Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“You did so good, Worth. Never ever felt so good.” He tugged on my shoulder. “Get up here. Do you think you deserve one more reward?”
“Yes, Sir,” I moaned as I buried my face in his neck. He held me tightly with his left arm while his right hand got busy with my belt and fly. When he withdrew my cock, I almost came on the spot. The air alone felt erotic and freeing after the tight confines of my jeans, and his grip was exquisite, warm and firm. He already knew how I liked it, and I rocked upward with each stroke. “Please, can I come? Please?”
“You’re so sexy and perfect.” He captured my mouth in a kiss that left me trembling. “Yes, you can come.”
“Thank you. Oh, thank—” I didn’t get to finish the thought as I came in a white-hot rush of pleasure. My lips still tasted like Sam, and his scent and nearness filled my every sense, amping up the intensity of the orgasm. And Sam knew exactly how to milk me for every last drop, coaxing a few more spurts than usual. Like the rest of me, my cock couldn’t help wanting to give Sam every damn thing he wanted.
“Oh, Worth.” Continuing to breathe hard, he held me close, face buried in my hair. “The things you make me feel…”
He trailed off, and I found his lips for a soft kiss, nowhere near ready for him to finish that thought. He wanted me. All of me. And that was terrifying enough. I wasn’t sure I could bear it if he put a label on all the emotions churning through us both.
Releasing him, I stroked his back. “Let’s finish up here, and I can make you feel good things all over again at home.”
“Home.” He sighed happily. The word had been almost an afterthought for me and, quite possibly, a come-addled accident, but if it pleased him so much, I wasn’t about to correct him. “I like it when you call it that.”
“You’re cute.” I kissed him again. The house was where I was staying, was the bearer of so much of my past, the glimmer of my future, and the ever-present reminder of what I’d lost. But Sam wasn’t nearly that complicated. He was home, not the house, but his head next to mine on the pillow, his arm around me, and his body pressed against me. That was where I belonged, where I wanted to stay as long as I could.
Chapter Twenty-One
Worth
“You work too hard.” Standing next to me at the counter in Blessed Bean, Sam glared at me like this was true. We’d been only moderately busy all week. For a sunny Friday, we should have been far more packed. And while I had worked long hours, hard was up for debate.
“I’m having fun.” I didn’t have to force my smile. I meant it. This had been one of the best weeks of my life. Yes, I’d had the depression group obligation and a few awkward conversations with old high school acquaintances, but for the most part, I’d spent the week high on Sam and the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop. “I forgot how much I love making coffee and dealing with customers. The variety of interactions makes the day go so much faster than a dozen tabs of near-identical spreadsheets.”
Well, and our continued after-hours sexfest didn’t hurt either, the way I counted down to closing time each day.
“I bet. Couldn’t pay me to be chained to a desk.” George dramatically widened his eyes like the horror of a cubicle was more than he could possibly bear.
“You’re the best barista here,” Marta added. She seemed to have appointed herself my biggest fan. Well, biggest after Sam, who’d spent all week praising my littlest accomplishments until I’d actually come to a place of pride in my skills. “And you make the rest of us better too.”
George snorted at Marta’s proclamation, but Sam nodded and rubbed my shoulder. “You’ve single-handedly solved a lot of our quality and consistency issues. But I want you to take a day off.”
“When you do,” I countered. For all that he could be stubborn, so could I. “Maybe we could go for another Sunday drive up to the bluffs.”
Preferably without the hyper-emotional talk, but I didn’t want to add that with our teen audience right there. Sure enough, Marta was already giggling.
“Make-Out Mountain?”
“Perhaps.” Sam’s tone was thoughtful. He and I had given up trying to hide our thing from the way-too-perceptive teens, and unlike me, he wasn’t even blushing from Marta’s tease. “After church and lunch with my folks?”
He shot me a meaningful look. I hadn’t given him a firm yes yet on the lunch invitation. His heated gaze offered a hell of an incentive though.
“You just want to drive my car,” I tossed back, deliberately avoiding answering the question.