Page 143 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

Smothered?

What the fuck?

Why would he?—

Brendon.

The answer to most every question wasBrendon.

“No. I was learning sex stuff.” My cheeks burned, embarrassed to admit that I didn’t know something. I dropped my head against his shoulder, nosing at the sun-warm skin, hiding a little, still careful so we wouldn’t be overheard. “Sex stuff I would love toshowyou—if you…want me to?”

George made a sound in affirmation.

Once more, I couldn’t help but find his hypocrisy cute. Here he was, upset that I had “run from him” when he was the one that’d done all the running between the two of us.

“Are you coming?” My voice was low with intent, a clear invitation. “You don’t have to.” Consent, consent, consent. “But if you do…” I squeezed him even tighter, placing a light kiss right below his flushed, pink ear. “I’m going to touch you.” George shuddered. “I am going to touch what you’ve got hidden in those slutty little short-shorts.” George made a squawking sound like he wanted to protest what I’d just called his outfit. “And maybe…if you’re my very good boy again…” Another shudder, and a gasp. “I’ll stuff that pretty pink pussy nice and full, just the way you like.”

It was a gamble whether or not he’d like that.

Judging by the breath that escaped him, he did.

“You like that?” I spoke even quieter, directly against his ear. “You like me calling your slutty little hole a pussy?” He’d said he was into breeding. Andwhile the kinks didn’t go hand in hand, I had a feeling he’d like this too.

“Y-yes.”

“Me and my silly nicknames,” I clucked my tongue, pressing the hand I had on his stomach tighter. “Embarrassing, huh, Duchess?”

“Alex.”

“George,” I countered. “C’mon.”

George didn’t need to be told twice.

Obedient as ever.

And so fucking ready for whatever I had in store, he was gagging for it. Like I wasn’t too much for him at all, even like this, loud and unrepentant.

The boathouse felt muggy, the cool breeze from the lake’s surface noticeably missing now that we were hidden inside the large wooden shack. The stilts it rested atop creaked, the steady lap of lake water like a metronome to mark the passing seconds. George’s skin was pink, glistening, and slick with sweat. He tasted like salt and summer, as I pushed him against the back wall, my tongue in his mouth.

He grunted when the wood pressed against his shoulder blades, but returned the kiss just as eagerly.

I loved how obedient he got when we had sex. All his contrary nature thrown out the window. He was a different person entirely—needy, soft, desperate for affection. Touch-starved and eager, George was a waking wet-dream.

“That’s it,” I murmured into his mouth, my hands sliding greedily beneath the hem of his t-shirt. I’d kissed his shoulders, grateful that we’d taken a detour to the showers to clean off the sunscreen and sand before headingback out. His backpack, hiding the lube and his freshly sanitized dildo sat at our feet, momentarily forgotten.

“Mmnff,” George gasped, melting into me. Already his back was tacky, the kinda spongy feeling that only came from heat and perspiration—remnants caused by our trek to the boathouse on the hot summer day. I couldn’t wait to taste it. Couldn’t wait to lick across the salt and see him naked. Couldn’t wait to see his hole. To touch it. To see how much it could stretch.

I’d shot a text to June—because she’d offered to help—unbeknownst to George. She was our lookout, far enough away that she couldn’t hear, but close enough to make sure that no one stumbled upon us.

She’d been almost creepily pleased to be given such an important task, as she sipped the Bloody Mary Roderick had just delivered to her along with her book. He had been on his way out onto the water, probably on one of the wave runners again—or a canoe this time—the same canoes that were usually stored in the empty boathouse we currently occupied.

With everything prepped and ready, and our safety secured, there was nothing left to do but enjoy the fruits of my labor.

“Relax, Georgie.” My hands dragged higher, bringing the hem of his damp t-shirt with them as I tugged it up and over his head. “Let me take care of you.”

Bare now, his chest heaved with a shuddered breath.

He was gorgeous like this, a sunburn line glowing along his shoulder where his collar had slipped. More freckles and moles dotted his chest and abs. And the trail of hair that led from his belly button to his covered cock looked like spun gold. Thicker than you’d expect from a guy who had practically no body hair anywhere else.

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