh, but he didn’t speak. Neither did I. There really was nothing more to say. This wasn’t what either of us had envisioned, but damn, it was good. And there was no point in denying that for as long as the storm raged, we’d be together…just like this.
We eventually cleaned up again, heated the canned soup Chet brought, and served it with a baguette and wine before settling in front of the fireplace, trading “Would you believe” stories from our childhoods. Mine ranged from “Would you believe I broke my left arm twice the same summer when I was nine?” to “Would you believe I wanted to be a doctor when I was a kid?” Chet agreed I’d been a dangerous thrill-seeker as a youngster and asked a million questions about my shift from med school dreams to becoming a ref.
I slurped a spoonful of minestrone. “I fell into the ref gig through a series of connections and a deep desire to be part of the action once a week for six months out of the year.”
“That’s not a very rigorous work schedule. How do referees make a living?”
“They usually have day jobs too.”
“Do you?”
“Yep.” I cocked my head and smiled. “You didn’t think I sat around all spring and summer waiting for football season, did you? My other job isn’t as exciting, but it’s paid the bulk of my bills for the past eighteen years.”
Chet furrowed his brow. “What do you do?”
“I’m a freelance software engineer. I’m between contracts at the moment. That’s why I’ve been around a bit more. I do a lot of work for a popular gaming company. My next project with them is a top-secret sports-themed computer game. I’m supposed to start that one in January. The timing should be perfect. I’m reffing a couple of weekends in December, and I’m working Christmas.”
“Gosh, I didn’t realize that. The job part, I mean.”
“Gotta make a living. It’s not sexy work, but it’s lucrative,” I replied, setting my bowl on the coffee table. “Your turn. Would you believe…? Go.”