Home For Christmas
Destrie Two Rivers and Benedict Webster–an orphaned half-Indian and a wealthy rancher’s son. Men who were boyhood best friends, turned secret lovers when they were eighteen. And then one nightmarish night they were discovered and Destrie almost died as a result.
Now, eight years later, just before Christmas, Destrie, an Army sniper, returns to Wyoming on leave to attend the funeral of his foster father. Both men have changed and the distance between them seems wider than the Continental Divide with no way to breach the chasm. But just as the creek where they first made love runs powerful and constant, Destrie and Benedict’s passion for each other still burns undeniably deep
Re-igniting their unquenchable desire could prove fatal. Until the heavy guilt and shocking secrets of the past are revealed, neither of these two men can truly come home for Christmas.
“How’s Laine holding up?” Benedict asked.
“It’s not easy for her, but I think she’ll be okay. They were married for fifty years, and she always said Ray was her best friend. You’ll look in on her?”
“Of course.” Benedict’s voice sounded rough. The white peaks in the water surged; Ray’s ashes had disappeared.
Destrie looked down and noted Benedict’s hands as his fingers curled around the brim of his hat. Destrie could feel his tension, saw it as he flexed his fingers, rubbing over the rim.
A working man’s hands, rough and calloused. Reddened by the winter, his hands were littered with tiny cuts. Destrie dropped the urn and spun to Benedict. He cupped Benedict’s roughened jaw, leaned forward, and kissed him.
Benedict’s hands clutched at Destrie’s leather jacket, dragging him forward. Destrie tasted the bitterness of farewell, and he couldn’t let go. He couldn’t be the one to walk away—not this time.
Tongues clashed, mouths hungered as they held on to each other, knowing this could very well be the last time they would ever see each other.
Benedict yanked free and stumbled back. Just as he’d done in the alley, he bent over to pick up his hat. And soon it would only be the memory that remained.
Suddenly, Destrie reached out and grabbed a shank of Benedict’s pale blond hair. He yanked up. Benedict yelled as he was brought up swift and hard by Destrie’s grip. Destrie saw his gaze widen. Throwing his body against Benedict’s, he shoved him back against the immovable, wide, ancient tree.
He held his lover there, hand wound tightly into his thick hair. Benedict stared into his eyes. Destrie saw the range of emotions as they crashed through him, the color of Benedict’s eyes changing so rapidly. Sky blue deepening to storm gray. Pinpoints of black that dilated as he began to yield to the savageness that overtook Destrie. Finally understanding. He knew what Destrie wanted without his saying a word.
Destrie yanked back, practically pinning Benedict against the rough bark, shoving his coat down over his shoulders. Benedict’s thick coat dropped to the ground. His hands reached for his belt, and he quickly unbuckled and unzipped his jeans, then shoved them and his underwear down over his hips. Legs spread, balancing himself in the slippery snow; the lowered clothing hung just below his ass.
Destrie released his hair and spun him around. He kicked Benedict’s legs as wide as they would go. Reaching down, he grabbed a handful of snow and held it in his warm palm until droplets trickled between his fingers.
He couldn’t wait. He and Benedict were almost the same height. He used the snow to lubricate Benedict’s hole. He heard Benedict gasp when the icy water was pressed into the passage of his hot anus. He shoved back when Destrie’s fingers speared inward, then quickly out. More snow and Benedict’s ass colored from pale ivory to ruddy rose.
Suddenly Benedict whirled around. He shoved Destrie back full force. Destrie stumbled and landed in the snow. He didn’t feel it; his full attention was the man towering over him, a look of steely determination on his face.
“Did you think I was going to make it easy for you?” Benedict said.
He dragged Destrie up by the lapels of his jacket. Spinning around, he slammed him back against the tree and possessed his mouth, thrusting his tongue deeply between Destrie’s lips.
Destrie was so taken aback by the dominant act, at first he didn’t respond. Benedict’s hands were at his waist, ripping the tails of his shirt from inside his pants, reaching for the opening, unzipping them, and then he shoved them down. His mouth ravaged across Destrie’s lips, over his lean, darkened jaw, back to his mouth, down to his throat. He sucked his way downward to the opened collar.
Anger and frustration warred with passion and lust right there next to the creek bank. The cold, frigid winter was no match for the hungry, blazing furnace of their need.
Benedict lifted his head and looked into Destrie’s black eyes. “Now, you have me.”
Destrie didn’t wait to even catch a breath. With little effort, he shoved Benedict back against the tree. He was hard, so fucking hard. He positioned the head of his cock at Benedict’s opening.
“You’ll feel this, lover. You’ll feel it, and you’ll never forget it.” He surged forward, burying his thick prick inside Benedict’s rectum. Benedict grunted as Destrie’s cock tunneled deep inside him.
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