Today, Boy Meets Boy Reviews has the scoop on Heidi Cullinan's latest story, Let It Snow. Read up on this lovely holiday story below and check out the excerpt!
*****
The weather outside is frightful, but this Minnesota northwoods cabin is getting pretty hot.
Stylist Frankie Blackburn never meant to get lost in Logan, Minnesota, but his malfunctioning GPS felt otherwise, and a record-breaking snowfall ensures he won’t be heading back to Minneapolis anytime soon. Being rescued by three sexy lumberjacks is fine as a fantasy, but in reality the biggest of the bears is awfully cranky and seems ready to gobble Frankie right up.
Marcus Gardner wasn’t always a lumberjack—once a high-powered Minneapolis lawyer, he’s come home to Logan to lick his wounds, not play with a sassy city twink who might as well have stepped directly out of his past. But as the northwinds blow and guards come down, Frankie and Marcus find they have a lot more in common than they don’t. Could the man who won’t live in the country and the man who won’t go back to the city truly find a home together? Because the longer it snows, the deeper they fall in love, and all they want for Christmas is each other.
Warning: Contains power outages, excessive snowfall, and incredibly sexy bears.
*****
Sounds pretty awesome, right? To read more about bears, twinks, and holiday shenanigans, check out this excerpt from the story!
Excerpt from Let It Snow by Heidi Cullinan:
Wind rocked the cabin, making the logs creak and sending hard pellets of snow against the windows. In the city when it snowed, snowy nights were almost as bright as day, the blanket of white reflecting the streetlights. Here there was no light at all, and the cabin was pitch-black save the soft glow of the fire Marcus had banked. Frankie thought of how dark it would have been had he been trapped in his car, and he shivered. His mind added a sidebar of how cold it was likely to be in there now, and Frankie shivered even harder.
The other side of the foldout bed shifted as Marcus turned over. “You okay?”
Feeling foolish, Frankie nodded. “Yes, sorry. Just thinking how cold and dark it is in my car and how lucky I am to have found somewhere to stay for the night.”
To Frankie this was a vulnerable, confessional moment, and he expected Marcus to soften under it, maybe giving him a gruff, “You’re safe now,” or something equally benign but ice thawing. Instead of softening, though, Marcus put his back to Frankie again, and when he spoke, he sounded irritated. “Be a lot longer than one night. This is a hell of a storm.”
Hurt and confused, Frankie turned away too. “I’ll find a way to get to a hotel tomorrow so I’m not a bother to you.”
“The closest hotel is in Eveleth. You won’t be getting there anytime soon.”
Frankie wished he were the kind of asshole who could decide to stay with Marcus as long as possible, annoying him as some kind of payback. He wasn’t. “I’ll find somewhere else in town then.”
“You’ll stay here. Now shut up and sleep, because I’m pretty sure tomorrow’s going to be interesting.”
Burrowing deeper into the covers, Frankie shut his eyes tight and swallowed hard, telling himself he wasn’t going to cry and give the big jerk on the other side of the bed the satisfaction of seeing how easily his barbs took hold. He vowed he’d talk with Arthur about his offer of sharing a bed with him and Paul—clearly that overture came with sex, but that didn’t seem like it’d be a hardship anymore, and anyway he’d fuck about anybody to get away from Marcus and his ability to swipe the rug out from under him every time he tried to stand.
Frankie was half-asleep, consoling himself with a soft-core porn fantasy of being caressed by a pair of gentle lumberjacks, when he was awoken by a loud, hard crack.
He sat bolt upright, turning to the window where he fully expected to see a tree cracked in two, but then a second sharp sound broke through the air, followed by a low, erotic moan. The sound, Frankie realized, came from upstairs.
Arthur’s voice drifted down, muffled by wind and floorboards, but there was no mistaking what he said. “That’s right, you hot little fucker. Lift that ass so I can smack it.”
As a cascade of blows and moans came from the loft, Frankie lowered himself carefully back to the bed and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, all hope of sleep gone as he listened to the muted but graphic soundtrack to an amateur BDSM scene. Arthur rattled off a constant stream of dirty talk, commenting on the allure of Paul’s anus—look at that hot little hole—and the many variations of oral sex he planned to perform on it—want to cram my tongue in there and lick out your insides, you sexy bitch.
Soon the play-by-play stopped, and Frankie could only presume Arthur was putting his money where his mouth was, or at least giving the kind of rimming to Paul Frankie had only seen through the curtain of his fingers when his roommate had tried to get him to watch hardcore online porn. Paul’s cries were by turns agonized and aroused, sometimes begging Arthur to stop, sometimes pleading with him not to. Occasionally Arthur would growl something at Paul, making him whimper or say something angrily back, but mostly Paul moaned, especially when the telltale banging began, indicating Paul’s hot little hole was seeing a more significant form of activity. Hard, relentless activity that had Paul almost sobbing.
For his part, Frankie tried not to breathe, let alone move. His cock had come to full attention under the blanket, but he knew now he’d endure Marcus’s crankiness for the rest of his life before he’d make himself a third participant in the kind of sex going on in the loft. His roommate had taught him to respect rough sex, but their one mutual, tentative foray into the activity had made it clear Frankie was a BDSM observer only.
He’d never thought he’d be so up close and personal with it.
Especially with total strangers.
In a cabin in a snowstorm.
In a cabin in a snowstorm where he would apparently be stuck for days.
This time Frankie worked hard to control his shaking, truly not wanting to endure Marcus’s disdain on top of his shock, but as the activity upstairs wound to a climax and Frankie’s tremors became pronounced, the bed shifted and Marcus’s dark, bearded face loomed over Frankie’s.
“You okay?”
Frankie nodded quickly, willing Marcus to believe him, but Paul cried out as if he’d been gutted, and Frankie’s whole body spasmed in response.
To his surprise, Marcus’s countenance eased. “It’s all right. I know they play rough, but Paul’s tougher than you think. He tells Arthur no when he doesn’t want it, and Arthur listens.” Marcus grimaced, but for once the displeasure didn’t seem to be aimed at Frankie. “They’re a fucking awful couple, and they each keep trying to find other people, but they’ve been friends forever, and somehow fucking each other has always been a part of their relationship.” His face smoothed out again, and for a moment Marcus became the gentle lumberjack of Frankie’s fantasy. “They wouldn’t have played with you like that if you’d gone to bed with them, not if you didn’t want it, but they would have tried. You didn’t seem like the type for that, which was why I didn’t let them coerce you up there just yet. I figured you had enough on your plate tonight without their Sid and Nancy routine.”
“Thanks,” Frankie whispered, unable to say anything else.
With a curt nod, Marcus lay back down. Frankie remained awake for some time, though, well past the finale of the upstairs performance. Lying on the bed, surrounded by the warmth Marcus’s body gave off beneath their shared blanket, Frankie lay awake for a long time, swimming in a sea of overstimulation and confusion.
Wind rocked the cabin, making the logs creak and sending hard pellets of snow against the windows. In the city when it snowed, snowy nights were almost as bright as day, the blanket of white reflecting the streetlights. Here there was no light at all, and the cabin was pitch-black save the soft glow of the fire Marcus had banked. Frankie thought of how dark it would have been had he been trapped in his car, and he shivered. His mind added a sidebar of how cold it was likely to be in there now, and Frankie shivered even harder.
The other side of the foldout bed shifted as Marcus turned over. “You okay?”
Feeling foolish, Frankie nodded. “Yes, sorry. Just thinking how cold and dark it is in my car and how lucky I am to have found somewhere to stay for the night.”
To Frankie this was a vulnerable, confessional moment, and he expected Marcus to soften under it, maybe giving him a gruff, “You’re safe now,” or something equally benign but ice thawing. Instead of softening, though, Marcus put his back to Frankie again, and when he spoke, he sounded irritated. “Be a lot longer than one night. This is a hell of a storm.”
Hurt and confused, Frankie turned away too. “I’ll find a way to get to a hotel tomorrow so I’m not a bother to you.”
“The closest hotel is in Eveleth. You won’t be getting there anytime soon.”
Frankie wished he were the kind of asshole who could decide to stay with Marcus as long as possible, annoying him as some kind of payback. He wasn’t. “I’ll find somewhere else in town then.”
“You’ll stay here. Now shut up and sleep, because I’m pretty sure tomorrow’s going to be interesting.”
Burrowing deeper into the covers, Frankie shut his eyes tight and swallowed hard, telling himself he wasn’t going to cry and give the big jerk on the other side of the bed the satisfaction of seeing how easily his barbs took hold. He vowed he’d talk with Arthur about his offer of sharing a bed with him and Paul—clearly that overture came with sex, but that didn’t seem like it’d be a hardship anymore, and anyway he’d fuck about anybody to get away from Marcus and his ability to swipe the rug out from under him every time he tried to stand.
Frankie was half-asleep, consoling himself with a soft-core porn fantasy of being caressed by a pair of gentle lumberjacks, when he was awoken by a loud, hard crack.
He sat bolt upright, turning to the window where he fully expected to see a tree cracked in two, but then a second sharp sound broke through the air, followed by a low, erotic moan. The sound, Frankie realized, came from upstairs.
Arthur’s voice drifted down, muffled by wind and floorboards, but there was no mistaking what he said. “That’s right, you hot little fucker. Lift that ass so I can smack it.”
As a cascade of blows and moans came from the loft, Frankie lowered himself carefully back to the bed and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, all hope of sleep gone as he listened to the muted but graphic soundtrack to an amateur BDSM scene. Arthur rattled off a constant stream of dirty talk, commenting on the allure of Paul’s anus—look at that hot little hole—and the many variations of oral sex he planned to perform on it—want to cram my tongue in there and lick out your insides, you sexy bitch.
Soon the play-by-play stopped, and Frankie could only presume Arthur was putting his money where his mouth was, or at least giving the kind of rimming to Paul Frankie had only seen through the curtain of his fingers when his roommate had tried to get him to watch hardcore online porn. Paul’s cries were by turns agonized and aroused, sometimes begging Arthur to stop, sometimes pleading with him not to. Occasionally Arthur would growl something at Paul, making him whimper or say something angrily back, but mostly Paul moaned, especially when the telltale banging began, indicating Paul’s hot little hole was seeing a more significant form of activity. Hard, relentless activity that had Paul almost sobbing.
For his part, Frankie tried not to breathe, let alone move. His cock had come to full attention under the blanket, but he knew now he’d endure Marcus’s crankiness for the rest of his life before he’d make himself a third participant in the kind of sex going on in the loft. His roommate had taught him to respect rough sex, but their one mutual, tentative foray into the activity had made it clear Frankie was a BDSM observer only.
He’d never thought he’d be so up close and personal with it.
Especially with total strangers.
In a cabin in a snowstorm.
In a cabin in a snowstorm where he would apparently be stuck for days.
This time Frankie worked hard to control his shaking, truly not wanting to endure Marcus’s disdain on top of his shock, but as the activity upstairs wound to a climax and Frankie’s tremors became pronounced, the bed shifted and Marcus’s dark, bearded face loomed over Frankie’s.
“You okay?”
Frankie nodded quickly, willing Marcus to believe him, but Paul cried out as if he’d been gutted, and Frankie’s whole body spasmed in response.
To his surprise, Marcus’s countenance eased. “It’s all right. I know they play rough, but Paul’s tougher than you think. He tells Arthur no when he doesn’t want it, and Arthur listens.” Marcus grimaced, but for once the displeasure didn’t seem to be aimed at Frankie. “They’re a fucking awful couple, and they each keep trying to find other people, but they’ve been friends forever, and somehow fucking each other has always been a part of their relationship.” His face smoothed out again, and for a moment Marcus became the gentle lumberjack of Frankie’s fantasy. “They wouldn’t have played with you like that if you’d gone to bed with them, not if you didn’t want it, but they would have tried. You didn’t seem like the type for that, which was why I didn’t let them coerce you up there just yet. I figured you had enough on your plate tonight without their Sid and Nancy routine.”
“Thanks,” Frankie whispered, unable to say anything else.
With a curt nod, Marcus lay back down. Frankie remained awake for some time, though, well past the finale of the upstairs performance. Lying on the bed, surrounded by the warmth Marcus’s body gave off beneath their shared blanket, Frankie lay awake for a long time, swimming in a sea of overstimulation and confusion.
Want to read more? Let It Snow is available now at Samhain, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble!
About the Author:
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