Thomas obliged by drifting his hand to my clit and began thumbing it in slow languid circles. “Faster,” I demanded.
My hips moved weakly but it was all the force I could muster. I leaned over Thomas, took his lips to mine and parted them with my tongue. I needed to taste him, to feel all of him against me.
Somewhere in the mix both of our shirts came off and I felt my stiffened peaks grind against the hardness of his chest. He cupped one breast, then the other, alternating his attention to each nipple as he gently tugged and squeezed them between thumb and forefinger just how I liked.
I wanted it to last all night.
But it had been so long and I wanted him so badly that all too soon I felt the precipice of the edge approach. That deliriously pleasurable cliff that would plunge me into quivering ecstasy.
I wasn’t the only one. His tongue swirled around mine, his growling pleasure mingled with my moans. And I felt the way his hips thrust deep into me with increasing desperation.
I broke the kiss and looked deeply into his eyes. We were both panting with the effort of keeping the pace. “Come for me, Thomas. I need it.” The words were out of my lips before I realized I even said them.
I don’t know if I ever said truer words.
Everything seized up. It was like being struck by lightning. My body went rigid with pleasure as the orgasm ripped through me and flooded every cell of my body with intoxicating gratification.
I was only dimly aware of him moaning my name, lost amid the roar of blood in my ears and the heavy beating of my heart. I felt the warm splash of him inside me, the electric sensation sent another wave of pleasure rippling through me like a stone tossed into a recently stilled pond.
I leaned into him and wrapped my arms around him with all my feeble strength. I clung to him as he pumped me full, pressing down with my hips as far as I could go.
We sat there, clinging to each other for dear life, panting like we’d both run a marathon. Thomas’ fingers dug into the curves of my hips, holding me down and my arms wrapped tight against his neck. Our bodies pressed together.
“That…was incredible,” he said into my ear, nibbling it and sending another spike of pleasure through me.
I let out a low gusty breath. “I missed this.”
His arms squeezed around me and then I felt him rooting around on the couch with one arm, probably looking for the blanket. We were wrapped up against the chill on our bare skin a moment later.
I silently congratulated myself for seducing him properly this time, keenly aware that if he hadn’t done most of the work there was no way I would have been able to crawl atop him.
“I am so lucky to have you,” he husked and for the first time, I could hear the deep fatigue in his voice. He had been running around for the last week and a half doing the work of two people.
I loved that man so much it hurt.
“Are you kidding? I’m the lucky one. Who else could say their man is able to do the work of both partners when they get sick? At best it’s doing a few extra chores but Thomas, you’ve been going to meetings and delivering presentations. When Sunrise Valley is saved, this will be largely due to your efforts.”
He needed to know how important what he was doing was. I would not sit idly by and let him downplay his efforts.
“All I’ve been doing is reading your notes and trying to make the most sense of them. Which reminds me, when you’re feeling better there’s a whole binder full of plans and proposals I wanted to run by you.”
I squeezed Thomas to me and may have inadvertently squeezed something else because he let out a yelp of surprise and I immediately felt him thicken inside me again, waking up the burning coals of desire nestled deep within my belly.
I pulled back, gave him a look that he returned with his own smoldering gaze. “Ready for round two?” I asked.
His wolfish grin and throbbing cock was all the answer I needed.
17
Thomas
Things returned to normal pretty quickly after Claire recovered from the flu. I don’t know if it was because of my fitness or the constant interaction with other people that made me less susceptible but whatever the case, as we rolled into early November I didn’t get sick.
Which was a good thing because I could not afford to be out. I had a new apprentice baker I was training up, and five new employees at the bakery covering all shifts and working under Sam.
Who had filled the role given to her admirably.
I had always been a firm believer that the best way to help a person is to give them responsibility. Rather than a handout, it helped to lift a person out of a bad situation and in my experience most people wanted to be worthy of the role given.
Not that I had done that for Sam, necessarily. She was effectively filling the role already. I merely made it official.
The lines at A Game of Scones were down to a quarter of what they used to be. Pastries and donuts and bread were flying off the shelves faster than any single human could supply.
That’s when I ended up turning to Gavin. He was one of five baker apprentices I had interviewed last week and the only one who seemed to have a real passion for it.
He also happened to have the least skill.
However, of all the applicants he was the only one who never stopped. He didn’t let a difficult challenge stand in his way and he was willing to learn. It was amazing what a desire to learn can accomplish.
I should know, that was me several years ago.
Gavin was somebody I could mold into a proper baker, teach him the techniques and instruct him on proper recipes. Most of what I did - most of what anybody did, really - could be taught.
I wish most of the world thought of it that way. I didn’t need a four-year degree to be a baker. I didn’t even need a certificate. What I needed - and what I hoped I was giving Gavin - was a mentor who would teach me and give me a chance.
Gavin did not disappoint. He was there waiting for me every morning already hard at work on something I had given him as a sort of homework.
Today was beignets. Delicious fluffy pillows of fried dough dusted in powdered sugar. I had started selling them once I got my hands on a commercial fryer and made good on my promise to start selling more iconic fried foods.
“Morning Gav, how’s it coming?” I asked as I walked through the door and tied the black apron around my back. I was still a little sore from all of Claire’s attention this morning.
I don’t know what had come over her but I couldn’t deny that I loved it. She practically attacked me on a daily basis for sex that typically went a couple rounds.
Needless to say, I was a little worn out that morning.
“Goin’ good bossman!” Gavin turned towards me, completely covered head-to-toe in flour and a bright smile.
That was one thing he was good for, a bright cheery greeting. His messy mop of blonde hair was similarly dusted in white.
I patted him on the back and peered over at the completed trays he had covered with a damp tea towel and inspected his work.
Unsurprisingly, they were pretty well-formed. It was a pain in the ass to get the squared pillow shape just right. I had taught him a trick to it but it still took him a while to get it.
Once Gavin learned something, he committed it to memory. I’d seen a lot of skilled chefs screw up basic dishes.
Gavin would not be one of them. He may take a little longer than most to learn a recipe but once he did I knew I could trust him to give a repeat performance again and again.
Consistency was deeply undervalued in the culinary world when compared to flash. I never understood why.
“These look awesome, man. Good job.” He took the praise with a nod of his head and went back to rolling and kneading out the dough.
It was mostly simple things like fried dough, elephant ears, funnel cake, beignets, and donuts. Things that while simple, were very easy to mess up. Not to mention time-consuming.
In less than a week of intensive stud
y, Gavin was able to do most of the fried food lineup we had which freed me up to take care of more difficult items. Not to mention, the fried foods were just about flying off the shelf this fall, due in no small part to the apple-cider and pumpkin-spiced varieties we made.
With Sam, an apprentice, and the clerks coming in each day the bakery was far livelier than I had ever expected it to be. The lines were down dramatically and once word got out that the wait was less, the lines once more got longer.
Ironic, I know. We were still doing brisk business, half-hour waits were the maximum instead of the low. During the lunch rush when we were at our busiest, Sam had begun scheduling two clerks to work under her at the same time.
They’d go down the line getting orders on tablets I didn’t remember buying and sending that up to the clerk at the register so that when the person got to the register all they had to do was pay.
With the addition of coffee being sold lately, A Game of Scones had a lineup of people waiting to buy our goods from open to close. Even that extra hour or two at the end of the day was filled with people looking for a sugary fix.
I had originally gotten into baking because of bread but it ended up being one of the slower sellers. Not at all dead but compared to the pastries, muffins, scones, colorful macarons, and fried dough they were a fraction of the total sales.
I could hardly complain about it though. Even with the added staff, we were making more money every day than I ever dreamed of. Coupled with the optimistic outlook on our plan to revitalize Sunrise Valley as a whole, I was feeling damn good lately.
So naturally, Beth Ingvar would ruin it.
It happened later that day. Sam came into the back around four in the afternoon. “Thomas, there’s something you need to see.”
Confused, and thinking this was some sort of prank I dusted my hands and pointed at Gavin. “Keep working on those twists, three turns and no more. Try to keep the braid tight as you do it without letting the whole thing sag. Quick, tugging and twisting motions.”
Gavin nodded and went back to his work making braided donuts. They were trickier than anything else I’d given him to work on yet but he was approaching it with the same zest for life as he did everything else.
His enthusiasm was infectious.
When I came out to the front I saw the line of people but also heard the noise I had been insulated from in the back. Somebody was using a megaphone and shouting something.
Out in the street, I saw Beth in all her shoulder-pad business suit glory holding a megaphone to her ruby lips.
“Sunrise Valley belongs to the people who live here! Say no to foreign investors! No to stripping our town of its unique culture! We don’t want out-of-towners here, you are not welcome!”
Several of the people in line were clearly uncomfortable with that. I stared at Beth who gave me a wicked grin and continued her mantra, decrying the influx of people driving local prices sky high and blaming me and the shop for all the town’s troubles.
“What the hell are you going on about?” I asked.
“You know damn well what you’ve done to this town Thomas Weller,” she accused, stabbing a finger my way. She just about blew out my eardrums from using the megaphone on me up close. “For shame! A son of Sunrise Valley corrupting our youth and bringing in outsiders to ruin our precious economy. You’re the reason people are losing their homes!”
My head spun. I felt like I was gut-punched and couldn’t breathe. Everything was slightly rocking like I was on a boat. Sam was there bracing me up. “The fuck is she babbling about?”
My phone was out in a flash. “Yes, Sherriff’s station? I’d like to lodge a complaint. There’s a woman here harassing the guests outside my shop.”
Sam and I waited out there as if we could somehow protect the customers in line. Many of which were clearly having second thoughts. This is precisely the thing that I didn’t need right now.
Beth continued to chant and shout with the megaphone but thankfully pointed it away from me. I got the impression that she didn’t really understand how to work the damn thing. More than once she tried talking to one of the people she roped into protesting with her using the megaphone.
It was awkward.
The Sherriff rolled up in a brand new cruiser, looked like a new model Camaro. Not the sort of car I would have expected a small-town Sherriff to have for official business.
Sunrise Valley was so small there was only one Sherriff and two or three deputies at any one time. The worst crime we ever had was vandalism.
The Sherriff was an older man with one of those painfully iconic thick graying mustaches on his upper lip and a habit of placing his hands on his hips in a commanding pose that was ruined by his rather large belly straining against the tan uniform.
His Sherriff’s star was polished to a blinding gleam. He sauntered over and assumed the position. “You Thomas Weller?”
I extended my hand cordially. “Yes, sir.”
The Sherriff looked at it but made no move to shake it. I dropped it. He chewed on something in his mouth a moment before speaking. “What’s the problem here?”
I motioned to Beth who had about half a dozen people with crudely painted signs. Looked like the whole thing was whipped up in a flash. More than one sign spelled my name wrong.
“She’s been out here for a while harassing my customers with that megaphone, telling them they aren’t wanted in town. Which is ridiculous, they’re helping to revitalize the town. Several businesses are doing better since more people started visiting despite the…” I motioned vaguely at the shuttered stores.
The Sherriff turned to look at Beth, then the stores behind her, then back to me. “Mhm. I see. Excuse me.” He turned abruptly and walked over to Beth, who lowered the megaphone and seemed pleased to see him.
She gave him a hug and the entire stance of the Sherriff changed. He was jovial and smiling, even took off his reflective aviator glasses and stuck them in a pocket.
Fuck me, this is not good.
The Sherriff finished up, gave Beth one last hug and then sauntered over to me. On the way, he put back the sunglasses and his whole demeanor changed to cold and standoffish again.
I’d seen enough movies to know where this was going. I just never thought it would happen to me, not in Sunrise Valley. I loved this town. It was my home. I felt like it was stabbing me in the back.
“Sir, she is on government property - the road - and has a permit to protest. Do you hate free speech, Mister Weller?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “No, sir. I hate that somebody is scaring off my guests and telling them they aren’t welcome here. I thought Sunrise Valley was better than that.”
“Boy, you best check that attitude of yours. I have been Sherriff in these parts for the last thirty-odd years. I remember your daddy and the family he raised. The apple doesn’t far too fall from the tree, son.”
I squinted at him. “I think you mean, ‘the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree’ sir.”
“S’what I meant,” he slurred, burped under his breath and straightened up again. The reek of alcohol hit me and burned my nose from where I stood, several feet away. “You leave this good woman alone and let her have her free speech. This is America, boy. You take your keister and mosey on back inside now.”
When I stood my ground the Sherriff took a few steps closer. “Did you hear what I said, boy? Go.”
“This is my property,” I said stubbornly. “She may be on the road and that may be government property but this is private. I own this patch of land. I will not be told what to do on it. Not by you, and not by anybody else. So, I will stand where and when I choose out on my patch of land, and thanks for nothing.” I jerked my head towards Beth.
The Sherriff let out a low whistle. “Boy you got a mouth on you all right. Just like your daddy. You beat your girl like him too? I bet she’d protect you just like your momma. Swear up and down it was the stairs she fell down, in a single-story home.”
&
nbsp; My vision streaked with red veins and my fists balled up on their own accord. I felt Sam grab my arm and tug me back before I realized what I was about to do. The rage leaped out like some animal suddenly freed of its cage and rattled around in my chest.
The Sherriff looked expectant, I couldn’t see his eyes but the crinkle at the edges of his lips showed the smile that started to spread on his face. “Be seeing you around, Mister Weller. I hope all your building permits are up to code. I sure would hate to have to close such a fine establishment.”
He sauntered away, the rage still boiling inside my chest.
“Come on, let’s go back inside. There’s nothing we can do here.” Sam’s voice, calming and gentle. She guided me inside and into the back.
Everything in me was bent towards bottling that anger the Sherriff had unleashed back up again. The horrible things he said clinked around like loose change in my head.
“Go home,” said Sam. “Go to Claire.”
I got more than a few strange looks, my face must have looked murderous. Even Gavin’s typically incandescent attitude wilted when he looked at me.
Without another word I tramped out the back and up the stairs. I paused at the door, waiting, trying to calm down.
Claire was only just now starting to feel better. I couldn’t bring this back to her. What I needed was to get it out. To run or lift some weights but that meant I’d need to go back inside anyway and see her.
Before I could choose what to do, the door opened and Claire’s small frame latched onto me, dragging me inside with surprising strength. “Are you going to stand out here all day? Come in here you big idiot!”
18
Claire
It took Thomas a while to calm down. A little making out, some tea, and some cuddling on the couch definitely helped it along.
“Sam called and told me everything, so when you didn’t immediately come up I knew something was wrong.” It wasn’t rocket science. Thomas had a habit of shutting down and closing up whenever he was hurting or upset.
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