Page 88 of The CEO and the Mountain Man

Today, by contrast, was beautiful and so full of joy. Clark had put together a delicious Christmas dinner, and we’d sat around, sharing our favorite Christmas stories, talking about what we hoped Christmas could be like. It would always be a sad anniversary, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t find meaningful traditions. Pockets of joy.

Moments of sadness gave way to moments of cheer, and I couldn’t believe my incredible luck to form a family with these men.

I’d also grown closer to Miguel in the months since we both met the loves of our lives. Miguel, despite his artful aesthetic, had always been a bit more serious than most of the guys his age, certainly more serious than most gave him credit for.

Still, River bring out the affection and love in my friend. It had been amazing to witness. As they continued to get to know each other, I saw firsthand the work they were putting into this relationship.

After dinner, River and Miguel disappeared to the other side of Clark’s frankly massive condo. The first time I came to visit, I’d been intimidated by the location and the styling, wondering what the hell Clark ever saw in a hick like me. Before I could say the first word about it, he looked deep into my soul and shook his head.

“These are just the trappings, Beau. They don’t mean anything without someone to love. Someone to come home to.”

Easy words to say, but at every step of the way, Clark proved he meant every word. He let himself lean on me, and I on him. We just worked.

Coming back to the present, I grabbed his hand, leading him to his bedroom. “So, how much are you worth?” I joked. “Are we talking sugar daddy situation or…”

Clark tsked. “If you want me to be your sugar daddy, you’re gonna have to put out a hell of a lot more.”

He was a nerd in khakis, but he was funny as hell. And far too patient for the likes of me.

We got behind closed doors, and our clothes, as always, seemed to fall right off.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he said, his cheeks flushed with wine and emotion.

We were both smiling far too broadly to make kissing work, and yet that didn’t stop us from trying anyway. It was a disaster, of course, but I didn’t care. We made out, finally, for several minutes, plundering each other, rubbing against each other, making each other feel wonderful.

After a few long, lazy moments, Clark pulled away and settled back against his headboard. He widened his legs and patted the open space between his thighs. “Time for your punishment.”

I grinned and quickly settled into place.

This was the first night we were going without condoms. I’d been looking forward to it for a long time, and so, surprisingly, was Clark. We’d had to work through a few of his own insecurities, given that his experience with men was that one stupid guy from college who didn’t know what he had.

Thankfully, every time I nearly blinded him with how hard I’d come, it reminded him that he’s actually pretty fucking good at this.

I leaned back against his chest, loving that I could tell he’s happier because he has a little more cushion back there. He was, of course, beautiful to me way back in the summer, but I was grateful to see that he’d developed a little bit of a belly, that his appetite had returned, and that he’d kept his promises about being more conscientious about getting enough to eat.

Most of that had to do with diligently working with his therapist, learning techniques to reduce stress, including meditation.

And edging.

I wasn’t complaining.

As soon as I settled against him, his hands, already oiled, immediately went to my nipples.

“Breathe in for four counts, out for six,” he whispered.

We breathed together, exhaling in unison while he stretched and twisted my nipples into hard little knobs. We continued breathing in tandem as he slicked my body, driving me insane with those oily hands of his.

By the time he touched my cock, I was begging. Pleading. Offering to do the dishes for the first year of our cohabitation.

He only laughed and kept rubbing my thighs.

His talented hands were currently split between cupping my balls and stroking my shaft, far, far too lightly. I would take anything I could get, though I couldn’t help but cheat a little, rocking my hips, searching out friction from his hands.

He knew exactly how much to give me to keep me riding on that edge.

“If you don’t stop squirming, I’m going to impale you on my cock and keep you in place.”