No Good Mitchell - Riley Hart Page 0,47

like melancholy twisted up with embarrassment, wash over me. “It’s nothing really. I mean, I go places. I just…stick out. I haven’t stuck out since I was a kid in foster care. For all that Southern hospitality you’re supposed to have, people look at me like I don’t belong and tell me the craziest shit.”

“Aw, I’ll protect you when we go out—well, not that I can go out with you.” He said it as a joke, but we both paused for a moment, letting that sink in. We legit were hiding our friendship because of a feud from over a hundred years ago. “Come on.” Brody shoved to his feet.

“Where are we going? Into town? We can go have a drink with Lauren at the Barn.”

“Um, no, but I have something maybe a little better. Do you have a blanket? And towels, we need towels. Grab a bag.”

“Yes, sir!” I teased, but yeah, I was excited too.

“I got all the stuff,” Brody said, stuffing everything into a backpack, then leading me out the back door and through my property.

“You sure as shit know a lot about the Mitchell land.”

“I told you why. Hell, I’ve explored the whole damn thing.”

I followed along as we made our way across the grassy hills, through the field, to the woods.

It took us a good thirty minutes before we reached the foot of a hill and the base of the creek, where a little swimming hole awaited us. It was a different spot from where Brody had taken me last time.

“Last one in is a rotten egg!” Brody ripped his shirt off, then his shoes and jeans.

“Nope. Stop right there, country boy.” I walked over, hooked my fingers in the edges of his briefs, and tugged them down. “You brought me out here, I’m damn sure going to enjoy the view. You’re going skinny-dipping with me.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Brody

“You naughty little fuck,” I told Cohen as he slid my briefs down my legs. I stepped out of them, and he leaned in and swiped his tongue along the length of my cock. Slow, skilled movements that reminded me I had a lot of catching up to do. I was surprised at how quickly I perked up, but I hardly had time to think about that when I was busy enjoying the sensation of him taking my cock into his mouth.

He took his time, and then, in an instant it seemed, let my cock drop from his mouth, the warm air sticking to the saliva he’d left behind. I opened my eyes to see why he’d abandoned such impressive work, but he was gone.

His pants, boxers, socks, and underwear were all that remained, and had I not heard movement behind me, I would have suspected he’d spontaneously combusted while giving me a BJ.

“The hell?” I spun around to see his bare ass cheeks bouncing around as he flung his shirt off over his head.

“Looks like I’m not a rotten egg, after all,” he called back to me.

“Motherfucker,” I muttered, racing after him.

He was already diving in by the time I reached the pond, but I went in headfirst after him. It was just the right temperature—not too cool, only enough to quiet my lingering annoyance at having been bested by a trickster.

We resurfaced around the same time. Water streamed from his flat bangs, webbing along smooth features that reminded me so much of his father in the photo we’d seen in the tasting room.

“Sneaky fuck,” I said as a broad grin stretched across his face.

“Hey, you were the one who wanted a head start, so I gave your head a start while taking one of my own. Besides, this is something an O’Ralley should have expected from a no-good Mitchell.”

“Guess it was worth it since I got a good view of these melons,” I said, swimming to him. When I reached him, I grabbed his ass and squeezed, thinking about how it had jiggled on his jog to the water.

“You sure do seem to enjoy a man’s ass for someone who wasn’t sure about his attraction to guys.”

“I’m confident I would have known more about my sexuality if I’d seen this ass sooner.”

A hint of pink filled his cheeks, and it was enough for me to say, “Ooh, I made you blush.”

“What? Pfft. Probably sunburn.”

“You always get a little sunburned when you find yourself smitten with me, Mr. Mitchell?”

The pink turned a little darker, assuring me I wasn’t wrong. “Shut the fuck up—”

Before he could go on, I

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