by King, Asha
Holy shit, they were really letting her do it?
Bryar swallowed nervously and nodded, then followed Gina out front and ran through two customers under her supervision before Gina at last left with Brennen.
She was slow at the register and filling the coffee orders, at least for the first half hour, which just left ample time for stares and questions. A few photos were snapped and she considered asking Gina if there could be a temporary “no cell phones” sign put in place for future shifts. She was as pleasant as she could be while avoiding questions, filled orders and suggested people head on their way to make room for the lineup, and the time swiftly flew by.
Dusk fell by six, one of the unfortunate side effects of approaching winter, and the dark made the evening feel even later than it was. She turned the CLOSED sign while there were still customers lined up outside, finished the last few people, and then locked up after them.
Eyes still peered at her through the windows. The shop had blinds that were rarely down, at least that she’d seen, but she figured Gina would understand and swiftly lowered them so no one could see inside. Still, there was no telling how long people would be out there—she’d busy herself for the next half hour tidying up. Leave the place spick and span for Gina, and really show her she made the right decision leaving Bryar in charge.
She wrapped up some of the treats—a few would be sold in the morning, still fresh enough for customers, while others she knew Gina sold as day-old discounts—wiped down the register and counters with antibacterial spray, and then headed to the kitchen. There was the floor to sweep and wash, those counters to clean, and the dishwasher to run—chores which took her nearly half an hour. That left the trash.
Downtown Midsummer closed up early most nights. Plenty of shops were still open after six—often until eight or nine—but this time of year, it seemed most residents were in for the night. The parking lot out back was empty, just two cars behind some of the other buildings.
Yellow-orange light from a pair of streetlamps lit the gravel lot and threw layers of shadows against the building. Bryar shivered against the cold—she’d left her jacket inside, planning to be out there for just minutes anyway—and hefted the heavy bag of trash down the porch steps. The dumpster waited on the other side of the lot and already she was regretting leaving her coat in the bakery. Her steps hurried, or at least as much as possible with the garbage in hand.
It wasn’t just a chill from the fall air, she realized as a shiver crawled her spine. It was the people, all day, hanging around the store. The cameras, the eyes on her. She looked around warily but thankfully didn’t see anyone. Still, she felt eyes on her.
It’s nothing. Get the trash tossed, close up, get home.
She focused on the task at hand, pausing at the dumpster and working the lid up enough to ease the garbage in. The trash thumped on top of the bags already in there, plastic crackling and a puff of putrid air floating up, and then she let the lid bang down again. The sound startled the stillness, noise making her jump even though she’d caused it.
For a moment, she stood by the dumpster and did a sweep of the lot. Her heart thudded hard, still unable to shake the feeling she was still being watched. Maybe she should just give the shadows the finger—literally. Let them get a view of that for Instagram. Or flash them.
No one’s there. You’re just being paranoid. Bryar shook her head and took a deep breath, heading back for the store. Her steps were quick, though, quicker than they needed to be. She told herself it was just the cold she sought to escape from, even if she knew it was a lie.
Just as she reached the door, she caught the shrill of the phone from the bakery. She rushed inside, screen door banging shut behind her, and ran for the phone. “Gina’s,” she said swiftly as she answered. “Bryar speaking.”
“It’s just me,” Gina said on the other line. “I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier. I wasn’t sure if you’d still be there by now. How did everything go?” Her voice was friendly but still tight somehow—worried, perhaps. Tense, like maybe Bryar had burned the place down in the meantime. “Any problems?”
“None. Just took the trash out—”
A creak from the direction of the porch drew her attention.
Bryar swung around, her gaze moving from the screen door to the heavier main one she hadn’t closed. Her eyes probed the darkness beyond but couldn’t see anything, just darkness beyond the light of the shop interior.
“Bryar?” Gina prompted.
“Sorry, just thought I heard something.” She gave herself a mental shake and blinked, clearing her head. “No, no problems. Excess cash in the safe, everything’s cleaned up. Customers were fine—closed at six, but there were a bunch of people still lined up.”
“I expect they’ll be gone by the end of the week. I was thinking instead of a shift tomorrow, you could come by on Wednesday for the same time you did today. I ordered some extra supplies when I had a chance tonight and it’ll help if you’re there to receive them?”
Her attention was drawn back to the door as a shadow moved in the corner of her vision. She startled, back striking the counter behind her, and heart leaping to her throat.
Then she recognized the face peering at her through the screen and she let out a heavy breath.
“Same shift on Wednesday, sure,” she said.
“Is everything okay there?”
“Yeah.” Her gaze narrowed, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Just a customer who missed the closed sign—I’ll send him on his way.”
“Call Mike if you have any problems. He’ll respond faster than the police.”
“I will.” Bryar hung up and strolled to the other side of the kitchen, pausing at the door and tried—unconvincingly—to look serious. “We’re closed.”
Sawyer offered a small smile. “I saw the light still on.”
She didn’t know him, even if part of her felt like she did after he’d occupied her thoughts so consistently since Friday night. She had no reason to let him in.
But then he had no reason to show up there either, did he?
Bryar eased open the screen door and Sawyer stepped inside. This time she closed both it and the main door, though she left the deadbolt open.
They stood in the kitchen in silence for a moment; Bryar’s arms crossed at her midsection, Sawyer’s hands shoved in the pockets of his coat, both looking everywhere but at one another.
“So,” he began.
She swallowed dryly and bit at her lower lip. “Yeah.”
“You saw the video.”
“And now I know who you are.”
“You didn’t before?”
She looked at him then and found him studying her expression intently, his dark blue eyes serious. “No. That whole thing about me being kind of fringe-ish was completely accurate. I don’t listen to the radio, I’m not really online, and oh my God, I just realized something.” Her cheeks were likely flaming red and she couldn’t hide her embarrassment at all. “That was your band on that chick’s iPod, wasn’t it?” She hunched her shoulders and braced, eyebrows squeezing in a wince of dread.
But Sawyer just laughed, not bitterly but genuinely. “Yeah. And it’s okay. It was a single from a few years ago that tanked and it’s not like I wrote it anyway.”
“I still feel like such a dick.”
“There’s two types of honesty—the type that’ll tell you your music sucks because they want to be a dick about it, and the type that’ll tell you your music sucks because they just don’t like it. I’m fine with the second. And, for the record, pretty used to the first.”
“I’m sure it’s good for...like...the genre?” God, she just wanted to facepalm. “That didn’t come out right.”
“It’s mediocre for the genre. Manufactured. It’s okay. Anyway.” He eased his hands from his pockets and stood straight again, body language relaxing a little. “I came by because I wanted to apologize. And make sure you were...you know, okay.”
“Small town briefl
y scandalized. The bakery was busy once people figured out I work here but my boss was okay with it.” She shifted from foot to foot—there was really just the one chair back here, not really a spot to sit, and she wasn’t sure if he was staying. She supposed she could invite him to the front to sit and have a coffee, or would that be too presumptuous? Gina might not like it. “I didn’t tell anyone, you know. About, like, you or anything. Or where you’re staying.”
His brows shot up. “You know where I’m staying?”
Shit. “Well, not for sure. I guessed. It’s probably the only beach house occupied at this part of the season.”
“So you came by?”
Double shit. Why did everything coming out of her mouth sound so damn stupid? The heat wasn’t leaving her face and now her neck was itchy. Her gaze skittered away from his and her feet started moving toward the back counter. She’d already wiped them down but she could do it again, finding a cloth by the sink so she could give things another polish. “I was just out for a walk last night. And, well, lights are hard to miss. So I guessed.”
His steps were quiet on the tile behind her and a shiver drifted up her spine, his presence at her back—his eyes on her—weighted and charging the air between them. “Do you...want me to leave?”
“No.” She spun and sucked in a breath of air, finding him just two feet behind her and staring down. Once her eyes hit his, she couldn’t look away again. “I mean, do you want to go? If you just came to see if I was weirded out or said anything to anyone, I didn’t and I’m not. I mean, I’m fine.” And I’m babbling. “So you can go. If you want. If that’s why you tracked me down.”
“Well, I didn’t have your number. And you didn’t call. So considering I’m standing right in front of you now, the question is definitely whether or not you want me here.”
“I do want you. Here.” Did I just say that? Yep, the way he was grinning at her, she definitely did. Her heart was hammering hard, breath coming quickly even though she was just standing there. Warm desire swam through her veins, his mere presence seeming to light her on fire—especially the way he was looking at her now.
He took a step forward and her hands found their way to his waist, fingers locking onto his belt loops and tugging him against her. He cupped her face, tilting her head up, and his lips found hers. The kiss was long and intense, each sweep of his tongue over hers driving her senses wild. Every pore of her skin seemed to tingle with desire, coming to life the moment he touched her.
“So you want me here?” he rasped against her lips and she shivered in response.
Bryar kissed him again. “There and...elsewhere.”
His hand slid down her face, moving firmly across her vulnerable throat, and her pulse beat wildly against the pad of his thumb. Down his hand went, gliding over her shoulder and lower to skim his fingers across her breast. Gentle and feather-light, unlike the last time he’d possessively gripped her and driven her to release, but the touch was just as erotic, had her shivering with anticipation. Lightly his thumb brushed her nipple, which hardened in response.
“And here?” He met her welcoming mouth again with his own and she moaned against his lips. He leaned in, completely trapping her against the counter, and her body yielded to mold to his. His cock was erect, thick and pressing into her, and all she could think about was feeling him inside her at last.
“Everywhere,” she whispered, arching her back and thrusting her breast more fully into his hand.
Sawyer growled and lifted her onto the counter so she was eye level with him. Her legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him close. The hardness pressing against her left her with no doubt about what he wanted right then—it was exactly what she did.
His hands moved up and down her back, trailing goose bumps along her spine, sliding under her shirt to touch her bare flesh. She wanted to feel him too, had to feel his hard body against her palms again, and worked his jacket off, then his T-shirt.
Everything about him was stunning, perhaps even more so in the light of the shop rather than the shadows of the woods from the other night. She could better explore him now, from the dusting of almost blond hair on his chest that pointed downward to his firm pecs to the cut muscle of the flat of his stomach. When her thumbs brushed over his nipples, he took in a sharp breath. She trailed her hand down, over the flat plane of his stomach, straight to his jeans and rubbed him through the denim.
“Goddamn,” he rasped and mouthed her throat, hands at her back pulling her more fully against him. “You don’t waste time, do you?”
She flushed hotly. “Is that okay?”
“More than okay.” He worked her shirt up and off her head, tossed it on the counter beside her, and swept his gaze over her breasts. And he really looked at her, not just like she was a quick piece of ass to be glanced at and forgotten but like he wanted to see her, to take in all of her and commit her body to memory. He loosened the straps of her bra from her shoulders, let it fall and take the cotton cups with them until her breasts were on full display, heavy and needy with want. His head dipped and he took one nipple into his mouth while he massaged the other.
Oh God, everything in her body felt like it was on fire—delicious, yearning fire that was ready to consume her completely. She rocked her pelvis, rubbing her pussy against his cock through his clothes, showing him precisely how wild he was driving her.
“I need you inside me this time,” she gasped.
His big hands moved to span her waist, squeeze her against him, and his mouth moved back to hers to kiss her hard. When she felt his fingers pop the top button of her slacks and ease the zipper down, her pussy clenched in want. Just like she remembered from the other night, he knew just how to touch her—the way he cupped her mound, slid his fingers into her damp heat, had her squirming and whimpering. She worked herself against his hand, her slippery folds taking his fingers easily.
“And with an incredible lack of forethought on my part, I didn’t bring anything,” he said with a frustrated sigh. Still he stroked her, worked his fingers in and out of her, until she was practically purring with need. “I can dart out to a corner store if one’s open...”
Bryar chuckled at the thought. “‘Sean Philip Sawyer buys condoms—details on page five.’”
“That would at least make page three,” he replied. He grasped the waistband of her jeans. “Lift.”
She braced her hands on the edge of the counter and lifted her hips at his command, waited there as he eased her slacks and panties off and let them drop to the floor. He gripped her ankles, raised them so her feet balanced on the countertop’s edge near her hands. His hands glided up her legs smoothly, ankle to calf, past her knees to her thighs, and he whispered in a low, hot voice. “Spread for me.”
Bryar shivered and let her knees drop to the sides, baring herself to him.
Sawyer drew in a deep breath, his fingers pushing into her again. Her head snapped back in a gasp, hips working to thrust with him. She was close but she wanted more.
“I want all of you,” she said with a moan. “Filling me up, fucking me hard.”
“Does the corner store deliver?”
Her head lolled to the side as he kissed down her throat, her hands running up and down his chest, nails raking his skin as climax built faster and faster. Then realization hit her. “Wait, wait, my purse.” She blinked up at him, grinning widely. “There might be something in my purse. Hopefully not expired.”
She didn’t have to tell him twice, he was already twisting around and scanning the room. He saw her bag hanging near the door before she could point it out and immediately closed the distance to it in just a few long strides.
Bryar shifted on the counter, knees still spread and breasts exposed, panting. She should feel embarrassed or awkward, maybe, but her focus was on Sawyer—the corded muscle along his back and arms when he moved, the jeans sitting low on his hips that she desperately wanted to divest him of.
He unzipped her purse, rifled through it with a frown.<
br />
“Inside pocket,” she directed and silently prayed she was right. She hadn’t had sex in a while but kept a couple of condoms in there anyway, just like Band-Aids and tampons. At this point, she might duck out to the store herself if there were none in there—she wanted him too badly, was even willing to temporarily put her clothes back on to see it done.
He raised a long narrow plastic case and raised a brow in question.
“EpiPen,” she explained. “I’m allergic to peanuts. So maybe don’t kiss me after eating peanut butter because the results aren’t sexy.”
“I will definitely remember that.” He tucked the pen back in and grinned suddenly, withdrawing a small foil package. The date must’ve been fine as he headed back to her immediately, drew her into his arms and kissed her hard like the brief moments apart seemed too long for him. She kept him close with her legs tangled about his hips and swiftly went for his jeans, jerking down the zipper and freeing him of his remaining clothing.
His cock rose between them, thick and marble hard. He hissed a breath between his teeth as she stroked his shaft.
Sawyer cracked open the condom packet. “Fuck, I need to be in you.”
“I’m very wet and ready for that.” She helped him slip it on and soon he was sheathed, poised at her opening. His hands gripped her hips, tilted her so she was at the perfect angle for him, and she leaned back and held onto the counter to watch.
The dome of his cock pushed through her folds, sliding smoothly and stretching her deliciously. They each let out a moan as she took him in, deeper and deeper until he was rooted entirely in her.
Bryar threw her head back, her curls dragging across her back. “Christ, you’re big. That feels so fucking good.”
He pulled out and thrust forward again. She squeezed the countertop as he rocked in and out of her. She could do nothing but yield to the onslaught, to take every firm stroke, and not let herself think about the fact that he was fucking her on the counter at work and she was a terrible employee.
His arm snaked around her back, pulled her close again so their chests were flush, and kissed her hard, tongue thrusting in time with his dick. She braced her feet, putting weight on them so she could lift her hips and fuck him back just as hard, causing him to groan and shudder with every stroke she met.