The Best of Forevers

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The Best of Forevers Page 80

by Hargrove, A. M.


  “My loving father.”

  He says nothing else and I don’t push for more. I let him observe and we settle into a comfortable silence. I’d like to lean into him while I work, but I’d probably chop my finger off. He doesn’t disturb my progress, even though he’s in my space. It’s weird if I think about it.

  When I get a moment, I walk out to check on my customers. It’s something I’ve done since the beginning, to make sure they’re pleased with the quality of the food and service. Weston follows me out and takes a seat at the bar.

  A man at the second table I approach hits on me. He’s very blatant about it. This is nothing new, and I handle it quickly, moving on to the next group of customers. When I finish, Weston grabs me as I walk by.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “Yeah. Do you need anything?”

  He presses his lips together. “Did that guy bother you over there because I can say something.”

  I had almost forgotten about that. “Who?” And then I remember. “Oh, him?” I shrug. “I get that occasionally. He’s fine. It’s nothing.”

  “I saw him. He looked like he wanted to eat you, Special.” Weston isn’t looking at me. He’s staring at the back of the man’s head.

  “No, he didn’t. He flirted with me and asked me out. I said no.”

  His jaws snap together. I probably shouldn’t have said that, but I had no idea he’d react this way.

  “Listen, guys come in here all the time and ask me out. I’m not interested in them, and never have been. Ask Jeb.”

  “I don’t need to ask Jeb. I’m worried about your safety.”

  “Don’t be. I have Jeb here, and now you. You’re acting like a guard dog.” I give him a lopsided smile and add, “Woof, woof.”

  “It’s not funny, Special.”

  Grabbing his shoulder, I give it a firm squeeze. “It kind of is. Seriously, you can’t be worried about me. Think about it. I’m going to get hit on. Look what you did. You came in here and waited how long to talk to me?”

  “It’s not the same.”

  He’s jealous. Oh, my God! He’s totally jealous. I call him on it. “The green monster has bitten you in the ass, hasn’t it?”

  “It has not.”

  I lean in and whisper into his ear, “Weston is jealous.”

  But then he does something unexpected. He twists, trapping my mouth in a searing kiss that heats me from my lips to my toes. When he finishes, he says, “This is mine. Now everyone here is aware. You’d better get back to work.” I didn’t realize his hand moved to my ass when he kissed me. When he releases me, I can still feel the pressure of his fingers and the burn of his lips. I don’t want to go back to work. What I want is to march him to my apartment and get laid.

  For the rest of the night I’m in a terrible mood, thanks to Weston. All I can think of is what waits for me when the bar closes. After the kitchen stops serving food, which is thankfully much earlier than it used to be, I clean up and join him at the bar. The place is still busy and Jeb is filling drink orders, even with his arm in a brace. He insists he’s fine, and the doctor has given me a letter that says he can work. I’m good with it as long as his doctor is. Jeb says he can’t stay home, and lifting glasses isn’t exactly hard work. Most of the heavy stuff is left to the other employees, who I’m happy to say are reliable and showing up on time.

  “Hey, Jeb, you okay with closing tonight?”

  “Sure. Is the kitchen taken care of?”

  I don’t answer him other than shoot him one of my smirky faces.

  “Okay, that was a stupid question,” he admits.

  I latch onto Weston’s arm and say to Jeb, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  In his smart-assery way, Jeb says, “Damn, someone is in a hurry to get laid.”

  I shoot him the one-finger salute as I leave through the kitchen, dragging Weston behind me.

  “Someone in a hurry?” Weston asks, his voice raspy.

  “Yeah, thanks to you.”

  We practically break down the door to my place trying to get in before Weston kicks it shut behind us.

  “It looks like I’m not the only one who’s in a hurry.”

  “Oh, Spike, you have no idea.”

  Then he crushes my lips in a bruising kiss. This is a side of him I haven’t seen and one that sends thrills racing up my spine. His hands move between us, and I think he’s going to unbutton my shirt. Then I hear the fabric tear as he rips the two sides open with his hands, sending the pearly discs flying everywhere. They ping off the tile floor as he shoves me flat against the door. I wouldn’t be shocked to find splinters in the blades of my shoulders later.

  “I never thought we’d get out of there,” he says, pulling my shirt the rest of the way down. I shrug my arms out and reach up for his neck so I can pull him closer, but he resists.

  “Not yet.” His fingers trace the outline of my bra. “Your nipples are so hard, exactly like my cock. They’re about to pierce holes through your bra.” His fingers dip inside, jerking my bra down to free my breasts. He takes each one out, pinching my nipples. “Just like granite.” Our eyes meet before he bends his head to flick his tongue back and forth over each peak. It’s divine and if I didn’t know better, I would say there was a puddle on the floor as proof of my lust beneath me. As he works over my breasts, his hands work to get rid of my pants. Once I’m naked, we trade places and now he stands with his back to the door.

  He moves me away from him and undoes his pants. I’ve learned Weston isn’t fond of underwear. Tonight, he wears none. He drops his jeans to his knees and reaches for his swollen cock. Running his hand from bottom to top, it’s hard not to miss the shiny bead of liquid that forms at the tip.

  “On your knees. Now. There’s only one thing I want, and that’s your mouth wrapped tightly around my cock. You’re going to suck me dry.”

  It doesn’t enter my mind to refuse him. The sight of him handling himself makes me want him even more. The thought of tasting him makes my mouth water.

  I drop down, fisting his cock. Putting my lips around the head, I lick the underside like my favorite cherry Popsicle. He pushes in deep and I nearly gag. I guess I’m not very good at this.

  “Relax,” he says, rubbing my throat. “That’s better.”

  I swallow and he moans. He moves again and so do I. Up and down, so slow. Then I pick up a bit of speed, sucking and sliding my fist. Using my other hand, I squeeze his balls. He bucks deep into my throat, I gag again, and he pulls out. I concentrate on relaxing and open up, taking him in and licking the tip. Looking up at him, his head is thrown against the door and he’s watching me. The man is so damn sexy. His abs clench as I keep moving.

  “Fuck, fuck,” he moans. “I’m going to come.” He tries to pull out at first, but I clamp down. He grabs the sides of my head and pumps into me in earnest. Warm jets of cum spurt down my throat and his groans spur me on. When his dick is finally still, I release him and look up.

  “Fuck, that’s hot seeing my cum dripping out of the corner of your mouth. One day I want to see it drip out of your pussy.” With a thumb, he dabs my lip. Glancing down, his cock still strains toward me, pink and glistening. I move to lick it and he stops me, saying, “Oh no, you don’t. My turn.”

  He steps out of his jeans and we finally make it to the couch. Kind of. He sits on the floor and leans his head back against it. “Knees on the couch. Ride my face, Special. I’m going to eat your pussy like it’s Christmas dinner.”

  Chapter 31

  Weston

  Seeing Special with my cock crammed down her throat was better than telling my dad to fuck himself in the ass. It was better than—fuck, it was better than goddamn nirvana. At first I thought she would balk at the way I ordered her around, but she was all in. And she drank every drop I shot off into her.

  Now, she sits on my face. She appeared shocked at first, but I wanted her pussy, every fucking bit of it. And I’m going to tongue fuck her until she screams my name and comes until s
he sees stars. I have her lips spread and my fingers smear her wetness over her clit. She’s moaning like I’ve never heard her before.

  She grinds her hips on me, and I know she’s close. She’s so fucking ready, and I can’t wait to fuck the wet out of her. Hard.

  “Yeah, don’t stop. Right there.”

  Her hands are all over my hair, yanking on it as she sits on me. Then it hits as her inner muscles clench on my tongue and her back arches as she rockets off.

  When she relaxes, I lift her up and tell her to bend over the arm of the couch. I hunt for my discarded pants to search for my wallet and grab a condom. She checks me out over her shoulder, not speaking. Once I’m ready, I run my fingers up and over her sex from behind.

  Not giving her any time to think about what’s coming, I slam into her, hard. She moans.

  “Again?”

  “Yes.”

  I repeat, again and again, until she’s begging me to make her come. But I don’t give in. This time I’m going to make her work for it…stretch it out and make it last. I pull all the way out and massage the cheeks of her gorgeous ass, teasing her as she whines.

  “This is my ride, not yours. You don’t get to call the shots here.” I spin her around and kiss her brutally. Not one tiny bit of her mouth is left untouched. She kisses me back with everything she has. Special wants this as much as me. She tries to grab my dick, but I knock her hand away.

  “No. This is my game now.” She has a wounded look in her eyes, but I run my tongue along the side of her neck and suck, taking her mind off it. Tweaking her nipples, then nipping them with my teeth has her whimpering again.

  “Please, Weston. I need … I need to come.” She crosses her legs and squirms.

  “You will. With your hand. Now.”

  Her head immediately dips as she stares at me, openmouthed. “What?”

  I point to the floor. “There. Now. Lie down and spread your legs wide. Show me how you get yourself off.”

  Her head moves from me to the floor and then back to me. “No.”

  “Yes. Now. Move it.” My voice is stern. I know immediately when she gives in. She lies down and opens wide for me. One hand tentatively reaches between her thighs. “Special, I can’t see you very well. Spread yourself for me. I want to see that pretty pink pussy of yours, see the wetness dripping out of you.”

  After a loud huff, she does what I ask.

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?” she asks.

  “Because I said so.”

  She complies and it makes it easier for her. And harder for me because with her exposed to me this way all I want to do is fuck her. She gyrates into her hand, and I decide to surprise her with a little something. I go into the kitchen and grab an ice cube from the freezer. She’s so gone she doesn’t hear, but when I run it along her slit, back and forth, she cries out.

  “Keep touching your clit. I want to see you come.”

  I continue rubbing the ice cube back and forth until I sense her impending orgasm, then I slide what’s left of the half moon shaped ice inside her and follow it with my dick. She grinds against me, grabbing onto me with both hands. I can feel her icy muscles rhythmically clench my dick as I pump in and out. Soon the cold is quickly replaced by the fire created by our friction. It doesn’t take long after to have my own release.

  Later that night in the shower, I take her again, and then once more in bed. I’ll never get enough of her. The next morning, I wake up with her hair wrapped around my hand and one leg thrown over my hip. My dick is rock-hard as if we didn’t fuck a thousand ways to Sunday a few hours ago.

  A warm hand tightens around said appendage and I hear her chuckle.

  “Someone was certainly horny last night.”

  Finding the juncture of her thighs, I slip my hand between them, saying, “Yes, someone was. You almost tore your apartment door down to get me in here.”

  She leans up on an elbow and says, “You ruined my favorite work shirt.” Then she pulls the covers back to reveal her hand on my cock, working it in a nice slow motion. She crawls over to it and takes the whole thing into her mouth. God, she’s the perfect antidote to morning wood.

  “You don’t have to swallow, you know.”

  “Mmmhmm,” I get back. She continues sucking me off. I try to go easy on her, not forcing my dick down her throat, but damn, it’s hard not to when she has me in this position. I tip my hips up and down, rocking into her warm, wet haven of a mouth faster and faster. She continues to take it until I tell her I’m about to shoot off. Then she stops and I almost whine like a fucking baby.

  “Are you clean?” she asks out of the blue.

  Rubbing a hand over my face, I say, “Yeah. I’ve never had sex without protection.”

  “You’re the first person I’ve been with since high school. Where are your condoms?”

  “I put some on your night stand.”

  She reaches for one, then straddles me. I’m about to bust it watching her roll the thing on. Then she seats herself to the fucking hilt.

  “Oh. Fuck. Me.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  And does she ever. She rides me hard and it’s glorious. I lie and watch as she pinches my nipples and her hips work me over. Then she stops. I think I know what she’s up to, but I’m wrong.

  “You going to tell me why you were so glum last night?”

  She leans back and runs a finger around my balls. Fuck. “Ah!” I’m panting with need. “Can we talk about this later?”

  “Nope. Now.”

  “It’s my father.”

  She tightens her grip on my balls and then clenches her pussy on my dick. “I know that. But what happened?”

  My fingers sink into the soft flesh of her hips and I try to move her up and down, but she swats my hands away. “Huh-uh. Answer me.”

  “I told him to fuck himself. In the ass.”

  She half-sorts. “I bet that went over well. What precipitated it?” She slides up and down very slowly with a wicked gleam in her eye.

  “A potential mass exit of architects and engineers from the company.”

  The gleam disappears and is replaced by genuine concern. A palm reaches for my cheek and she says, “Oh, no.”

  “Now can we finish?”

  She moves again, faster, and adds the nipple play again. We’re back to full fledged fucking, and I’m almost shooting off when she says, “Don’t come yet. I have a plan for you.”

  “What? You’d better hurry then.”

  She slides off me and pulls the condom off. What the fuck is she doing?

  Shit, fuck, damn! I grab my dick to do damage control. Too late. It’s a damn cumtastrophe. But she doesn’t care. She laughs. She fucking laughs. I’m left with a slippery mess all over my hands, her, and the sheets. I don’t care if she doesn’t, but damn, she should’ve told me ahead of time.

  “I wanted to watch you come.”

  I ask, “Why was that so funny? And a little more warning would’ve been nice.”

  “You looked like a teenager getting caught.”

  “I wanted to contain it.”

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Kiss me. You’re so fucking perfect. And can you please go on the pill or something? Christ, fucking you without a condom would be like magic. Do you have, oh, I don’t know, pixie dust in your pussy?”

  She falls back on the bed in a fit of giggles. I love to hear this woman laugh.

  “Pixie dust? Where the hell did that come from?”

  “Your pussy is magic. It does things to me that should never be allowed.”

  I roll over her and nip her lips with my teeth. “Seriously. You’ve woven a spell on me. You are magic. And special. But I already told you that. I need to stop before your head swells and starts to resemble my dick.”

  The look on her face is priceless. She drops her forehead onto my chest and I can hear her snorting. Then she says, “It’s usually the guy who is referred to as dickhead.”

  W
e’re silent as our eyes meet. Long lashes shade her dark cocoa irises. They’re warm and inviting, exactly like the beverage.

  Her fingers thread into my hair. “I love your hair. Don’t ever cut it.”

  I let out a derisive laugh. “Yeah, you need to let my old man hear that. Wait. Never mind. He doesn’t think very highly of you.”

  “Don’t I know. But I don’t really care about him. Only you.”

  I smile at her words, because she does care. My heart gives a little poke inside my chest, and it warms my body. I want this feeling to last forever. I want to bathe in it, wrap myself in it, surround myself with it. When you’ve never had it, and suddenly it’s there, you never want to let it go. Choked with emotion, I don’t speak for a moment. As much as I want to say I hate my parents, don’t want them in my life, it’s not true. I would beg on my knees for them to embrace me the way she does. Only I know it’s fruitless … ridiculous to even think this way. I need to cut my ties, but it’s easier said than done.

  I run a finger over the velvety skin of her cheek, stopping at the tiny crease that forms next to her mouth when she smiles. “There are so many things in life that people worry about, fuss over, and get stressed about. But there are so few things that truly matter. You matter, Special. My family…they’ve never given a shit about me. After they gave me life, they basically walked away, washed their hands of me. In the short time I’ve known you, you’ve cared more about me than they have in my twenty-six years. That’s damn pathetic. But you know something? It’s not how long you know someone. It’s the care they demonstrate that counts. You matter, Special.”

  “You matter too, Weston.”

  When her arms circle my neck, it feels like I’m home, like this is where I’m supposed to be.

  Clearing my throat, I say, “You wanted to know what happened. Why I was acting weird. Here’s the whole story.” One by one the words come out until she knows the entire dirty story.

  “So the chairman of the board called my dad and told him. And in turn, Dad called me. He was furious for a couple of reasons. One, because I didn’t come to him first. And two, he thought I orchestrated it all. I tried to tell him I had no idea any of it was going on until I had coffee with one of the architects, but he called me a liar.”

 

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