Christmas in Copper Creek by Cherie Noel

Author:Cherie Noel
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Tags: gay romance
Publisher: MLR Press LLC
Published: 2015-12-27T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOUR

Sam

Patric added another finger to the two already stretching Sam open, and then he dipped down to press his mouth against Sam’s. Evil fucker. Like Sam could figure out which way was up now. He shivered, tingles of electricity racing over his skin and the pulsing want-need-more-more-more of his blood drowning out all other thoughts. Then Patric moved his hand away, leaving Sam emptier than he’d ever been.

“Non, revenir ici et de me donner à nouveau vos doigts.”

The rotten bastard chuckled, shifting around until—

“Ooooooh, oui, plus vite, encore.”

Patric gave a low, gravel filled laugh as he began to push his cock into Sam’s ass. Shallow thrusts in and out, that pushed a bit further in each time, his big hands holding Sam steady when he would have pushed for more as fast as possible. Sacre bleu. With every inch Patric gained, Sam lost another fraction of his mind. Patric was bigger than Sam remembered, certainly bigger than any of Sam’s toys. The stretch rode a fine line between pleasure and pain, even as careful as Patric forced himself to go. Sam liked a little burn in his sex, and damn if that wasn’t what Patric gave him in perfect proportion. Sam bore down, blowing out a long, slow breath. He just needed to hang on for a second or two and it would all be worthwhile. One heartbeat passed. Two. Three. Then Patric did something mindboggling with his hips, pulling out and shoving back in with a circling motion, and Sam couldn’t stop the whine escaping from his throat.

“Baises moi. Défonces-moi, oh oui, encore, encore.”

Sam didn’t know how much of his French Patric understood, but the likelihood he understood enough to grasp the gist of it seemed high when he responded with short bursts of laughter. They fell from Patric’s mouth like honey dripping from one of those beehive shaped dippers. Sam wanted to lick the sweet golden sounds right out of Patric’s mouth. Sadly, he couldn’t reach. Instead he turned his head to the right, rubbing the side of his face against Patric’s wrist and forearm. He itched with the need for something more, though he couldn’t seem to find more than a single word in English.

“Please—”

Patric seemed to understand all the unspoken words behind Sam’s craving. He slid Sam’s leg off his shoulder, shoving both arms under Sam’s back to grip the tops of his shoulders from behind. Rearing back onto his heels, Patric manhandled Sam into his lap. Then he pistoned powerful thrusts up into Sam over and over until the red hot flare of passion between them ignited in an incendiary conflagration that burned through Sam in a blinding flare of white heat.

Someone shouted. Sam thought it was probably him, but he couldn’t be sure. When he finally regained enough brain function to pry his eyes open, he was still sprawled across Patric’s lap. His throat burned. Patric was still thrusting, each movement sending aftershocks of pleasure throughout Sam. His movements sped and stuttered in fits and starts.

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