Nulfo’s full lips. “Then get your pants off. I feel the need to examine someone.”
“Yes, sir.” Mitch stripped down while Nulfo crawled up the bed and flopped onto his back with his head on a pillow. What a wonderful sight. All of Nulfo laid out to be touched, to be kissed, to be loved.
Mouth to mouth, mouth to neck, running his lips over Nulfo’s Adam’s apple, then on to eyebrows, nose, and back to mouth, Mitch traveled. He put his hands to good use, skimming his fingers down Nulfo’s chest, over his taut abs, down to fondle his straining cock. “What do you want?” he whispered into his lover’s ear.
“You. Inside me.”
Mitch reached for the nightstand and supplies.
Nulfo grinned. “You don’t need that.”
“Oh?” Mitch ran a finger over Nulfo’s opening. Slick. Waiting. “You planned this!”
“I hoped. No harm in being prepared.”
No harm at all. Mitch slid inside tight heat. “You feel so good.” He scraped his teeth over Nulfo’s neck.
Nulfo bucked up to meet Mitch’s thrusts—a lover’s dance, where each step seemed familiar, and yet new and exciting too.
Taking most of his weight on his arms, Mitch set a steady tempo. How had he ever considered this man a possession to own? Such fire! Such life!
Damn. No time for thinking—simply feeling. Nulfo’s hot breath on his ear, the sweet squeezing of Nulfo’s passage against his cock. Moans, breathy “Ohs” and “ahs”, the bed’s light squeak.
Anything outside their door didn’t matter. They’d rejoin the world soon enough. Mitch reached between their bodies and wrapped a hand around Nulfo’s cock, stroking both outside and inside.
Arnulfo joined a hand to Mitch’s.
Deep brown eyes stared back at Mitch, filled with wonder and love and so many things words alone couldn’t describe, all emotions mirrored in Mitch’s own eyes.
Eyes closed, Nulfo’s long lashes nearly swept his cheeks. His eyes flew open. Every muscle clenched, he bowed up and shot. Mitch’s grip grew slick.
Too perfect, too… “Ahhhh…” Mitch let go on a cry to match Nulfo’s, joining their bodies in the most intimate way possible.
If he’d died now, he’d go a happy man. He slowly withdrew and flopped down on the mattress, breath coming in ragged gasps. Nulfo rolled over and spooned against his side.
Mitch glanced at the clock. They should finish packing.
Later.
For now, he held his man.
Soon they’d board a plane and fly to a place Mitch hadn’t believed at first he’d ever feel comfortable. But now he did, whether in a hospital or at home.
No matter which country.
“You know, Nulfo, I used to consider the US my home.”
“And you don’t now?” Nulfo mumbled against Mitch’s chest.
“Do you still think of El Salvador as your home?”
Arnulfo remained quiet for several moments. “It is, but it isn’t.”
Yeah, Mitch knew the feeling. “If home is where the heart is, then mine is with you and Lida.”
“As mine is with you and her.”
In a tiny village high in the mountains of El Salvador, three young children wrapped a doll’s arm with an old roll of gauze, the way they’d been shown, dreaming of growing up to be just like los doctores Nulfo and Mitch.
About Eden Winters
You will know Eden Winters by her distinctive white plumage and exuberant cry of “Hey, y’all!” in a Southern US drawl so thick it renders even the simplest of words unrecognizable. Watch out, she hugs!
Driven by insatiable curiosity, she possibly holds the world’s record for curriculum changes to the point that she’s never quite earned a degree but is a force to be reckoned with at Trivial Pursuit.
She’s trudged down hallways with police detectives, learned to disarm knife-wielding bad guys, and witnessed the correct way to blow doors off buildings. Her e-mail contains various snippets of forensic wisdom, such as “What would a dead body left in a Mexican drug tunnel look like after six months?”
In the process of her adventures she has written fourteen m/m romance novels, has won several Rainbow Awards, was a Lambda Awards Finalist, and lives in terror of authorities showing up at her door to question her Internet searches. When not putting characters in dangerous situations she’s a mild-mannered business executive, mother, grandmother, vegetarian, and PFLAG activist.
Her natural habitats are airports, coffee shops, and on the backs of motorcycles.
Keep up with Eden and Rocky Ridge Books by joining the newsletter.
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