I hummed against his ear as my fingers dipped behind the soft cotton material of his underwear. His cock was warm and fit nicely in my palm. Shorter than mine and already thick and leaking. Damn, I wished I could see it—along with his expression—when I unraveled him like a loose thread.
As I stroked him from root to tip, he panted out a harsh breath and his head fell forward, as if in relief.
“Pretend your pretty cock in is my mouth, Will,” I grunted into his ear. I felt his shoulders quiver. “I’m on my knees for you. And your hands are on my head guiding me, helping me deep-throat you.”
He jerked in surprise, his whole body going still for one cataclysmic moment, before his head dropped and he let out a guttural moan. His cock turned heavy as a sandbag in my hand and I figured he was seconds away.
My other hand reached beneath his shirt to tweak his nipple as I continued helping him come undone. “And I can’t get enough of your cock. It’s fat and just the right size for my mouth. I have no gag reflex so it’s sitting way back in my throat as I suck you dry.”
“Holy fucking hell,” Billie blurted out as his come shot over my hand and trickled down the front of his boxers. It sucked that he’d have to go home like that, but in the end I hoped he thought it was worth it.
I held him closely against me as he panted and shuddered attempting to gain some measure of control—the same control he had given up to me. And I’d be fucking grateful every day. I got my last whiff of him, the vanilla now mixing with the scent of come, making me rock solid behind my zipper.
I kissed his skin one last time as I helped tuck him back in and zipped his pants. “Heading to the bathroom to wash my hands. I’ll meet you out in my truck.”
I stumbled away from him, so damn hard I could barely see straight. I got my ass into the first stall that opened and locked the door. I unzipped and yanked on my cock until I came, all the while imagining it was Billie’s hand gripping me.
5
Dylan
I tried my best not to make Billie feel strange or embarrassed on the ride home, even though the evidence of what we did still wafted in the air between us in the stuffy truck. I could tell he was sticky and uncomfortable as he shifted in the seat, but he also had a sated gleam in his eyes that I couldn’t help feeling good about placing there. The musky scent of our come mixing as my fingers gripped the steering wheel made the night even more surreal.
When I pulled into Shady Pines and Billie slid out of the truck with an adorably awkward glance, he turned back to me. “Dylan, uh, thanks. I—”
“Catch you later,” I replied in a chipper voice, cutting him off. I waved and continued jamming to my tunes as I headed out of the long driveway. As if we’d just been two friends taking a load off after a busy week of work.
When I got home to the basement apartment that I rented from Earl Brown, an elderly man on a pension, the air felt stifling. The place was a shithole of leftover furniture and sometimes I slept on the couch because it was more comfortable than my bed, but at least I could afford the lease. No way did I ever want to sleep on the streets again. But I also didn’t want to stay here forever. I was going to save my money from dancing at STUDS to get a place I could finally call my own. And maybe even go back to school.
Billie grew up with the luxury of having a place to call home and family always surrounding him, and as I lie down in my sheets, I ached with the same loneliness I always did, wishing for something I didn’t have. I dried my damp eyes with the heel of my hand and told myself to suck it up. At least I had a little taste of heaven tonight. I got to put my hands on the same boy I’d been half in love with since high school. He trusted me because I made him feel safe. And that was everything.
The weekend flew by with errands and helping Mr. Brown mow the grass and weed the flowerbeds. He was too arthritic to do it himself and it came as part of the deal in renting the apartment. I was used to it though, because if I didn’t keep the yard up for my dad, the neighbors would’ve started to complain. Say what you will about rural hick towns, but everyone took care of their own.
In fact, I’d heard my dad was evicted not long after he kicked me out and no longer lived in Roscoe. For all I knew, he was conning another unsuspecting woman out of her money, like I heard he did my mother, whom I never met. Apparently she skipped town a few months after I was born.
I hadn’t seen Billie since I dropped him off Saturday night. Since Grammy worked with him every Sunday, and the shop was closed on Mondays, it was Tuesday by the time I laid eyes on him again.
But I made sure to waltz into Montgomery’s Sweets like what happened between us in that dark corner of the bar was no big thing. No way I wanted it to be awkward between us day in and day out. It took Billie several hours to relax around me, but then we simply fell into the same routine, which was definitely for the best. He tried bringing up the topic a couple of times, but I didn’t want his guilt or his apology, so I kept brushing him off.
“Let sleeping dogs lie,” I hissed at him. Eventually he gave up, but given the kind of guy he was, I knew he stewed on it for the rest of the afternoon.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feel of my hand around his cock all week long. I had regular hookups so it should’ve been no big thing, but it seemed every time he passed by me on his way to the mixer to beat the egg whites for our lemon meringue pies, all the hairs on my arms would be buzzing. One time I heard him inhale sharply through his nose as our hips brushed, but I couldn’t go there. Not with him. If I did, I’d be the one left hurt and disappointed. So I just chalked it up to one nice fantasy.
On Friday, I showed up at STUDS for my usual shift. Same as last week, I was dancing beside this guy named Aaron and I’d admit it was awesome to get my groove back on. Up here above the crowd I could be anybody I wanted to be. I could pretend I was in some show where people paid to see me dance. And not just with tips—like the bills hanging from my waistband tonight—from men who got close enough when I bent low on the platform.
Tonight we were blinged out with some top hats and suspenders and the audience ate it up. The closet in the back changing room had different props we could use to help make our little corner of the bar interesting.
Aaron was an awesome dancer and we were able to get in sync during certain songs so it looked like we had rehearsed it. I was beginning to look forward to Friday nights. Like all of my stressors of the week could be washed away just from being pumped up on my own adrenaline. I felt like I was the king of the world instead of a minimum-wage dancer in a nightclub.
“You’ve got some great moves, Dylan,” Aaron shouted over his shoulder as he shook his ass in my direction. The club shorts we were given to wear with the STUDS logo on the back were tight and showed off our bulges well. But Aaron’s ass was perfection and gave me something to focus on—especially on nights like this when my thoughts and emotions were all over the map. “Have you ever been in a dance or theatre troupe? Or did you train somewhere?”
I wished my answer were different, but if it were would I seriously be dancing in this type of club?
“Nah, I was never able to make college work or a dance career, for that matter,” I said and then rolled my eyes. “Obviously.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. Hey, listen.” He slinked over to me and threw his arms around my shoulders so we could talk and coordinate our dance moves. “I belong to the Sunflower Community Theatre in Gainesville. We have a production coming up—Hairspray,” he said, his eyes lighting up.
Holy fuck, it was as if he knew my list of top five musicals of all time. Not that I ever had the money to see any of them. But I watched a bunch of stuff online.
“You should audition just for the hell of it,” he continued, pretending to nuzzle my ear. “You got a decent singing voice?”
“I guess so,” I replied in a daze, because a thrill shot through me right along with panic. I certainly didn’t want to get my hopes up, because I also would probably be way too rusty for them. Besides the
fact that I had no resume to speak of. “But I wouldn’t be able to carry a tune solo.”
“We’re only trying to fill in the background dancers and you’d join in the chorus. Have you ever been in a theater production?”
I thought of how often my father and I had been evicted and how many different school systems I’d been in. A couple of them had show choirs I’d joined. But that seemed ages ago. “Not many and definitely not as an adult.”
“No worries, we’re not Broadway or anything. But we do have a ton of fun.” He shot me a wicked grin and then grabbed my hips to grind us together as our audience below cheered. “When we get back to the dressing room, I’ll give you the information. All you have to do is come up with a two minute original audition number.”
For the first time in a long while, I felt a different kind of buzzing in my stomach—one filled with possibilities.
“Now kiss me, so we get more tips.” He grabbed my head and fused our mouths together as the crowd went wild. His lips were rough and when his hands grabbed my ass, my cock got stiff. But like most of my hookups, it was purely a physical sensation. My heart was never in it—probably because it already belonged to one smart, sexy, and driven boy.
If Billie ended up with Leo I would wish them well, and hopefully someday I’d find a guy to call my own. But definitely not tonight.
The following Saturday, Billie and I went out like clockwork. I briefly wondered if he’d come up with an excuse to bow out, but as he sank into the passenger seat of my truck and we drove to Lasso, he acted just as glad to be out as always.
Lasso was a bar we had frequented on a couple other occasions and a place he would’ve considered safer—since there was a miniscule dance floor fueled solely by a honkytonk jukebox.
As Billie found us two bar stools to sink down on, I realized how relieved I was that we weren’t at a loud and showy dance club tonight. Truth be told, I was pretty tired—it had been a long week.
But as I looked him over I felt a wash of disappointment too. More than likely Billie and I would never mention what happened between us again. But at least we were back to our normal routine.
6
Billie
My brother Callum was shooting the breeze with Dylan up front. It was after our lunch rush and I was busy restocking some of our inventory that had sold out in a flurry.
“I can’t believe you’re getting married,” I heard Dylan say.
“Right?” Callum replied, squatting down to pet Bullseye. He was lying near the main window, his favorite perch to watch the town, while still keeping an eye on me, of course. I almost felt guilty, like I should relieve him of his duties and allow him to rest peacefully like a normal aging dog would. But Dylan reminded me that I was Bullseye’s favorite human on earth and that he’d follow me everywhere I went, regardless.
“It’s about time,” I said, lifting a tray of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.
Callum had popped the question a few months back, apparently while he and Dean were visiting Gus near the apple orchard. Gus was our resident albino peacock that only made an appearance after midnight. There had been some sort of inside joke between them for years about Gus—one I wasn’t sure I wanted to know—so it seemed fitting that the bird was witness to their engagement.
In lieu of a bridal shower, Grammy was holding what she called a grooms’ luncheon on late Sunday afternoon after Sweets closed up shop. Guests were expected to bring the men gifts for the new home they were building on the property.
Callum had been living in a small trailer that Daddy had helped him construct a few years ago near the orchard, but Dean couldn’t deal—he needed more room, he’d said. To hell with tiny houses. He’d been commuting to his university job at the lab and would still keep his apartment there, but the house was Callum’s wedding gift to Dean.
And Grammy wanted to fill it with all kinds of stuff.
“Grammy put you up to making all the dessert?” Callum asked, standing to his full height. He was like a giant ginger lumberjack, and was even taller than our brother Braden. We didn’t even seem related. I had always been on the thinner side. My brown hair was a lighter shade than Braden’s, whereas Callum and my sister, Cassie, had the same auburn hair as the photos I’d seen of my mother.
“Nah, I volunteered,” I replied. Besides, I wouldn’t trust anybody else with the task. Unless of course it was Grammy. Or Dylan, using my recipes. “I’ll start baking Saturday once we close up shop. Grammy and Braden can help with anything Sunday morning after we open Sweets. Plenty of time to be ready for the afternoon.”
Dylan was busy cleaning the empty glass displays with vinegar and water and I noticed how Callum stopped to whisper something in his direction before waving as he went out the door. My family always did that—conspired behind my back like I wasn’t there. More than likely Callum had asked Dylan to keep an eye on me or to make sure I wasn’t working too hard.
“So Saturday night is off, then?” Dylan asked, barely making eye contact. Was that a hint of disappointment I detected in his voice? Or was he embarrassed that I had caught him colluding with my brother? He knew how much I hated being babied. We’d argued about it before, but he always reminded me that he never had that growing up, so he thought it was sweet. I always backed down because he was right, but enough was enough.
“Guess so. I need to make several pies and one large cake,” I said, trying to keep my own tone intact. Saturday was the one day of the week I looked forward to most. “Have fun without me.”
“Nah, I’ll stick around to help,” he said through a yawn. He’d been looking more tired lately and I had to wonder if he was getting enough sleep.
“You don’t need to.” More than likely Callum had put him up to it, but I couldn’t be sure. Besides, Dylan was always trying to help whenever he could. “You’re not on the schedule.”
“I want to,” he said, rubbing out a stubborn spot on the glass. “Besides, it’s for Callum and Dean. So I’ll help however I can. Okay, boss?”
My nostrils flared. His tone reminded me of the words he whispered in my ear that one night. Tell me what you want. I hadn’t been able to let go like that in a long time and he knew it—knew me almost too well.
I couldn’t even look him in the eye on the ride home after I had lost myself so completely to his touch. But it was fucking nice not to have to think for a change. Having Dylan around took the pressure off because I trusted him—he was as close to me as any family member. Which is why what happened between us also felt wrong, even though it was so damn hot.
Even though it shouldn’t have, it sort of pissed me off that he was so nonchalant about it. Like me making myself vulnerable in front of him was no big thing, when he knew damn well that it was. Unless I had misjudged him or as I long suspected, he viewed sex way differently. It seemed he could totally disengage from the act.
I was being ridiculous, though. Wasn’t his carefree attitude exactly what I would’ve wanted after making that sort of impulsive decision with my best friend? A best friend that I wasn’t interested in dating but was absolutely terrified of losing?
By the time Saturday morning rolled around, there were shadows beneath Dylan’s eyes, which convinced me that he was either getting laid or had insomnia.
“Late night?” I asked, trying not to sound too paternal. Normally, Dylan was like an open book so for him to neglect telling me about every facet of his life confused me. In fact, he had become a bit closed off since that one night between us. And I didn’t know what that meant, only that it unnerved me.
“Something like that,” he mumbled and then got working at the Cimbali machine, roasting our morning coffees. Some days I didn’t know what I’d do without him, without this routine of having my best friend in my life on a daily basis. I knew eventually this arrangement would have to end, especially since his passion was absolutely not Montgomery’s Sweets. He enjoyed the work, but let’s face it, he didn’t plan menus in his head like I did every night. But worki
ng side by side with him was something I looked forward to, even if he was a pain in my ass most of the time.
“Did you have a hookup?” I asked and then cringed at myself for prying.
Why was it any of my business anyway? He’d hooked up with plenty of men over the years, so why would I care this time? It might’ve had something to do with imagining his hand stroking my cock perfectly, talking dirty in my ear. Did he do that with all the men he slept with? Of course he did—it wasn’t like Dylan jacking me off in the corner of a night club was special.
Dylan yawned at the coffee machine and rubbed his eyes as he balanced the cup beneath, the one he always used special for me. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
His voice was rough and throaty much like the tone he used that night. Imagine that I’m on my knees for you.
“The fuck you don’t,” I huffed after finally swallowing the boulder wedged in my throat. “You love sharing all that shit.”
“Well, whatever, not in the mood.” He raised his arm and waved me off. Normally he engaged wholeheartedly in our playful bickering. “Maybe after a strong cup.”
“Way to avoid the question,” I grumbled recognizing that we had crossed over into new territory. And shit, that wasn’t good. I needed to calm it down and stop acting like a bratty scorned lover or something.
Usually I wanted him to shut the hell up when he talked too much, even though I secretly enjoyed it. It was better than his silence. But after that one night, I couldn’t help scrutinizing his every move.
“You’re just a ball of energy this morning,” he muttered.
“Please, you give me shit all the time.” I pushed open the bakery window and adjusted the Danishes that had shifted. “So when I do it to you, you can’t take the heat.”
“You know what? Fine. Fuck it,” he huffed. Squaring his shoulders, he took a deep breath, and looked me in the eye. “I’ve been working at a club every Friday night and by the time we cash out, it’s late. So excuse me for needing to get adjusted to the new schedule.”
The Sweetest Goodbye (Roadmap to Your Heart, Book 3.5) Page 3