Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“I’m interested, Ivan.” He grabbed my wrist and flattened my palm over his erection. “Very interested. What time do you get off work tonight?”
“Six,” I panted. “But I have to clean and lock up and—”
“I’ll help you.”
“No, I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask. I offered.”
“So you’re volunteering?”
“Ha, something like that.” Court nipped my chin, then sucked my bottom lip. “See you tonight.”
He scooped up his to-go cup, flashed a sexy-as-fuck smile my way, and disappeared into the narrow alley behind the coffee shop. I stared after him in a daze, wondering what we’d just agreed to. One more BJ, one more night where anything goes, one more month?
Did it matter? Nope. I’d happily take whatever he was willing to give. Whatever it ended up being was already more than I’d ever expected.
True to his word, Court returned before closing time and yeah…we did it all over again. It was fucking magic. His hands in my hair, his cock in my mouth, deep kisses, manic groping, and earth-shattering orgasms.
He’d helped me finish tidying the shop after we’d cleaned the mess we’d made; then he’d walked me home, kissed me on my doorstep, and wished me good-night. Like a gentleman.
The next day was the same, but better because I knew Court would come by. Anticipation made the morning fly. And the afternoon. The second he showed up, my heartbeat went into overdrive. God, he was so handsome, so…cool. He casually greeted familiar faces, but I could feel his gaze on me and wondered if he was as blown away by the intensity of this new thing between us as I was.
He stopped by at closing too, but we waited till we’d reached my house to lunge for each other, falling half-undressed onto my sofa to hump and grind till we came apart, gasping for air and laughing at our lack of finesse as we wiped cum from our shirts.
Court had dinner plans with his family and couldn’t stay, but damn, I wanted him to. We parted with passionate kisses, swaying like palm trees in my foyer. I’d shivered in my boxer briefs, stepping aside as he zipped his jacket, and whispered, “See you tomorrow.”
Which was today.
And here he was.
I handed over Court’s morning latte and took a moment to drink in his yumminess. His broad shoulders looked impossibly wide in his puffy jacket, and his longish hair curled at his ears under his beanie.
“Thank you.” He smiled sweetly and glanced over his shoulder at the growing line behind him.
“Ivan, we need two lattes, an espresso, and a chamomile tea with lemon.” Mazie pushed a piece of paper into my hand and hurried back to the register.
“I should go. Thanks for the…” I pointed at the pastry bag. “What is it?”
“Apple fritter,” Court replied, stepping aside for the next customer. “Which just might be the best thing on the menu at Henderson’s.”
“Not better than the maple cookies,” Mr. Wagner, a sixtysomething mechanic whose youngest son had gone to school with us, interjected.
I listened with half an ear at the great baked goods debate as I poured tea and filled coffee orders. Mr. Wagner was adamant about the maple; Dierdre from the diner and her sister, Maggie, voted for the cinnamon twist; a gaggle of college aged kids home for the holidays were partial to the lemon bars. Mr. Wagner booed, Dierdre and Maggie laughed, and Big Red, one of the college kids who’d played hockey for Vinnie and Ronnie pulled Court aside to talk hockey.
I couldn’t hear their conversation, but I stole admiring glimpses of Court, casually sipping a latte while catching up with acquaintances and talking hockey with locals as though he hadn’t been away for years. His laughter was music to my ears.
He looked so at home. No different from any of us.
If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine us back in high school—with a twist where the geeky goth dude might have a shot with the jock.
Court glanced up just then and pointed at the bag he’d handed to me earlier.
I took the hint and pulled out the Post-it note attached to a napkin.
You close before I’m off at the rink, but I can come over later if you’re free for dinner. Takeout on me. Yay or nay?
I slipped the note into my pocket, ripped off a chunk of apple fritter and popped it into my mouth, and oh, so subtly gave him a thumbs-up.
But to be perfectly honest, my mind was spinning and my thoughts were beginning to freak me out.
I’d spent years crushing on this guy and our chemistry was better than anything I’d ever imagined, but what if the sex part sucked? Or…what if it was so amazing that I started getting ideas? Ugh, that would be worse.
Thinking forever thoughts about Court wouldn’t end well for me.