by Cara Dee
Out For the Holidays
An Out Novella
Cara Dee
Contents
Out For the Holidays
Camassia Cove
Am I Doing This Dedication Thing Right?
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
More from Cara Dee
About Cara
Out For the Holidays
Copyright © 2017 by Cara Dee
All rights reserved
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be reproduced in any way without documented permission of the author, not including brief quotes with links and/or credit to the source. This is a work of fiction. All references to ancient or historical events, persons living or dead, locations, and places are used in a fictional manner. Any other names, characters, incidents, and places are derived from the author’s own imagination. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of any wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction. This story contains scenes of an explicit, erotic nature and is intended for adults, 18+. Characters portrayed in sexual situations are 18 or older.
Edited by Silently Correcting Your Grammar, LLC.
Formatting by Eliza Rae Services.
Camassia Cove
Camassia Cove is a town in northern Washington created to be the home of some exciting love stories. Novels taking place here stand alone unless otherwise stated, and they will vary in genre and pairing. What they all have in common is the town in which they live. Some are friends and family. Others are complete strangers. Some have vastly different backgrounds. Some grew up together. It's a small world, and many characters will cross over and pay a visit or two in several books. But, again, each novel stands on its own, and spoilers will be avoided as much as possible.
Out For the Holidays is the sequel to Out, a novel taking place (partly!) in Camassia Cove. If you're interested in keeping up with the characters, the town, the timeline, and future novels, check out Camassia Cove's own page at www.caradeewrites.com.
Am I Doing This Dedication Thing Right?
Probably Not, No
Really, there’s a purpose to this message.
Equality is on my mind. We don’t have enough of it.
So let’s fight harder next year, okay?
I hope you’ll have an amazing holiday, by the way.
Sincerely,
The awkward writer of this comedy
Chapter 1
Let It Fucking Snow
Zach Coleman
Finally home.
I idled in the driveway by the river and looked up at the house, exhausted and wondering if I could get Henry to carry me in. I could see him up there, the sight drawing a tired smile from me. Our house—or maybe big-ass lodge was more appropriate—had all the woodsy coziness we could want. It sat on a steep mountainside and was built on top of our garage. If the weather report was anything to go by, it was gonna be the perfect setting for a holiday card.
We were surrounded by forest-covered mountains on three sides and the river on one. The large windows of the living room faced the half-frozen water, and I watched as Henry stacked boxes of Christmas decorations on the floor by the windows.
He’d picked out a tree already—without me, dammit—and it was waiting to be decorated in the corner.
“Indeed, Clark, and with the harsh winds coming down from the Canadian interior, we can count on…”
I killed the engine, effectively silencing the radio too.
Yeah, just let it snow.
This Christmas had to be better than our first one. Hell, next year had to be better than our first one. We could look back on it now and shake our heads in amusement, but goddamn, nothing had gone according to plan.
I should’ve known we would have to rethink everything when Brooklyn hired me the first time. There was no such thing as spending the “summer and fall” in Camassia and winter and spring in LA.
We were supposed to have spent the holidays in our then-new home last year. Instead, we’d gotten stuck at LAX because of me and a goddamn photo shoot. Snowstorms, a strike, and general delays had pushed our departure from early Christmas Eve to the first flight out on Christmas Day. We’d eaten our first Christmas breakfast together in United’s lounge, just Henry and me, while Mattie and Ty had driven back and forth to pick up Nan and then us when we landed in Seattle.
This year was gonna be different. Henry and I had promised each other to lay off work all of December; it was gonna be our vacation before Mattie and Ty came home on the twentieth. Martin was flying up the day after too. It was set in stone. Nothing was gonna keep us from celebrating the holidays at home, hopefully with a lot of snow falling, with our loved ones.
With a heavy sigh, I started the engine again and rolled the car into the garage. I had to talk to Henry about my schedule, and I hoped he approved. Mattie and Ty already knew because they’d been there when I’d had a minor meltdown the other day.
We’d spent Thanksgiving in LA since Ty and Mattie went to college there and I was working, so though it’d only been a week since I saw Henry, I missed him. It seemed to have become the running theme. We were always missing one another because even when we were together, we were so tired.
I was kinda done with that.
I parked next to Henry’s Jeep. He’d become lumberjackier up here, and when I’d asked what he was gonna do with his Lexus, he’d said it had no business in Camassia. Here, he wanted a Jeep for off-road driving.
Mattie’s and Ty’s cars were parked on the other side of the center path. Waste of money, if you asked me. They didn’t live here anymore. One car would’ve sufficed for them, but no, fucking Martin had given each of them new wheels for Christmas last year.
I climbed the stairs and dug out my keys, though I doubted the door was locked. This wasn’t LA, and we had two dogs now too. We were safe and protected by one sharp Chihuahua and one goofy Rottweiler. It was supposed to have been the other way around…
The smell of home hit me with enough force to make my eyes water as I stepped inside the hallway. Henry had Christmas music playing, and the man was baking something.
“Baby? I’m home.” I dropped my bag on the floor, smiling as the dogs came to greet me. “Hi, my pups.” I squatted down and picked up Lady. Not like Lady in that Disney movie, but like First Lady. Little Lady Mo, if we were going to get technical. “Did you miss me? Oh yes, you did.”
For being two completely different breeds and sizes, they were sort of similar. Lady’s coloring was the same as Diesel’s.
Eagle didn’t greet anyone like this. Unless Henry and I were making him exercise, he supervised everything from the couch in the living room. Sometimes, we were allowed to cuddle him, Henry more so than me. Possibly because he gave Eagle tuna on the sly.
Henry finally appeared, and the dogs were momentarily forgotten.
I threw myself into his arms and breathed him in.
I felt him smiling against my neck.
“I was wondering how long you were going to sit out there in the car,” he murmured, hugging me tighter. “Christ—it’s so good to have you home, darling.”
“I’m hoping we get snowed in.” I eased back enough to get his lips.
“Mmm, apparently there’s a risk of that. I hope so too.” He deepened the kiss. “I saved you some food from lunch, and there’re fresh rolls for you.”
Fuck, I loved him. Last Christmas, we’d decided to buy something tog
ether. It led to the adoptions of Diesel and Lady through Brooklyn’s husband’s rescue dog organization. Then, ’cause Henry was a sneak, I’d spotted something with my name on it under the tree. So I’d run out and bought the bread maker he’d been eyeing.
It was the gift that kept on giving, and every time I came home from LA, there were these amazing rolls stuffed with cheese and garlic waiting for me.
“Will you nap with me?” I asked.
“But it’s December now, sweetheart. I have to decorate the house.” He was too fucking adorable sometimes. “I didn’t get to do this last year.”
I remembered. He’d been so upset, and it’d been hard not to laugh.
“It’ll be different from now on,” I promised. “I’ll go shower and nap after I eat, and then I’ll help you decorate. Yeah?”
He hesitated. “Are you qualified?”
I stared up at him blankly. Then I shrugged out of my leather jacket and snorted, leaving his decorating diva ass behind. I’d probably never grasp how he could be so full of authority, dominance, and masculine hotness ninety percent of the time and then flip to a fussing mother and housewife with extremely high standards the other ten.
It was only one of the reasons I was so in love with him. Whether he was making plans to go hunting with friends he’d made in town the past year, or he was quoting Oprah, the man kept me on my toes.
The cobwebs of sleep clung to me as the dreams shifted and changed, the images blurring. I frowned. My cock was engulfed in wet heat, the strong suction drawing a drowsy groan from me. How is this… I mean… What’s… I grunted, rousing from sleep slowly. My dick thickened and grew harder. Oh God, it was Henry. I wasn’t having a dinner meeting with Brooklyn.
A sleep fuck, oh yeah. I wasn’t gonna move an inch. This was exactly what I wanted after the hectic weeks I’d just had. Actually, I was gonna move, but only to give him more access. With a sleepy sound, I ended his fantastic blow job and served him my ass on a platter. I rolled onto my stomach and drew up my leg, then sighed contentedly and let the exhaustion grab on to me again.
Henry breathed a curse and carefully spread my cheeks, his strokes gentle and dirty. The fantasy of him taking advantage of me while I slept got me off at record speed every goddamn time.
“I missed this pretty little asshole,” he whispered. A finger brushed over my opening, and I suppressed a shiver. His pinkie finger wriggled inside, just the tip. Then he replaced it with his tongue.
I exhaled heavily and buried my face in the pillow.
He tongue-fucked me sensually, his movements always measured.
I gave the mattress a sleepy thrust to get some friction for my cock.
This had become my absolute favorite way to get fucked after we’d been apart. It slowed down my thoughts, centered me in a way, and it was heady as hell. Withholding groans and pleas meant that my energy was contained inside me until I came all over the sheets.
Henry lubed his cock and rubbed himself across my hole, stretching me for his pleasure. The head pressed deeper, then disappeared. My dirty bastard loved to watch.
I stayed still. The feeling of being possessed this way was indescribable.
When he was buried all the way in, the traces of sleep were long gone. Goose bumps spread across my body, and I stifled a moan.
“My perfect baby boy,” he whispered as his lips ghosted over my shoulder. His hard cock filled me unhurriedly, over and over, and I shifted again. My leg came down a bit so his thrusts would inch me up and down along the mattress. “It’s been a while since you woke up in a wet spot.” He scratched my scalp gently, carefully pressing my face into the pillow. “Filthy boys like you just can’t help but come in your sleep.”
Oh, fuck.
His thrusts came faster, and my cock was rubbing against the sheet persistently.
He dipped down and bit my shoulder, soothing the sting with a swipe of his tongue. “Christ… Who knew I’d fall in love with an exquisite ass whore who takes my cock so greedily.”
My whimper was muffled by the pillow. The pressure built up, my breaths turned shallow, and it was getting difficult to stay relaxed for him. My muscles trembled with the need to tense up.
Henry fucked me harder. The friction of the sheet and my own stomach sent me closer to orgasm, and he increased the pleasure by slipping a hand underneath me to fondle my balls.
“Oh, they’re full and ready, baby,” he murmured, out of breath. “Time for you to make that mess. Just like I’ll make a mess inside you.”
Without being allowed to make a sound, I swallowed my groan and felt the pressure boiling over. He rolled my balls firmly and fucked me into the mattress, and that did it. Ungh. I grunted and gnashed my teeth together, the climax taking over. My cock released in spurts just as Henry started coming.
I slid through my own mess, my dick and stomach coated in come.
“Oh God.” Henry shuddered violently and rested on top of me, his labored breaths hitting my shoulder in hot puffs. “I needed that.”
“Me too,” I rasped, and it wasn’t over. I’d grown to need the cuddles that followed almost as much as the sex. In a way, it was a moment that put me back together. “Can you stay inside me?”
“Of course, my darling.” He shifted us so my back was to his chest and we were on our sides. Then he held me tightly as the last few months’ tension drained out of me. “You’ve been stressed out for quite a while now, Zachary. Are you sure it’s not too much? I worry when you work so hard.”
No, I wasn’t sure anymore. It had kind of snowballed this year. Brooklyn’s holiday campaign last year had aimed a spotlight on me, and I hadn’t been prepared for shit. It was still surreal and bizarre to see myself on actual billboards, and there were fucking billboards, holy hell.
In the span of four months, I’d gotten a real agent, though Martin loved to play famous person and travel with me. I’d seen New York, Miami, Chicago, and Austin. I’d been catapulted into this crazy lifestyle, and the shine was wearing off fast. This summer had been the worst. Even as we were all together in our house in Santa Monica, I’d lost my footing. The boys had spent their days on the beach or taking care of Henry’s bookstore, Henry had taken on a big project at Second Family, and I had…for lack of a better word, floundered.
“I’ve made a decision,” I murmured, getting sleepy again. Now that I was in Henry’s arms, I could relax. “It was a mistake to work with others.” And that was what I’d started doing in June. My agent had called me; a fashion designer wanted to book me, and I’d shrugged and said fun. Which was bullshit. “Brooklyn’s kinda made a family of her models, and that’s fine with me. She’s not crazy, unlike that photographer I worked with in Long Beach.”
“I remember you were upset.” Henry kissed my hair. He’d had to come visit me on set almost every day, because I wasn’t cut out for it. The hours were mad, the demands were fucked up, and it just unsettled me. The money wasn’t worth it. “But you enjoy being a spokesmodel for ShadowLight?”
Yes and no. In August, my social media had exploded because Brooklyn’s team created a YouTube channel for the three models who were the main faces—Akira, Maliah, and me. We were featured in videos and behind-the-scenes footage from shoots, and that sort of attention was different. There were suddenly people who commented and followed me.
“I like the shoots,” I admitted. “I don’t mind that my face is everywhere either, but the social media shit makes me uncomfortable. Did you know it’s in my contract that I can’t make my Instagram private?”
I’d gone from sixteen followers to sixty-seven thousand. And it was growing every day. It freaked me out. I didn’t want any part of it, not like that.
Henry propped himself up on his elbow so we could see each other, and he furrowed his brow. “You said Martin had a lawyer look it over. Didn’t they explain everything?”
Yeah, well. What the fuck did I know? It’d sounded good at the time. “I didn’t think it was gonna get so crazy, Henry.” Did I j
ust whine? Christ.
“Oh, my sweet man,” he chuckled and stroked my cheek. “Tell me what I can do for you. I didn’t know things were this bad.”
It wasn’t really. “It slapped me in the face when you left after Thanksgiving.” I’d been thrown into a quick but hectic shoot with a friend of Brooklyn’s, and then I’d come home to Mattie and Ty. Henry wasn’t there, and I’d lost it over seeing an email with new accounts created for me on Facebook and Twitter. “I… It’s not who I am. I like posting a few photos here and there on Insta and seeing what my friends and family are up to, but that’s it.”
Henry nodded slowly, pensive. “We’ll get your contract renegotiated for you after the holidays, then. You should talk to Brooklyn. You don’t want to blindside her with this.” That made sense. She’d done a lot for me. “What else can I do?”
I sighed contentedly and pressed my back to his chest. “I guess I want more structure. A routine. The going back and forth so much isn’t fun. The other week, I forgot what fucking month it was.”
He smiled sympathetically. “That’s fair. I miss having a routine too. I like being settled.”
“Yes.” That was the word. I wanted to be more settled.
I wasn’t the only one who had a lot to do either. Henry had more balls in the air than a gay porn star. Since we got together a year and a half ago, he’d become more involved in Second Family. He’d become a donor at a nonprofit organization that helped men, women, and children escape abuse right here in Camassia too. And this was on top of his side gigs with whatever investments he was making, the world’s most unsuccessful bookstore in Malibu, and coming to my aid when my photographers were cunts.
