Zero Forks

by Cat Johnson

  “Yes, wine,” he replied poking his head back through the open doorway from the hall. “You’re done working for the night.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can.”

  Before I could argue he was gone. I glanced at the time and saw how late it was. Stewie was definitely in bed. I didn’t want to wake him up.

  I sighed. My work-life balance was a shambles.

  Maybe I needed Boone to be my manny as much as Stewie’s. Otherwise I might never break for a meal or get to sleep.

  It was an interesting concept. A nanny for workaholics.

  He was already doing the housekeeping, shopping and cooking.

  Something else Boone could do for me popped into my head, vivid enough I fought to beat it back into the dark recesses of my mind. But damn, it would be tempting to drag the idea back out and revisit it again later when I was alone in bed.

  “Here you go.”

  I jumped at the sound of his voice behind me. He’d snuck up on me again. Apparently thinking about Boone in my bed was as consuming as work. Interesting.

  He handed me the water first. I took the glass and downed a big sip.

  “More,” he said.

  Frowning I raised the glass to my lips again and drained half of it. Shooting him a glare as I lowered the glass. “Enough, Dad?”

  I was being a smart ass but he was unfazed.

  He grinned. “You want to call me Daddy, you go right ahead.”

  I rolled my eyes and accepted the glass of wine he handed me next.

  “So, how is work coming?” he asked.

  “Really, really, good.”

  “Good. Now put it away.”

  “I just—”

  “Nope.” He shook his head.

  I drew in a breath. “Can I at least show you what I did?”

  “Yes. I’d love to see it.”

  As I glanced from the story board I’d made for the commercial, back to my computer to admire the graphic I’d created, I felt the bed shift. Then there was Boone, in bed next to me.

  He leaned closer to my screen, so close that every breath I took brought with it the unique scent of Boone.

  I should get up, move this to another area of the room. One that was less bed-filled. But I really did want to show him what I’d done.

  And he did seem interested.

  I decided to just control my lust and go on with explaining the concept to him since I really did need another opinion. To me, it seemed perfect. But I’d been wrong before. I needed a less subjective opinion than my own.

  The truth was, either my boss would like it or he wouldn’t. But it wouldn’t hurt to have another set of eyes on it before I showed it to him.

  Those eyes should be Boone’s since it was all thanks to his idea. I’d fleshed it out, developed it, but it was undeniably my chat with Boone that was responsible for the completed campaign in front of me.

  He was so much more than just a pretty face and body—and that was the last thing I needed. A hot young guy I would have been able to resist easily—probably—but not one who was apparently a marketing savant.

  For a woman like me, who got excited over picking fonts, that might prove irresistible.

  I breathed deep and felt that deep down tingle of satisfaction as I admired what I hoped would become the campaign for MOD.

  I was riding a high and I needed to share. I angled my computer screen to face him.

  He read aloud, “Times have changed. Your entertainment should too. MOD.”

  “That’s for a social media post so I kept it short.” I stepped beside him to glance at the picture of a woman in nineteen-twenties garb riding an old-fashioned bicycle. Over it was the few lines of text he’d read in bold, easy to read fonts.

  There was another version too, same text but the picture featured a child rapt, watching an old black and white television.

  I explained, “The idea here is to just stop the scroll and get them to click.”

  He nodded.

  I reached for the story board. Luckily my car was more like a storage locker at this point and I had all the supplies I needed to create the presentation without running out to buy anything.

  “This is for the commercial.”

  “The Superbowl commercial?” He grinned.

  “I can only hope. So we open on a party in the nineteen-twenties. Very Gatsby. The typical clothes, hair and music of the period. A woman walks in with her friends, looks around and says, ‘This place is the bee’s knees.’ Her friends all agree. A young man grabs her hand and they start dancing.

  “Cut to modern times. A loud nightclub. The music is deafening. Pounding. Lights flashing. People dancing. One woman says something but the music is so loud the group of women she’s with can’t hear her. So she repeats herself, shouting loudly, ‘This place is the bee’s knees.’ Everyone hears her this time. It stops the dancing. The DJ stops the music with a scratch. Her friends stare at her like she’s crazy. So does everyone in the place.”

  Boone grinned.

  Encouraged by his reaction, I went on.

  “Final scene, we cut to the woman coming home. Her husband is in the kitchen making popcorn. He asks how girls’ night out was. She says it was all right but she’s happy to be home. She says to the television, which is equipped with a MOD device, ‘MOD, I want to watch something set in the nineteen-twenties.’ A list of movies and TV shows appear on screen. She chooses one. He brings over the bowl of popcorn, and they happily snuggle in on the sofa together. The voiceover says, Times change. Shouldn’t your entertainment change too?”

  Boone blew out a breath. “Wow.”

  I spun to face him head on. “Don’t humor me. I want your honest opinion. What do you think?”

  His grin spread wide. “I think it’s forking amazing.”

  I laughed, my euphoria bubbling over. “Cuss jar back in play?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Stewie’s in the house. But seriously, you’re going to kick that Jerry’s butt with this presentation. And butt is not a cuss.”

  I cocked a brow. “For a three-year old it is. But we’ll debate that later.” I couldn’t control my smile that he really liked my idea. “I can’t wait to get to work tomorrow.”

  Boone frowned, looking at me closer. “After a good night’s sleep tonight. You look exhausted.”

  I waved away his concern. “No, I’m fine. I just want to work a little more on—”

  “Nuh, uh. You can’t get in a car and drive an hour and a half on zero sleep. I’ll drive you to work myself if I have to.”

  When he folded those burly arms of his, he was like a human wall . . . one I’d like to climb.

  At that thought I realized he might be right. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was giddy over my project and the late hour. Still, I wasn’t feeling tired.

  I supposed I could just close my eyes and imagine Jerry’s expression when I presented the perfect pitch to the boss until I drifted off.

  Or I could spend the time doing something even more enjoyable. I could spend it with Boone.

  “Boone, seriously, thank you. I mean that. This was all you.”

  He shook his head. “No. It was all you.”

  I tipped my head to one side. “Agree to disagree.”

  “Agreed.” He nodded, grinning.

  “I’m glad I met you, Boone Morgan.”

  His chest rose and fell as his eyes met my gaze. “I thank God every day that I happened to be at that diner at the same time you were.”

  “Because I’d locked my nephew in the car and you were there to save him?” I guessed.

  “No. Because you’re an amazing woman and I’m happy to know you. And I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

  He was good. I was breathless just from his words. He hadn’t even touched me yet.

  I really, really wanted him to touch me.

  He’d gotten closer somehow. I’d moved in maybe. Or he had.

  Our lips were just a breath apart and still, suddenly
, it was too far.

  He was right. I was overtired. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Or maybe, for the first time in a long time, I was.

  I’d stopped worrying about what I should do. Enough to allow myself to do what I wanted to do.

  “Boone.”

  “Yeah?”

  I leaned in just a bit toward his lips. I saw the moment he made the decision. A determination darkened his eyes.

  That was the last I saw of them before his lips crashed against mine.

  SIXTEEN

  Boone

  Did I expect this to happen today? Hell no.

  Was I prepared for it? Fuck, yeah.

  I’d been a Boy Scout for ten years. I knew the Boy Scout motto. I lived it my whole life . . . at least my whole adult sexual life.

  Always be prepared.

  It had served me well. Today especially.

  I’d been carrying around a hope of having Sarah’s sweet lips against mine since I met her. And that hope had me carrying around protection ever since, just in case.

  Boo yah!

  I wasn’t even sure how we’d gone from talking about her ad campaign to this—her fingers tangled in my hair as she held me tight, keeping my mouth against hers.

  Perhaps it had something to do with the location. We’d been reviewing her ads in her bed. Or at least, while sitting on top of it.

  Hell, I didn’t know and I didn’t care. Finally, she was kissing me instead of fighting this attraction that was so strong between us.

  That was all that mattered.

  Her skin was warm and smooth as silk as I cupped her face between my palms.

  The tangling of our tongues was hot as fuck.

  At my age, I might be a little old to be enjoying this good old-fashioned high school-worthy make-out session quite so much, but I really was enjoying the fuck out of it.

  And if—when, God willing—things progressed further, that would be just fine with me too.

  I could be here with her doing this all night. Hopefully, we would be, without interruption.

  Stewie was asleep and we had hours before sunrise. I’d be tired as fuck tomorrow at work but it would be worth it.

  So damn worth it.

  Her hands on the elastic waist of my cotton shorts grabbed every ounce of my attention, while most of my blood rushed to my cock in response.

  Thank God I’d taken a shower before dinner and had changed out of my jeans and into cotton shorts. The drawstring waist presented so much less of an obstacle between us.

  I’d take it slow if that’s what she wanted, but I was fine with fast too. When she slipped her hand inside my shorts and kept going, Junior did a happy dance in my briefs, straining to reach out and greet her.

  One shove and she had me on my back on the bed. I lifted my head in time to see her slide my cock into her mouth.

  Had I died and gone to heaven?

  Had I fallen asleep and this was a dream?

  If it was, it was a damn good one. I could feel the heat of her mouth. The tip of her tongue swirling around me. The tight grasp of her fist on my shaft working up and down until my balls tingled with the pleasure.

  I hissed in a breath through my clenched teeth as I watched the beautiful, amazing woman take me all the way in.

  It was an effort to keep my eyes open but I managed it. I didn’t want to miss a second of this.

  Even when she took my breath away and started to steal all of my ability for rational thought, I held on, memorizing every second of this to relive later.

  Coming in her mouth would be a dream come true. But the reality of coming while buried inside her would be even better.

  I grabbed her head to hold her still and lifted her off me.

  Those eyes, narrow with lust, met mine. I nearly pushed her back down over my shaft and finished this. But I held strong and instead flipped her over, reversing our positions so she was on her back and I was between her legs.

  I sent a silent thank you to whoever had invented yoga pants as I pulled hers down her legs along with her underwear.

  That she let me and then spread her legs after they were free of the clothes was all the encouragement I needed. I dove in, headfirst, spread her lips and latched on to her with my mouth.

  She cried out, jerking her hips up. I held on for the ride, maintaining my grip on her with my hands and contact with my mouth.

  From my position I could watch her face. I saw her mouth drop open as she gasped. Saw her cheeks color as her breath quickened. Loved every second as her head dropped back and her hips lifted higher.

  She clenched her muscles, from her thighs on either side of my head, to her fists gripping the bedcovers, right down to her toes, curled as she bent her knees and writhed beneath me.

  My always-serious lady who seemed to never let loose, sure let loose now. So loudly I glanced toward the door, half expecting Stewie to barrel in at any second.

  I hadn’t locked it. There hadn’t been a reason to. Then. There sure was a reason now.

  Lesson learned.

  There was nothing more beautiful than a woman in the midst of an orgasm—except maybe that woman seconds afterward as she looked at me. Breathless. Her eyes out of focus. Her cheeks flushed.

  I wiped the back of my hand over my mouth and pulled myself up to be level with her on the pillow, covering her body with mine and bracketing her head between my forearms on the pillow.

  Junior, hard-as-nails and not nearly satisfied, pressed between us. She wouldn’t be able to miss it.

  “I want all of you. Now,” I said.

  She nodded and my pulse picked up speed. Then I realized the condoms were in my room.

  I dove, head-first off the bed and ran for the door. Hand on the knob, I looked back. “Be back in ten seconds.”

  “Okay.” She smiled.

  I might have broken the promise and made it back in eight seconds instead, box in my hand because I didn’t think one would be enough.

  This time I did lock the door. I wasn’t taking any chances.

  Naked and sheathed, I had one knee up to climb onto the bed when I noticed her gaze on me. Well, actually, on Junior. I paused, staying there where I was. Who was I to deny a lady what she wanted?

  Finally she raised her gaze to mine and blushed. “Sorry. I was staring.”

  I laughed and finished my ascent onto the mattress where I angled myself to fit between her legs.

  “Baby, you can stare all you want. You can touch too. But later. Right now, I have other plans.” I proved the point by tipping my hips and pressing deep.

  Then the joking was over, because holy fuck, I swear I had not one brain cell left firing as she surrounded me. Tight. Hot.

  Pulsing as she performed some woo-woo voodoo and squeezed me inside her. The move forced the breath from my lungs and momentarily stopped my forward momentum.

  I pushed against the glorious friction, slowly, a bit at a time, until finally I bottomed out.

  Her hands grasped my ass cheeks and held me there. I couldn’t move and I didn’t care. Junior and I were happy right where we were.

  Things got even happier when I felt her grinding against me. Felt her breathing speed. Then felt her muscles start to convulse around me.

  I raised my head in time to see her eyes closed tight and her mouth open on a cry.

  When I realized she was coming again, I blew out a cuss that would probably cost me a twenty in the swear jar and I didn’t care. Worth every fucking penny.

  I held on, riding the waves of her orgasm until, boneless and panting beneath me, she finally released her grip on my ass. I took full advantage of the freedom and dove into her with all the pent up desire her coming around me had built.

  It didn’t take long. I felt the point of no return barreling down on me and I didn’t mind one bit. It was time to make my fantasies of coming inside this woman a reality.

  I swear I saw stars as the release exploded from me.

  My arms shook as I braced above her, trying to regain
my breath and my sanity because there was no doubt my wanting this woman to distraction, and then finally having her, was enough to make a man lose his mind.

  Finally, spent, I gave up the struggle and collapsed on top of her.

  I didn’t want to leave her body. Semi-hard, I considered going for round two right now . . . then I heard her sigh.

  Lifting my head, I got a glance at her expression. “You okay?”

  “No.”

  I definitely did not like that answer. I rolled to the side and lifted up on one elbow, laying my other hand on her bare stomach. “What’s wrong?”

  “How old are you?” she asked.

  We’d just had some pretty amazing sex and this was what she wanted to talk about?

  “Old enough,” I answered.

  “Boone. Seriously.”

  “I was being serious.” With a sigh, I finally answered, “Twenty-six.”

  She blew out a breath. “Oh my God.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Sarah scowled. “Because I have shoes older than you.”

  “Really? How do you manage that? Because no matter what I do, even if I get them resoled, I can’t keep a pair of work boots longer than two or three years.”

  She pulled her mouth to one side. “Boone, I’m being serious here.”

  “Again, so am I.” I sat up, not liking how this conversation was going. Not one little bit.

  I didn’t win this woman only to lose her again after one tumble in bed. I wanted her for as long as she’d have me.

  Unfortunately, that was looking like it wouldn’t be for very much longer.

  I refused to accept our time was over already. “Sarah, I don’t give a fu—uh—fork that there’s a little bit of age between us.”

  She let out a short laugh. “Little bit? It’s thirteen years, Boone. I graduated high school when you were five. Five!”

  She held up her hand, the fingers on one hand spread wide, as if I’d need a visual of what five looked like. She could say it anyway she wanted but it didn’t matter to me.

  I didn’t care how old she was, or how old I was when she first got to vote or drive or whatever.

  All I cared about was right now. Right here. Her and me, together.

  I lifted one shoulder. “Lucky for me I didn’t know you then. I met you now, when I am old enough to make you come. Twice, if I’m not mistaken.”