by Lucy Hawkins
When Hank closed his mouth around Alex’s nipple, he yelped, one hand going to the back of Hank’s head, clenching in his hair. More. He needed more. More kissing, more touching, more friction. Anything. Hank’s slow gentleness was going to be his undoing. He’d come before Hank even touched his dick.
“Patience,” Hank hummed, and Alex’s skin pebbled under his hot breath.
“I don’t know if you knew this about me—” he gasped as Hank bit down lightly on the other nipple, “—but I’m not exactly a patient person.”
He chuckled, sending vibrations down Alex’s spine. Oh, dear God, Hank wanted to kill him. As Hank continued his path south, Alex kept his hand rested in his hair, squeezing every now and again when Hank gnawed on the edge of his rib or dipped his tongue in Alex’s belly button.
Finally, he hovered over Alex’s swollen cock, and Alex’s breath hitched. Please. Please, suck me. Want to feel it. Need it.
“Easy,” Hank said quietly, resting his hands on Alex’s moving hips. “I’ll give you what you need.”
But instead of taking Alex’s cock in his mouth, he pushed Alex’s legs further apart and pushed his thighs back toward his chest. Alex closed his eyes and let his hand fall to the side, his head spinning. What was—
“Oh fuck!” His eyes flew open as Hank pressed his tongue against his hole.
“Shh, you don’t want to wake the guests,” Hank whispered.
He flung his hand across his face, biting down on his forearm to stifle a cry. Hank flicked his tongue across Alex’s entrance, teasing him with his tongue before stroking in long, wet slides. A tremor ran through Alex and he didn’t even try to stop it. His cock leaked against his abdomen. All it would take was one stroke. One touch and he’d be gone.
Pulling away, Hank stared down at him, a fine sheen of sweat misting his face. “Do you think you can come like this? Without me touching you?”
Alex had a sinking feeling they were going to find out. Before he could answer, though, Hank was prodding Alex with his tongue, encouraging him to open up, and Alex did. He couldn’t stop himself from rolling his hips, trying to find some kind of relief for his neglected cock. He raised the arm that wasn’t currently between his teeth and wrapped his fingers around the cool metal rung of the headboard. There. Now maybe he could ignore the temptation to take himself in hand and stroke until he came.
When Hank stopped moving, a strangled noise akin to a sob escaped him. Surely Hank wasn’t going to leave him like this, his entire body thrumming with need. Hank wasn’t cruel. And besides, he’d said he was going to take care of Alex.
Fortunately, Alex’s panic was short-lived. A moment later, a thick finger slid inside of him like a hot knife in butter, liquifying Alex’s bones. Sparks flared behind his eyelids, and he forced his eyes open again, wanting to take it all in.
“Shh, easy baby. Breathe,” Hank murmured.
Right. Breathing was important. He inhaled deeply, and on the exhale, Hank slid another finger inside of him.
“Hank, I can’t—I need—”
“I know. I know what you need. Just let me.”
Slowly, he stroked inside Alex, his free hand steadying Alex’s hip. He gasped as the pads of Hank’s fingers dragged across his prostate, the sensation somehow too much and not enough. But Hank wasn’t letting up. Shifting down, he pressed the flat of his tongue against the smooth strait of skin between Alex’s balls and hole.
Alex let out a yelp, his entire body seizing. This was how he was going to die. Hard and aching and desperate to come.
“Please,” he begged as Hank’s fingers continued to move. “Please, Hank I need it. Touch me.”
No more games. He was aching and leaking, every muscle tensed and ready to release. But he couldn’t come without being touched. Maybe if he were a little more sober or a little less exhausted, but not tonight.
Fortunately, Hank took pity on him. His fingers stroked faster, tongue lapping at Alex’s perineum, while his free hand snaked up Alex’s thigh to wrap around his cock. He managed maybe half a dozen strokes before Alex’s whole body seized and he came, his shout muffled by his arm.
Hank kept going until Alex came down, then removed his fingers, his hand moving to his own cock, which was flushed and leaking.
“Can I… will you suck me?” he rasped.
Alex’s mouth watered. “Please.”
He shifted so he was sitting up a bit and uncurled his fingers from the headboard, wincing at the slight ache. Hank moved back up his body, his knees resting on either side of Alex’s torso. From this angle, he looked even more beautiful than normal, the muscles of his stomach clenched and his chest heaving as he breathed. Alex did that to him. He preened at the realization.
Grabbing Hank’s hip, he pulled him closer and darted his tongue out to catch the clear bead of fluid that collected at the tip of Hank’s straining cock. Hank groaned through clenched teeth, and Alex grinned. Oh yeah. It was his turn to make Hank beg.
He guided Hank forward and opened his mouth, taking him as deep as he could. The angle wasn’t what he would have liked, but he was hardly going to make them pause what they were doing just so he could flip them. So instead, he focused on the head of Hank’s cock, stroking the underside with his tongue as he bobbed his head. Hank was already close, so it wouldn’t take long, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was making it good.
Alex stroked what wouldn’t fit in his mouth with his free hand, before trailing downward to cup Hank’s balls. They were hot and full in his palm, drawn tight. A hazy idea lit inside his brain, and he pulled his hand away, sticking his finger in his mouth alongside Hank’s cock. He slicked it with his spit, then spread Hank’s ass cheeks and pressed the wet fingertip against his hole.
Hank’s hips surged forward, making him gag and splutter. Tears stung in Alex’s eyes, but he blinked them back. Well that had certainly gotten a reaction. He did it again, slower this time, until his finger was completely buried inside Hank, whose breathing had turned ragged.
He hollowed his cheeks, sucking in tandem with the movements of his finger. Hank’s harsh pants gave way to breathy moans, and Alex tried to look up to catch his expression. The angle sent a sharp pain down his neck, but it was worth it to see Hank. His head was thrown back, mouth slack with pleasure, and his eyes squeezed shut. The man looked like he was straight out of a porno.
A moment later, Hank’s entire body went taut as the first crest of his orgasm washed over him. Alex swallowed reflexively as Hank shuddered, working him through his aftershocks. Once Hank had finally stilled, Alex licked him clean and let him pull off.
Hank all but collapsed on the mattress, breathing heavily. “God, that was…”
Alex tried to nod but gave up. “Yep.”
He wasn’t sure what it meant, or if it meant anything at all. There would be time to think about that later when his brain wasn’t hazy from alcohol and the most mind-blowing orgasm he’d ever had. So instead of dwelling on it, he curled onto his side and nestled against Hank’s chest as sleep overtook him.
Fourteen
Hank
Something was screaming at him. He rolled over, trying to get away from the noise, but the sun shining through the blinds pulled him further away from sleep. Was it really five-thirty already? Slamming down on the snooze button, he muttered a curse and tried to bury his head underneath his pillow.
The wedding guests who had spent the night at the inn would be stirring in a few hours, and Hank needed to have breakfast ready for them when they did. Beside him, Alex stirred, letting out a sleepy hum as he shifted closer to Hank. Never before had he been so tempted to say fuck it and fall back to sleep with his arms wrapped around the man in his bed.
“What time is it?” Alex asked, without opening his eyes. His voice was thick with sleep.
“Half past five. I’ve got to get up and start on breakfast.”
Alex groaned in protest, his eyes still closed. He pulled the covers up around his neck, pressing him
self against Hank. If he kept it up, the guests could starve.
“Shit. I need a shower. And coffee. And definitely some aspirin.”
“Use my bathroom,” Hank said. “There’s aspirin in the medicine cabinet, and I’ll have coffee ready in the kitchen once you’re done.”
“You’re a saint of a man, Hank Morrison.”
Leaning over, Hank pressed a kiss to Alex’s temple. “Not a saint. Just a man who’s had a hangover or two in his lifetime. I need to shower first, but you can use it after me.”
Rather than answering, Alex simply nodded and disappeared under a mound of blankets.
As he’d drifted off to sleep the night before, Hank had wondered how this morning would go, if the situation would seem strange in the light of day. But Alex seemed to be taking it in stride. And he looked oddly right in Hank’s bed. Like he belonged there. That sight alone almost had Hank asking for a quickie before their hectic day began.
Instead, he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and climbed out of bed. He grabbed a change of clothes and headed into his en suite, then turned on the shower. Maybe he should have asked Alex to join him. His soapy, lithe body would slide up against Hank’s. The shower was large enough for two, and it even had a bench seat. His cock stirred at the thought, but it would have to wait. He had too much to do today.
The night before had been explosive—intimate in ways Hank had never imagined sex could be. His other partners hadn’t been bad, not at all. But there had always been something missing with them. Nothing was missing with Alex. Their bodies fit together perfectly, and the pleasure was almost more than Hank could handle. And with Alex, he didn’t feel the need to slink away before sunrise to avoid the awkwardness that inevitably came the morning after sex.
Hank quickly toweled off, pulling on jeans and a T-shirt before opening the door to his bedroom. Steam billowed out into the room. It was certainly a good thing they had a large hot water tank. Alex was awake, sitting up in bed and scrolling on his phone. Crossing the room, Hank leaned down to kiss him gently.
“Not even out of bed and you’re already working?” he teased.
“Weddings Quarterly has already posted a sneak peek for their article online.” Alex held up his phone. “It’s been liked hundreds of times and has a shit ton of comments.”
“All good, I hope?” Please, let them all be good. Alex deserved a win.
“All great. People are already asking about the venue. I knew this was going to be good business for you.”
“And you as well, right?”
Alex hesitated. “I’m not sure what any of this means for me right now.” He pressed a quick kiss to Hank’s cheek. “I better go shower and sneak back to my room for a change of clothes.”
His tone had gone flat, and Hank knew he was the reason. He should have known better than to bring up such a touchy subject.
“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll go downstairs and get started on that coffee for you.”
Hopefully that would cheer him up. Alex loved his coffee. Even when he didn’t have a reason to be at the inn, he’d dropped by just for a cup. Sure, he would make excuses, but Hank knew he was lying.
His mind was on autopilot as he went about grinding beans and starting the coffee. Instead, he thought of Alex. Their encounter the night before had been special, unlike anything he had ever done with anyone else. It meant everything to him. Alex was the man he’d wanted for so long, and now that he’d had him, Hank didn’t want it to be a one-time thing. But what did Alex want? What had this meant to him? Last night had been a mix of emotions, and there was always a chance Alex would want to sweep the entire thing under the rug. Hank could only hope that wasn’t the case.
The extra staff Alex had hired were already busy scrambling eggs and chopping vegetables, but Alex had entrusted Hank to act as head chef through brunch. He hadn’t expected to feel so at ease giving orders and making sure everything was under control in the kitchen and dining areas, but surprisingly, he was in his element. It was nice to feel as though he was able to achieve something when the rest of his life was largely a mess.
The kitchen door swung open, and Alex walked over to a barstool, dragging himself up onto it. “I need coffee.”
Hank grinned. “Why is it that’s the first thing you always say to me?”
“Because I’m not human until I have coffee, especially when I stayed up well past two and drank an absurd amount of ridiculously expensive scotch.”
“Fair point,” he said with a shrug. “One caffeine boost, coming right up.”
While the coffee finished brewing, Hank grabbed a scone and set it down in front of Alex.
“What’s this?” Alex asked.
“Orange and cardamom scone with an orange glaze. I figured you might need something to soak up all that alcohol before brunch.”
“Oh.” Picking up the pastry, Alex took a small bite as Hank poured his coffee. “Holy shit. I shouldn’t be surprised it’s good, but it’s really fucking good. Another one of your aunt’s recipes?”
Hank shook his head. “That came from a bit of trial and error. It’s all mine.”
“You could sell this, you know. All of your stuff, actually. You’d make a killing if you opened up a bakery.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure the Waites would be pissed if I tried to compete with Magnolia’s.”
“That sounds like their problem.” Was it Hank’s imagination or did Alex sound bitter? Did it have something to do with why he refused to go to Magnolia’s?
“Besides,” Hank said, “I have enough on my plate running the inn. I don’t need any more responsibility.”
“It was only a suggestion,” Alex grumbled.
“And a good one. If I had the staff, who knows? Now drink your coffee. We have guests to see to, and I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
Nearly two dozen guests had stayed at The Lakeside the night before, filling every single room and the two lake houses Hank had fixed up. Since Hazel’s family was all local, they had elected to stay at their own homes, which meant the guests in question were the same city folks who’d sent him running in a hundred different directions the night before.
This morning didn’t look to be any better. Alex might have put him in charge of the kitchen, but between the guest who demanded room service, the couple who complained about a lack of hot water, and one particularly irate man who refused to pay because his bed was uncomfortable, Hank spent most of his morning putting out fires—in one case, a literal fire, as one of the extra staff had managed to leave a tea towel too close to the stove. One would never imagine The Lakeside was getting rave reviews online. As great as the wedding had been for business, Hank was more than ready to send these guests packing.
When everyone was finally taken care of and sitting down for brunch, Hank took a break of his own. He plated up a Monte Cristo Benedict, though he avoided the mimosa the guests seemed to be enjoying. The last thing he needed was more alcohol. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, though. Laughter and chatter carried through the door to the dining room, and Hank closed his eyes, allowing himself to breathe for the first time in a month.
His thoughts inevitably turned back to Alex, who had been sitting to the left of Hazel when Hank had retreated to the kitchen. At least he looked a bit less hungover than he had this morning. Sometime in the near future, they needed to talk about what had happened and what it meant for them. Hank’s traitorous thoughts had already halfway planned out a life for them where they ran the inn and Alex ran his wedding business. It would be a great partnership, if that was what Alex wanted. But based on his reaction to the article preview, Alex wasn’t interested in running a wedding business. For all Hank knew, he wasn’t even interested in a relationship.
“Someone looks broody this morning,” Rhiannon said, walking over to the coffee pot. “You wanna talk about it?”
It would be so easy to spill everything to Rhiannon. She wasn’t the kind of person to spread rumors, s
o his secret would even be safe with her. But before he talked to anyone else, he needed to talk to Alex. Needed to find out what he thought about all this.
“It’s just the guests, that’s all.” That wasn’t even a lie. At least brunch seemed well-received. No one had complained about it so far, but Hank wasn’t holding his breath. These people would find anything to complain about.
Rhiannon shrugged. “That’s city people for you. Not all of them, mind you. Hazel seems nice enough, and so does her husband, from what I can tell. But the others… well, they like to find fault in every little thing.”
“Yeah, well, they’ve certainly done that. Mr. Austin in room seven thought he could get a free stay by complaining about the bed.”
“What’s wrong with the bed?” Rhiannon asked, then took a sip of coffee.
“It was too hard, apparently.”
“To be fair, the place could probably use some new beds.”
New beds, a new coat of paint, eighty-thousand dollars to stay afloat… “I know, Rhi. But until our regular guests start complaining, there’s not a whole lot I can do about it. More than likely, he’s just too used to sleeping on six thousand count sheets and a memory foam mattress.”
“God help him if he ever decides to go camping.”
Hank snickered at the thought. When he was younger, he loved to set up a tent on the lakeside with nothing but a sleeping bag, a lantern, and a good book. He’d build a fire and cook eggs in a cast iron skillet, only coming in to use the bathroom and shower. Somehow, he couldn’t see Mr. Austin from room seven ever deciding to do something like that.
“At least the extra staff did a good job cleaning the grounds up. I’ll tackle the rooms as soon as the guests check out,” Rhiannon said.
The phone rang as Hank nodded, and he swallowed his mouthful of food quickly. “The Lakeside Inn, this is Hank speaking. How may I help you?”