Hitching It Read online Riley Hart, Devon McCormack (Metropolis #4.5)

Categories Genre: Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: , Series: Metropolis Series by Riley Hart
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Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
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“Don’t worry,” Hayden says. “I’m pretty sure everyone in this room has seen every inch of this.”

Cody looks to Hayden, surprised. “Wait. You and Derek messed around?”

“What? Ew, no. At the holiday fundraiser the other week.”

Cody’s eyes light up as he clearly recalls the incident. “Oh, that’s right. The jello shots!”

I can hardly appreciate what an amazing time I had at the event now that I’m more than slightly annoyed. “So not only did my dream of a pre-wedding gangbang get destroyed, but now I learn my supposed friend thinks the mere idea of having messed around with me is…ew-worthy? Wow.” I slide into bed, lounging beside Jackson. “You think you know a guy.”

Hayden rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on. I meant that in a that’d-be-like-fucking-a-cousin sort of way.”

“All that says to me is that you wouldn’t have been a very good cousin,” I kid with a wink, which makes Hayden cringe and Cody laugh. Before Hayden has a chance to comment back, I hear the door open, and turn to see Frankie and Evan heading in. Frankie carries a tray of glasses while Evan has a pitcher of what looks like orange juice.

“We’ve got the mimosas!” Evan calls out.

I let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God.”

“Sorry that our surprise breakfast didn’t exactly go according to plan,” Gary says as he sets down before me the tray he’s been carrying, while Cody does the same with his tray in front of Jackson. A moment later Evan and Frankie are at our side, pouring mimosas. Just the thought of an alcoholic beverage right now eases me once again.

Everyone settles onto the sheets for a round, and we chat about our plans for the day—skiing and snowboarding, heading down into the village, and then the rehearsal this evening. When the guys finally head out, Jackson and I have some privacy to enjoy our breakfast while they grab theirs.

“Well, you sure gave our friends an eyeful,” Jackson says with a laugh, sliding his arm around me and drawing me close.

“Eh, they’ll survive. That wasn’t exactly the way I was planning to wake up this morning.”

“Let me see your shoulder,” he says, and I turn toward him to display it.

“Before I assume,” he says, pressing his hand against the tender spot, “this one’s from the fall and not last night?”

I roll my head back as I enjoy a laugh. “Yes, this one’s definitely from the fall. God, your needy bottom is going to be all banged up before we even get to the honeymoon.”

“Maybe we should mark the ones you have before the wedding so we can tell which ones we make after.” He winks, his tone laced with that daddy charisma he so effortlessly exudes. “Maybe we could code them,” he adds, “so we know the difference between the accidents and the ones I’ve put on you.”

“Ooh! How about different numbers for different injuries? One for spankings, one for biting, one for hickeys—”

He winces. “Hickeys? We’re too old to be giving each other hickeys.”

“Please. I’m going to make you a fucking hickey necklace on our wedding night.”

“Then I’ll make you another type of necklace.” His words are followed by a subtle growl.

“That’s so cute that you think you can just waste perfectly good come like that. Hell no. Surely, my fiancé knows me well enough to know my holes are too greedy for that.”

“He certainly does,” he says, tugging me even closer and pressing his lips against mine once again.

“Mmm…mimosa,” I say, enjoying the orange flavor with a touch of champagne on his tongue.

When Jackson finally pries his lips from mine, he mutters, “Yes, this is just perfect.”

“Almost,” I say, but then feel bad that I even spoke the words.

“What?” he asks, his brows tugging close before his expression relaxes. “Randy?”

“God, you really do know me too well these days,” I confess at his reference to the only member of my family I give a shit about not being here. Of course, considering how far the Alzheimer’s has progressed, there was never any chance of that happening.

He rests his hand on mine. “Hey, it’s my job to know you best now. It’s okay to wish he could come.”

“I know why he can’t, obviously, and every day it’s so clear that he’s slipping away from us more and more. Even worse, it’s so hard watching him becoming increasingly frustrated every time he can’t make sense of the world…and as he struggles to remember me. But the Randy I knew when I was younger, the guy who came to my rescue when I needed someone’s help, he would have loved seeing me so happy.”

“I know he would,” Jackson says, and the sincerity of his words—that he’s even entertaining this fantasy of mine of a different world, a different life—helps ease my uneasiness. He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and applies a little pressure, pulling my gaze to his. “He would want you to wish he were here. You don’t have to feel bad or like there’s something wrong about that.”



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