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Your Wish (Kinley Island #4)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Raleigh Ruebins

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B08264YFQZ
Book Information:

Chances of a guy like him wanting a nerd like me? Zero point zero zero six percent. Approximately.

Charlie:
Computers have always made more sense than people do. But I fall asleep next to my laptop in bed every night, wishing I had someone warm to hold. When I was forced to attend a holiday work party, I was a nervous wreck, but determined to make a good impression.

Then Dean Aldridge showed up just in time to find me breaking the rules, complete with whiskey dripping down my chin. And he was one million times hotter in person than in the magazines. I was an awkward mess. Dean was cocky, flirty, and every bit the playboy I expected. I never thought he’d look twice at a guy like me, but now I know that Dean’s reputation for being hot as fire in bed is true.

When he finds out I’ll be alone for Christmas, he invites me to his family’s cabin. I can’t say no. I don’t have much experience, but I know his body is addictive. I can’t stop, even though I’ve never done this before. Small problem: I’m falling for him. Hard. And for once, this isn’t something I can hack my way out of.

Dean:
I don’t go for quiet, shy, awkward guys. I’m the life of the party, and I need someone on my level. Someone experienced like me.

So why do I want Charlie so badly?
Two words: Hot. Nerd.

It doesn’t take long before we collide in bed. On the floor, actually, because Charlie is way filthier than he seems. He’s more than just pure lust under all the awkward, though. He’s worked his way into my heart and head.

Once I’ve had a taste of him, I don’t want anyone else–even though I don’t do relationships. When I learn he’ll be spending Christmas alone due to a broken family life, I can’t help but invite him to my family’s cabin. He says he only needs me physically, but for the first time, I might be catching feelings.

Books in Series:

Kinley Island Series by Raleigh Ruebins

Books by Author:

Raleigh Ruebins Books

1

Dean

I was rock hard, lying on my living room floor with my fist around my cock and a finger up my own ass. Two different types of lube, a blue dildo, and a glittery plastic cock ring were on the floor next to me. I’d used every combination of them over the past hour trying to push myself to the brink, and I was so damn close. One of my legs was slung over the side of the couch, and the other was on the floor. The sounds of a drunk, swearing Santa were playing in the background.

I can explain myself.

It’s not that watching Bad Santa had turned me on, or that the nice snow that had started to fall outside had suddenly gotten me so horny that I had to strip naked, move from the couch to the floor, and end up in my current predicament.

But I was alone—totally alone, in my absurdly big Seattle mansion—for the first time in forever. I’d just gotten back from a trip to Hawaii. Later tonight, I was flying off again to Vegas. For six hours, I had nothing to do, and I desperately wanted release. I’d texted so many people asking if they’d come over, but I’d come up empty.

I wasn’t accustomed to being on my own. My version of a calm, relaxing night at home usually involved at least ten people coming over and enjoying my hot tub with me, and then later on, any combination of those people enjoying my bed.

But today I’d just been bored. And now here I was an hour after getting home, lying on the floor, gripping my cock as it throbbed uncontrollably, with a finger knuckle-deep inside me. Edging myself, endlessly.

I knew it had been the right call to spring for the super soft shag rug in the living room. This all would have been so much more uncomfortable on the hardwood.

I reached up and fumbled around for my remote control, finally muting the sounds of Bad Santa robbing a store. I put the remote control back up on the coffee table.

And that’s when my arm grazed the pint glass full of whiskey and Coke I had up there, and the entire glass tipped over and spilled across my naked body.

“Holy fuck,” I said, shuddering as cold liquid suddenly splashed over every inch of me. Goosebumps spread across my skin, and I tensed up in shock.

So much for the nice shag rug.

I’d never had carbonation on my balls before, but there was a first time for everything. Rivulets of whiskey dripped down my thighs, running around the base of my cock. I paused for a moment, considering my options.

And it only took two seconds to make a decision.

Like hell I was going to let this stop me.

I’d come in weirder places than in a puddle of my own soda and liquor, and right now I was determined.

I brought my hand down to my cock again, groaning at how sensitive I was, even to a light touch. It was all fizzy and wet and sticky now, but sometimes in life, you’ve just got to persevere. My entire body ached for release. I wasn’t going to last much longer, and I wanted it to be good.

I wished so badly that someone was here to help me. A man, this time, maybe. Somebody to place his lips around my needy cock, someone who would drag his tongue down me, milking me, telling me he wanted nothing more than to see me lose control and come so hard for him. And I would. Inside him. I wanted somebody who knew my body even better than I did, who would take me to the edge and then catch me when I started to fall.

And, yes, hopefully someone who liked the same alcoholic beverages I did. Because he’d be bound to have whiskey and Coke coating his tongue now, too.

I could have gone to a bar and prowled for somebody hot like I usually did. But I kind of didn’t want anything anonymous right now. I wanted something real. People had been asking me what I wanted for Christmas, and maybe what I needed was someone who could handle me, in every sense of the word.

But right now, the only thing handling me was my sticky hand. And an increasingly uncomfortable thread of weird loneliness, now, threatening to ruin my otherwise delicious jerk-off session.

I dragged my palm across my balls, up my shaft, and began to tighten my fingers around my cock again. Precum was now leaking out of me, practically begging me to just finally come already. I was so turned on I could barely stand it, even as I felt soda bubbles traveling along my spine. I licked my lips and tasted whiskey that would have been so much better in me than on me.


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