Here’s a little excerpt from Farm Fresh, Chapter 9. Hudson is showing Jude how to do his laundry with the commune’s hand washer. It gets steamy fast while getting clean in the spring house.
“I’m gonna start agitating your clothes,” Jude said as he took the empty basket back into the springhouse. Hudson pinned the last pair of tiny briefs to the line, took several deep breaths, and went back to being tortured by this innocent kid’s blinding sexual appeal.
“Here,” Hudson said, peeling his now-sweaty shirt from his back and dropping it in the basin to join the rest of his clothes. “Hot work.”
Jude nodded.
It was too much for Hudson, at least too much to resist getting closer to those muscles working under golden, sweat-damp skin. Heat rolled off Jude’s body, sinking into Hudson’s chest. He pressed his palms to Jude’s hips, causing the boy’s movements to momentarily pause before he worked the lever again.
Hudson pressed his lips to the curve of Jude’s shoulder. He licked a few glistening drops of sweat, moaning at the taste as he skirted his hands up Jude’s sides so he could get to those damp pits. He was careful when laying a sturdy palm to the warm depression of Jude’s right pit, waiting patiently for Jude to lift his left arm to permit this touch. Jude relaxed, let his arms drift up, and abandoned the wash in favor of bending his elbows and resting his palms on his own hair.
“Are you ticklish?” Hudson asked against the skin below Jude’s ear.
“No.” His voice sounded wrecked.
“Can I touch you here?”
Jude nodded, so Hudson allowed his thumbs to drift across warm skin, touching this oft-ignored erogenous zone in a way that made Jude’s breaths erratic. He moaned, so Hudson knew where to focus his attention. He kissed down Jude’s back, crouched to kiss around the sharp wing of his shoulder blade and across the indentation of ribs evident under skin.
Hudson glanced up Jude’s flank, looking for permission, which he seemed to get when Jude’s eyes fluttered shut, long lashes nearly resting on his cheeks.
Hudson inhaled, deeply drawing Jude’s scent and pheromones into his lungs as he nosed through the hair under his arms. His groin reacted, throbbing and flexing as he got harder. “You smell so good.”
Jude released a wounded noise.
“You do. Clean and sweaty and horny and fucking perfect.” Hudson licked him, tasting the salt, loving the way Jude felt on his tongue, cherishing the sounds he pulled from the boy.
