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“You are a curd,” Sasha informed me, spun on her pink booted heel, and stormed off with Gayle and at least five other women trailing behind her making apologies for me.
“Did she call me a curd? Like...a curd from a tub of cottage cheese or a member of a Turkish minority group?”
“I’m sure she meant cottage cheese. That woman wouldn’t have the slightest idea where Turkey was, trust me. Where have you been all day? I was ready to go find the pig farm and demand to see what was left of your corpse.”
“I was doing my job. Keeping people from running into pigs and vice versa. There was no cell service out that far, and then I had to shower and change into something that wasn’t smeared with hog feces. Sadly, I have no clean uniforms—I never got to the dry cleaner today—so I had to come in street clothes. You’re incredibly nosy for a man I’ve not even decided I want to woo with.”
That comment brought a twinkle to his brown eyes. “Oh stop. You know you want to woo with me, you’re just playing hard to get. I’m glad you’re okay, but I am not thrilled about the lack of cell service. What can be done about that?”
“Talk to the congressman when he shows up and tell him to push for more infrastructure money for rural communities.”
“I’ll do that. For now, let me send Mignon to the dry cleaners for your sexy uniforms while we whisk you through hair and makeup, and then we’ll get you one of them.”
“But I have to wear one that has Mistletoe Corners on it,” I explained. He rolled his eyes as he led me around cables, tracks, and a huddle of people trying to calm down Sasha.
“We’ll see what we can do about that,” he replied, linking his fingers with mine. It was a bold move, and perhaps I should have stopped it, but it felt good. People both native and not watched us walking hand-in-hand toward the makeup trailer.
***
As it turned out, Tonydidn’t do much about my appearing in a crappy Hollywood sheriff uniform. If it didn’t say Mistletoe Corners on it, I wasn’t wearing it on screen. Which was fine. This was probably the last time I’d have to be in this scratchy outfit, anyway. I hoped. While Teddy and the other Rockmountians were thrilled to be part of this adventure, I could have happily lived my whole life without having someone powder my nose.
Another thing I could have lived without was watching Tony kiss Sasha. Seventeen times. Take after take after take. It seemed endless as well as pointless. Each time they kissed, it looked just the same as the time before. Sure, a hand may have moved or a head tilted, but why the hell did a hand make any difference? Also, because I was cold, tired, and hungry, which made me cranky, did Sasha have to keep staring up at Tony as if she loved him? Surely she didn’t have to exude so much passion in a kissing scene? The way she gazed up at him made me itchy. Or perhaps that was the rental uniform. Whatever the case, by the time the stupid tree was lit and the stupid leading man and lady had stupidly kissed a hundred stupid times, I was done with make believe and makeup. It was all stupid.
I stalked off in a snit, eager to be free of this pancake batter on my face and the too-tight pants digging into my balls. Tony finally found me as I was wiggling free of my costume in the wardrobe trailer. He was freshly scrubbed of his makeup and in his own clothes. His smile for me and the young man trying to keep track of all the clothing and hats being chucked at him was refreshing and real.
“Gibraltar, why don’t you go get a snack and something to drink at the diner? They’re handing out fresh cranberry and eggnog tarts,” Tony told the young dude with the silver nose ring. I stood there in my boxers and socks, stunned at the speed the kid raced out of that trailer. The door slammed in his wake. Tony turned those dark eyes to me as he locked the door and then leaned his ass against it. “Now, let’s have a look at you.”
“Tony, if you’re planning on doing something naughty, I need to remind you that I’m a public servant in this town and—”
“Hush now.” He pushed from the door, swaggering to me as if he had just gotten down off a horse in a western as opposed to snogging with his far-too-pretty ex-wife in a holiday rom-com. “I’m well aware of your standing in this community. I’m also well aware of how cross you looked during shooting this evening.”
He closed the distance between us. My cock perked up as Tony reached out with one finger to snap the waist of my boxers softly.
“I dislike standing around in the cold,” I answered as he pulled that lone finger up my belly, across a stiff nipple, and then back down to the elastic on my briefs. By this time, my dick was rock hard and leaking. His gaze moved over my face and then downward, a devilish twitch pulling up one corner of that lush mouth as he spied my erection.
“So it was the cold that made you look like you wanted to chuck Sasha into a pigpen?” He drew a circle around my navel, his eyes glowing now with lust, and then he went to his knees on a pile of winter wear that needed to be sorted by size and hung up.
“Yes,” I grunted out as he buried his face into my belly, his hands coming up and around to cradle my ass as he rooted around like a wee piglet searching for a teat. “Hate the cold...Tony...damn it.”
His lips moved over my prick, rubbing as they went, then gently nipping at the thin cotton of my boxers. His gaze fluttered up to me as he mouthed my cock, brown eyes simmering with desire and a request.
“I never did have any self-control around you,” I admitted, my voice husky. “Take me out quickly.” He did as told, eagerly pulling my dick through the opening and dipping his tongue into the slit to gather up the droplet of precum. My balls tightened at the sight. “Take out your cock now.” Again, he was fast to do as I bid. He’d always like to be led with a strong but gentle hand. “Stroke yourself while you suck me off.”
A shudder ran through him as he worked at his zipper. When his prick was freed, he gave it a long, slow caress before falling on my cock like a starved hound. Knowing him—or having known him—I hoped I was reading the yearning look right. I threaded my fingers into his hair, his purr of pleasure showing me that yes, this was what he wanted. I began to work my dick in and out of his slippery lips, enjoying the sounds that filled the trailer. Slurps and moans, grunts, soft whispers of how good he was at taking me apart. That was no lie. The man had always been able to wreck me physically and emotionally. While it should behoove me to remember how he’d totaled me all those years ago, I couldn’t. Not when he was kneeling before me, taking me to the hilt, his hand on his dick. Perhaps I might not ever be able to distance myself from him again. Perhaps I didn’t want to...
“Coming,” I huffed when my balls drew up. He cooed, the sound vibrating through my spit-slick shaft. My hold on his hair tightened. He moaned long and low as I shot my spend down his throat. I felt the warm splash of his spunk on my calf. I pumped slowly, dragging my dick to rest on his lower lip, then pressing back in, time and again, until the tremors stalled.
“Delicious,” he roughly whispered, licking my cock like an ice cream cone. I rubbed his scalp, easing the sting of the tugs I’d given him, then smiled as he got to his feet.
“Do it,” I said, gathering him close as he slanted his mouth over mine. The cum on his tongue was salty, bitter, and mine. I lapped hungrily, loving the taste of myself in his mouth.
“Was it as good as you remember?” he asked, easing back into my embrace.
“Well, I’m pretty old and my memory ain’t what it used to be, so...maybe?”
“Ass,” he teased back.
“You’ve gotten better with age,” I confessed as I ran my hands up and down his side. “So is oral sex part of wooing?”
