by V. L. Locey
“You’ll be ducking sock bombs when you come home,” I mumbled then sniggered as I slid the Mustang into gear then pulled out into the morning rush that is one huge downside to life in Manhattan. Patience not being one of my strong suits, I managed not to blow up into full road rage when a cab cut me off. “You’ve got all day,” I told myself over and over until I was out of the confines of the city and on my way through Jersey.
The four-hour drive was uneventful, and I cruised into the neatly plowed driveway of Bran’s cabin close to one, having stopped to grab a bite of breakfast along the way. I eased my baby up next to the Apache, turned her off, and admired the pristine beauty of the last snowfall two days ago. Aside from Bran’s tracks in the snow to the birdfeeders, everything was fluffy and white. A total opposite to the gray slush that we now had in New York City.
Motion in my periphery pulled my gaze from the small red maple that we’d planted two falls past. Bran filled the doorway, all jeans and flannel and smiles. I couldn’t get to him quickly enough. The greeting kiss was long and sweet, his mouth flavored with coffee.
“Boots off here please,” he sort-of teased when I began shuffling him away from the foyer toward the couch. I loved fucking him on the sofa, or in the shower, or on the bed, or in the back yard weather permitting.
“It’s only a little water,” I muttered as I bent down to untie my winter boots. He ran a hand over my ass. I threw him a look through long pink hair. “No molesting the guest.”
“You stopped being a guest last spring when you moved in.”
“True.” I tossed my boots into the box under the coats and gathered him close. “Where do you want to fuck?”
His fingers carded into the shaggy flamingo mop on top of my head, his palms resting on the shaved undercuts above my ears.
“Always the romantic,” he said, pulling my mouth to his. I let him direct us to the nearest flat surface, our lips slipping over each other’s as we maneuvered around furniture. “Here, right here in bed.”
He pushed my arms up and tugged my shirt over my head. Then, because he loved the ink, he lowered his head to my shoulder and began licking at my tats, taking a long tour up my underarm where I’d recently had his name added to the artwork on my body. It was a beautiful tat, the rose deepest red and his name worked around the stem. He’d gotten a similar one, smaller with my name worked into the leaves. That was in a place that only I ever got to see.
“My turn,” I huffed before he could get to the owl he so adored on my stomach. I stripped him with speed, dropping to my knees when he was nude. He combed his fingers into my hair as I tongued the beautiful red rose that rested on his pelvic bone. His cock slid across my cheek, leaving a wet trail of precum. “Fuck you taste good.”
“I love bye weeks,” he groaned when I moved from his rose to his dick, sucking him hard and noisily until he pulled away. “Need you in me,” he panted then crawled into our bed, going to his hands and knees, his ass swaying back and forth, teasing me like one would a dog with a filet mignon. Just like that dog who is tempted for a bit too long, I leaped on the bed and bit his ass lovingly. His shout of surprise slowly turned into a moan of pleasure when I nibbled my way to his puckered hole and started lapping. “Oh shit, Nate.”
“Mm-hmm,” I hummed, spearing his hole over and over then working my middle finger into him as I suckled on his balls. He asked for more, begged for it, so I spit on his ass and gave him two fingers and then three. His back arched back and up, over and over.
“Now, in me now before I come,” he gasped, tossing the lube over his shoulder, hitting me in the head, and spreading a beach towel over the comforter.. I chuckled as I rubbed the thick, slick gel over my cock and pushed into him, his body opened and ready for me. There was little talking after I was seated inside him, just thrusts and grunts and cries of completion, his then mine. When I came he reached back to grab my ass, keeping my cock deep inside as it kicked and filled him with spunk. We’d given up condoms in the summer, we’d both been tested, had negative results, and we were monogamous.
“Yes, oh yes,” I growled, pumping his ass so full that it oozed out of him, coating his balls. When I pulled out he whimpered at the loss. I sat back on my heels and watched my spunk oozing out of him then dripping to the towel under us. “I never get tired of seeing that.”
“Love the feel of it…leaking out,” he huffed then rolled to his back. I pulled the towel up between his legs, using one end to wipe off before I stretched out beside him, kissing my way from his pert nipple to his mouth. “Mm, did I mention how much I loved bye weeks?”
“They rock, huh?” I asked, getting a hot moan of satisfaction that did all kinds of good things for my ego. Using his shoulder for a pillow, I let the afterglow lull me to sleep. When I woke up, Bran was gone and I was covered to my chin with a thick down comforter. The sun was still shining, so I sat up, rubbed at my eyes, and left our bed. In my jeans and a Mustangs hoodie, I padded out to the living room, smiling at the sounds of “Cherry, Cherry” as the song bounced off the warm log walls.
“Hey,” he called from the kitchen. “I’m making dinner. Come join me.”
“Okay,” I shouted but my bare feet moved me to the sliding glass door. The backyard was a winter landscape painted in shades of ivory, pine, and scarlet. Cardinals flew to and from the birdfeeders. Little chickadees hung from suet balls. My father’s tree was bare now, the snow clinging to the thin branches.
“I thought you were going to join me in the creation of a killer meatloaf,” he said as he came up behind me, slipping his arms around my waist. Soft flannel slid under my hoodie, his fingers dipping down into the waistband of my jeans.
“Sorry yeah, I got sidetracked by the tree. It looks pretty with snow on it.”
“Yeah, it does. It’s a relatively quick growing tree so we should have lots of shade for picnics within five or ten years.” His cheeks were rough when he nuzzled my neck. My eyes drifted shut for a moment as I drank in the incredibly diverse sensations on my flesh. “You will be here in ten years, yeah?”
“Mm, probably. Maybe you should put a ring on it if you’re liking it so much,” I teased as I rested in his arms, my eyes shut, his smell enveloping me.
“Would you? Marry me that is. Are you ready for that kind of commitment?”
The lazy mood I’d been wrapped in dissipated instantly. My eyes opened and my sight flew to that snowy maple tree with the suet balls dangling from its spindly branches.
“Are you seriously asking?” My voice sounded thick. His grip on me intensified as did the rasp of his cheek on my throat.
“Is there a not serious way to ask a man to marry you?”
“In clown makeup?”
He chuckled, the thrum of his laugh vibrating through two layers of material to soak into my back.
“So, what do you think? Maybe next summer? Under that tree with that big old silver cup you and the other Mustangs are so desperate to win?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’d love that a lot.” He kissed my jaw and I let my heart take wing with the winter birds that were heading off to roost for the night.
“I happen to know a judge,” he purred beside my ear.
Yeah, that he did. And I knew the perfect place to say our vows, right in the shade of Jacob and Dad’s tree, with blue flowers for boutonnieres, and the beauty of the good green earth all around us.
The End
What’s next in the Colors of Love series
Look for
Slow Dances Under an Orange Moon
Colors of Love #4
coming 2/19/20
Can the love they once shared be saved or has the pain of the past eclipsed it?
It’s been twenty years since Kye McLeod left the quaint little mountain town of Spruce Lake, Pennsylvania to play professional hockey. He’s had his share of ups and downs, but his choice to hit the big city and not look back has paid off handsomely. The future hall-of-famer is now ready to retire and come out of that dark closet he’
s been sequestered in since his first secretive kiss with Davy Aguirre in high school. Now that he’s heading home to keep an eye on his feisty grandfather, there might be the chance to rekindle the flame between him and Davy.
Kye quickly learns that the boy he left behind isn’t the man he’s now knocking heads with. He always imagined grown-up Davy—who now insists on being called David—would be beyond the pain that Kye’s youthful blunder caused him, but now he’s not so sure. When the wildlife conservation officer squares off with the ex-hockey captain their connection is incendiary, and there are more than just fireworks. However, winning back the man he walked away from may not be as easy as he thought…
A note from the author
If you enjoyed The Good Green Earth, Colors of Love #3, I’d be incredibly grateful if you could leave a review on a major retailer site, BookBub, Goodreads, or on your personal social media platforms.
Reviews are the reason someone else might decide to give this book a try!
Deepest thanks,
*squishy hugs*
V.L.
About the Author
USA Today Bestselling Author V.L. Locey - Penning LGBT hockey romance that skates into sinful pleasures.
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, Dr. Who/Torchwood, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted goofy domestic fowl, and two steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand.
If you want to keep up with all the latest news about her upcoming M/M releases, sign up for her newsletter by visiting her website:
vllocey.com
[email protected]
Other Books by V.L. Locey
LGBTQ Releases
Standalones
Holly & Hockey Boots
Life is a Stevie Wonder Song
Improper Fraction
Blue Line Collection #1
Playmaker – A Venom Novella
New York Nightwings Collection
An Erie Collection
Love is a Walk in the Park – Coauthored with Stephanie Locey
Tales of Bryant
Nine Small Sips (A Tales of Bryant Wedding)
Shake the Stars
Colors of Love Series
Lost in Indigo – Colors of Love #1
Touch of a Yellow Sun – Colors of Love #2
The Good Green Earth – Colors of Love #3
Slow Dances Under an Orange Moon – Colors of Love #4 (Coming 2/19/20)
Cayuga Cougars Series
Point Shot Trilogy Boxed Set
Snap Shot – Cayuga Cougars #1
Open Net – Cayuga Cougars #2
Coach’s Challenge – Cayuga Cougars #3
Overtime – Cayuga Cougars #4
One-on-One – Cayuga Cougars #5
A Star-Crossed Christmas – A Cayuga Cougars Holiday Short
Harrisburg Railers Series
Changing Lines – Harrisburg Railers #1 – Coauthored with RJ Scott
First Season – Harrisburg Railers #2 – Coauthored with RJ Scott
Deep Edge – Harrisburg Railers #3 – Coauthored with RJ Scott
Poke Check – Harrisburg Railers #4 – Coauthored with RJ Scott
Last Defense – Harrisburg Railers #5 – Coauthored with RJ Scott
Goal Line – Harrisburg Railers #6 – Coauthored with RJ Scott
Neutral Zone – A Harrisburg Railers Holiday Novella – Coauthored with RJ Scott
Hat Trick – A Harrisburg Railers Novella – Coauthored with RJ Scott
Save the Date – A Harrisburg Railers Novella – Coauthored with RJ Scott
Owatonna U. Hockey Trilogy
Ryker – Owatonna U. Hockey #1 – Coauthored with RJ Scott
Scott – Owatonna U Hockey #2 – Coauthored with RJ Scott
Benoit – Owatonna U. Hockey #3 – Coauthored with RJ Scott
M/F Releases
Pink Pucks & Power Plays (To Love a Wildcat #1)
A Most Unlikely Countess (To Love a Wildcat #2)
O Captain! My Captain! (To Love a Wildcat #3)
Reality Check (To Love a Wildcat #4)
Language of Love (To Love a Wildcat #5)
Final Shifts (To Love a Wildcat #6)
Clean Sweep (Venom #1)
Twirly Girl (Venom #2)
Tape to Tape (Venom #3)
Angle Play (Venom #4)
Flow (Venom #5)
Blueline (Venom #6)
Roster Addition (A To Love a Wildcat novella)