Page 71 of King of the Crease

The thought of more alcohol makes my stomach turn.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks.

“Also doing well. Slight hangover, but nothing some ibuprofen can’t manage.” I keep drinking in the sight of him, his furry stomach hanging over the blanket. He holds himself with total confidence.

“You’re too far away.” Hank pats the empty space where I was lying. “I think he wants to get back in bed.”

Hank points at my erection, which refuses to abate in his presence. Embarrassment makes me cover it again.

I rejoin Hank in the warm bed, and he immediately pulls me to him for a morning kiss. Heat glistens in his eyes. I never want to leave this bed.

“Love kissing you,” I murmur.

“I see you’re back to your regular accent.” He kisses down my neck.

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t remember? You began speaking in a British-European-type accent.”

“I did that?” I laugh, then kiss him again while I think of an excuse. I get lost in the heat of Hank’s mouth, our tongues swirling around one another. “I was really drunk.”

“But not so drunk you don’t remember…” He motions between us.

“I definitely remember that. I remember this, too.” I grip his hardening cock, fat and heavy in my hand. Hank groans against my lips.

“You were so funny last night. You even said you were a crown prince.” Hank laughs against my lips.

“I’m a ridiculous drunk.” For a second, I think about telling him the truth. We’ve shared and bared so much already. I’ve never been so intimate with another person.

But I can’t do it. I’m too scared to open that can of worms. The truth will change everything. I want to stay cocooned with Hank in this moment.

Hank handles me with ease like his hockey stick, smoothing his hands down my back and turning me over so I’m lying on my back. He hovers over me.

“I don’t want to crush you,” he says. “I know I’m a bigger guy.”

“I want you to. I want to feel all of you.”

Hank lies right on top of me, smoothing hair away from my face. I spread my legs so he can rest in between them. His cock moves dangerously close to my opening. I remember that we have unused lube and condoms.

We kiss until my lips start to go numb. I caress his back and drift down to his big, hockey ass, round and firm like two large loafs of sourdough bread. I slide a finger in his crack.

“You’re a horny bastard.” He arches an eye at me, and I swear if he does that again, I’m going to come.

Hank’s gaze turns tender for a moment. Our eyes lock in, shutting out the world. The early sunlight gives them a honey glow.

“I’m so glad you came to Sourwood.” He gives me a soft kiss on the lips.

“Me, too.” I give him one back.

“Last night, we said we were boyfriends. I know we were drunk, but…do you still want to be my boyfriend?”

The earnestness quivering in his voice nearly breaks me. I worried I’d go my entire life without ever finding someone. I’ve never wanted anything more.

There’s just the problem of this one little lie between us. I swallow my shame down, not ready for the repercussions of telling him the truth. I want Hank to keep looking at me exactly the way he’s doing now. He wants to be with Nick from Baltimore, not Prince Nicholas.

“I do. Do you want to be mine?”

“Hell yeah.”