...Madison parked the car, but left it running. “You stay here and I’ll go in and get him. Anson is such a slow poke we’ll be waiting out here forever if I don’t hurry him along.”

After she left, Scott busied himself by trying to find a decent radio station, only to discover that each and every one seemed to be playing holiday music. “Little Drummer Boy.” No. “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” Not again, since he’d already suffered through it twice on the ride over. “Frosty the Snowman.” Damn it, couldn’t that guy melt already? “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.” Hell, no! Not even if he’d actually been in the holiday spirit.

He finally found a station playing eighties’ songs. With a sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the familiar beat of “West End Girls.” Niiiiiice…he’d take this over Rudolph any day.

A loud knock on the window jerked Scott out of his appreciation for the Pet Shop Boys. Looking at the source, he saw a tall, muscular, blond, gift-from-the-gods, man standing by the passenger side window.

“Looks like Santa brought my Christmas present early,” Scott mumbled before he rolled down the window.

The blond cocked his head slightly to the side before he leaned in closer. From the new angle, Scott could see how the man’s eyes were the deepest blue. His cock swelled in appreciation. He’d always had a thing for blond hair and blue eyes. This newcomer could not have met his wet dreams more perfectly.

Then the guy opened his trap. “Dude, you haven’t changed one bit in three years.”

Scott’s mouth dropped as he shook his head. No, no, no! This had to be some sick kind of joke. “Anson?” he croaked out around a suddenly dry throat.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Anson asked, his full lips twisting in a crooked grin.

Damn, no one should have a smile that sexy and cute.

“No, it’s just that you don’t look like…well, you,” Scott stammered like some kind of idiot.

“Three years is a long time, Scotty, plus I’ve been eating both my spinach and Wheaties.”

The sarcastic comment hit Scott like a snowball to the face. Well, it was obvious that, while Anson may have done some growing up on the outside, inside still lurked a little brat. Scott started to tell him as much, but Madison returned.

“There you are,” she called from the sidewalk. “I went to your room so I could help you carry your luggage.”

Anson straightened up. The move made sure his groin came exactly level with Scott’s face. Despite himself, Scott couldn’t help but notice how large and tempting the denim-covered bulge appeared.

“I have only one bag,” Anson called back, appearing to be completely oblivious to the situation into which he’d just placed Scott.

Madison frowned. “Aren’t you planning to stay for the rest of your winter break?”

Anson laughed, and if Scott wasn’t mistaken, the kid seemed to lean in more so his cock moved closer. All Scott would have to do was turn his face and he could practically kiss the thing. Unwanted, the image of him doing exactly that popped into his head. He could almost see himself slowly lowering Anson’s zipper, then pulling out the man’s dick so he could fully worship it. And he could almost hear the sweet noises Anson would make as he got sucked off. Would he be one of those low-moaning types? Or maybe the kind who lets out breathless gasps?

“I think a few days of family fun are all I’m going to be able to stomach,” Anson answered Madison. “Unless I want to become a raging alcoholic like Aunt Nora.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that,” she returned easily.