by Lane Hart
“I don’t kayak, and I watch you take your birth control every day,” Sam replies.
“Okay, so where are we going?” I ask when he turns off the cart and we both step off and onto the sidewalk.
“Here,” he says. Pulling out a set of keys, he unlocks the door to one of the storefronts. What’s he doing with a key to a business?
The door unlocks, and then he holds it open for me to go in first.
“It’s…empty,” I say as I glance around the dark open interior.
“For now,” Sam says, then flips on the overhead lights. “But soon it’s going to be a restaurant. Your restaurant.”
“What?” I ask with a chuckle as I spin around to face him, assuming he’s joking. “Did you say my restaurant?”
Rather than meet my gaze, he eyes the walls as if there’s more to them than the plain white paint. “It will take a lot of work. You’ll need to install a kitchen, maybe put up a divider wall to separate it from the dining area. But there’s room for several tables and booths around the outer wall. You could offer takeout too.”
“You’re serious?” I ask. “This isn’t some kind of mean joke where you say it’s mine and then laugh and tell me you’re kidding.”
“I’m serious,” he says, coming over and offering me the keys dangling from the keyring. “It’s yours.”
My jaw drops comically as his words sink in. In fact, I see a smile spread across Sam’s face for the first time before he reaches up and lifts my chin with his knuckle.
“Did you want it or not?” he asks, holding the keys up right in front of my face.
I snatch them out of his hand. “Hell yes, I want it!”
“Then it’s yours,” he replies. He shoves his now empty hands into his pants pocket casually as if he didn’t just hand me my dream come true.
For a second, I think my heart is going to explode out of my chest in happy excitement. Before I die of heart failure, I launch myself at the man in front of me, winding my arms around his neck and pressing my face to his chest to hug him. “Thank you,” I whisper as tears flood my eyes and race down my cheeks.
Sam clears his throat, and then his arms are wrapping around my waist to hold me to him. “It was the feds, not me.”
“Ha! You are so full of shit!” I exclaim as I lift my head and go up on my toes to press my lips to his, kissing him for the first time. At first, I’m not sure if he’ll even kiss me back since he’s never initiated it before. I’m relieved when his lips part first, proving me wrong. I’m expecting him to shove his tongue into my mouth just as ferociously as he fucks me. But instead his tongue is gentle, coaxing, and…sweet as it asks to sweep into my mouth.
While I love the gentleness, it immediately sends up a red flag.
He bought me a building, or at least made it happen, and now he’s kissing me softly? Something doesn’t add up. In fact, his kiss sort of feels like a goodbye, which is why I pull away to study his face.
“You’re leaving,” I say as I watch his hooded eyes.
He gives an almost imperceptible nod. “I’ve already stayed longer than I should have.” He reaches up and brushes away the moisture on either side of my cheeks with his thumb. At first, they were tears of happiness. Now they’re tears of sadness. “You’ll be safe here.”
“I know that,” I huff. “It’s just…no one has ever been as nice to me as you have been.”
“I was just doing my job,” Sam says with his clenched jaw ticking. “That’s all.”
“That’s not true,” I reply softly, running my fingers from the back of his neck down his scruffy jawline. “I know you went above and beyond what was required of you to help me. And you stayed because you liked being with me. I can’t speak for you, but I’ve never had this kind of closeness with anyone before or wanted a man as much as I want you.” I rub my thumb over his swollen lip. “Sex between us, it’s not just great, it’s like a necessity. You’ve made me feel safe and happy. Thank you for that. Thank you for being so good to me. I’ll never forget you. Maybe I’ll name my restaurant after you…”
One second we’re standing in the middle of the empty room and the next, my back is hitting the wall so hard the breath is knocked out of me, reminding me of the last time Sam was about to leave. Except…he didn’t leave after that move, did he?
His mouth crashes down on mine, this time giving me the fierce kiss I wanted before, shoving his tongue into my mouth and grinding his body into mine that’s pinned to the wall. When he pulls back, he growls, “You’re not naming this place after me.”
“Yes, I am,” I say between pants, looking up into his dark, heated eyes that are full of need and promising dirty sex. “You won’t be here to stop me, will you?”
His mouth attacks mine again like he loves kissing me, despite two weeks of avoiding it, while ramming his erection into my belly.
As I expected, it doesn’t take long before Sam is reaching under my dress with both hands, gripping my still sore ass and tugging my panties down to my knees where they fall the rest of the way to my shoes on their own.
When he unzips his pants, releasing his hard cock, I get an idea.
Before I can blink, he’s hefting me up by my thighs, lining his hardness up with my entrance like he hasn’t been inside me in years instead of minutes.
Pressing my hands to his chest, I put the brakes on things, whispering “Stop” against his bruising lips.
“Stop?” he exclaims as he pulls back to look at my face.
“Stop,” I repeat. “If you want me, then I want the same deal as before.”
His brow furrows in thought, and it takes longer for realization to light up his eyes than it normally should. That’s probably because it’s not easy to think through the haze of lust. Believe me, I know from experience.
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t get to fuck me unless you’re staying,” I explain to him.
Chapter Twenty
Silas
* * *
“Come on, baby,” I say, hissing as I lower her body down on my cock just one little incredible inch to feel her wetness. The way her tight pussy surrounds me is heaven. “One last time. You’re so fucking wet. I promise I’ll make it good for you,” I assure Cora as I lean back down to brush my lips over her damp ones.
For two weeks, I resisted doing anything but fucking her mouth because I knew kissing her would drive me fucking crazy and make me do insane shit, like pound into her while watching her beautiful face, kissing her adorable freckles as I lose myself inside of her.
“No.” Her one-word answer is not the one I wanted. And yeah, I’m in control here. I could slam her down on my cock any moment I want. The old Silas would already be fucking her. But now? My entire body is frozen, waiting for her to say yes even though I know she wants me as much as I want her.
Cora throws her head back against the wall and shakes it as if she thinks I need a visual representation of the word “no.”
My hands on her thighs shake, but not from exertion. She weighs nothing. I could hold her up all day long. But the warmth of her pussy is calling to my cock, making me weak.
No, I need to fucking go home already!
And yet, in this moment, when I think of home, it’s staying right the fuck here.
“Please, baby,” I beg through gritted teeth as beads of sweat fall from my forehead and a few others slide down my spine. I never fucking beg for sex! That’s the whole point of making it a simple transaction. Usually I just pay, and I get sex whenever and however I want. Easy as fucking pie.
And goddamn it, now I’m thinking about Cora’s homemade pie.
“Put me down, Sam,” she orders me, her hands clutching my shoulders tighter, making my eyes clench in disappointment. When she squirms, trying to get down, it only makes her pussy rub against my cock, drenching it in her juices. She’s wet and wants me, but fuck, if she’s not going to hold out until I cave.
And in the big scheme of things, what’s one more nigh
t…
“I’ll stay until tomorrow,” I blurt out. I open my eyes and watch her face as she considers it for a moment before shaking her head.
Fuck.
“No. One more night won’t suffice,” Cora says as she licks her lip like the temptress she is, knowing exactly what I was thinking. “I want longer.”
“How much longer?” I grit out.
Her head turns, looking around at the empty building. “Until the restaurant opens.”
“What the fuck? That’ll take weeks!” I exclaim.
Then she does something so evil, I start to think I’ve been a bad influence on her. She’s just playing downright dirty now as she arches her back and rolls her hips to tease my cock, easing herself down on me, and even adding an exaggerated moan as extra incentive for me to give in.
How long could it take to order an oven and some tables? With the kind of cash I’ve got laying around, I could probably make it happen in a week’s time.
“Deal,” I agree. “I’ll…stay until the restaurant opens.”
Cora grins in triumph, and then she grabs the back of my neck and pulls my mouth down to hers, kissing me like she did when she first found out this place was hers.
And when I slide inside of her paradise, there’s so much relief it physically and spiritually hurts.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cora
* * *
For the past few weeks, when Sam and I aren’t going at it in bed, we’ve been busy ordering appliances and furniture for my restaurant.
My restaurant!
That notion still hasn’t fully sunk in yet. It all just seems too good to be true. Especially since Sam won’t even let me touch the enormous amount of cash in my federally opened bank account. No, he’s been paying for everything. Or our taxpayer dollars have been hard at work; I’m not sure which. I still find it hard to believe that his bosses would approve such extravagant purchases.
“You’ve got to pick a name, and soon,” Sam says with his hands braced on his hips, sweaty and looking incredibly hot in his jeans and ribbed tank after putting together the tables and chairs that came this morning. “We’ve got to order a sign and menus.”
“I know,” I agree, taking a seat at one of the newly built wooden chairs. “I still like Sam’s Diner.”
“No.” His gruff one-word response is an attempt to drop the idea once and for all. Swiping his hand over his face, he says, “Cora’s Café. That’s what you have to name it.”
“I guess that’s pretty catchy,” I admit. “But you’re forgetting one little problem.”
“Oh yeah?” he asks, forehead creased in confusion.
“I’m not Cora here. I’m Anita.”
“Oh, right,” he says, blowing out a breath. “You could tell people you named it after someone you know. Or just act like you’re only managing the place and not the owner.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Think fast,” he mutters. “It’ll probably take another week to get the sign up and menus printed.”
He acts like he’s grouchy about having to take more vacation time, but the truth is, I know he likes being here with me. If he didn’t, he would’ve left already. There’s nothing actually keeping him here. Sure, he promised to stay until we open, but I’m certain he thought it would take less time than it has.
And it’s not like he isn’t getting rewarded for staying. In fact, since last week, I’ve been able to convince him to sleep in my bed with me all night. He probably caved just because he’s been working his ass off during the day, and after an energetic round of sex, he was simply too tired to get up and walk down the hall to the guest bedroom. Not that I’m complaining. Waking up most mornings with his tongue between my legs has me getting up quicker than a gallon of coffee.
But maybe I am dragging my feet just a little on picking a name because I don’t want Sam to leave.
Our relationship may have been mostly, if not entirely, physical at first, but now it’s more. It feels like we’re a team. For the first time in my life, I’m not being used or manipulated by a man. Sam is a good guy who has done so much for me that it makes my heart swell to nearly bursting. I’m so grateful to him that I don’t think I will ever be able to pay him back. At the same time, I’m also dreading the day when he leaves. I know he’s going to. It’s not a secret. He has a job and a life that he has to get back to eventually. That doesn’t mean that I’m not holding out hope that the two of us could make a long-distance relationship work.
“I’m beat,” Sam says when he comes over and flattens his palms on the table he just built in front of me. “You ready to go home?”
Home. The way he says it makes me think that he actually considers it his home too.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Thanks for all the hard work today.”
“You’re welcome.” He leans forward to brush his lips over mine once before straightening. It’s a chaste kiss, more like a habit than the kind that’s intended to lead to sex.
When I stand up to follow him out the door, he says, “I’m giving you one hour to pick a name and order a sign or else I’m naming this place ‘Heart Attack Café.’ Oh, and we’re sleeping in tomorrow morning.”
“Fine, I wouldn’t mind sleeping in either.”
“The name?” he prods.
“Yes, I’ll pick a name tonight!” I agree, reaching up to grab his muscular shoulders and working my fingers into the stiffness. “And I’ll rub your back before I cook you dinner.”
“You’re spoiling me,” he says with a chuckle, something else he’s been doing more of lately, along with smiling.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Silas
* * *
The peaceful afterglow from an amazing afternoon fuck is, unfortunately, interrupted by the doorbell.
“Who in the world could that be?” Cora asks with a giggle as she lays on her stomach, arms under her head, still high on her own endorphins from multiple orgasms. Before, when we first got here, she was so on edge that an unexpected visitor would send her hiding in a closet. Now, she no longer worries about that shit.
“No clue. I’ll go see,” I say, reluctantly rolling out of bed. By the time I’ve pulled on some pants, the person has made it ring two more times.
“Hurry back!” Cora replies as I start to leave the room, flashing me a grin as she rolls to her back, putting her tits and pussy on full display in invitation. “I want you again before we have to go meet the sign guys.”
The other night, she finally decided on a name for the diner, Southern Comfort Café, so the final pieces are coming together. In fact, if everything goes as planned, we’re having the grand opening on Saturday.
“Give me two seconds to get rid of whoever is trying to sell us some shit. When I come back, you’re gonna work that sexy mouth on my dick to show me how badly you want it again.”
“Deal,” she easily agrees while wetting her lips, making me almost say to hell with whoever is at the door. But I can hear them knocking now, banging their fists on the damn thing. Whoever the fuck it is, they’re not giving up.
“Yeah, yeah! I’m coming,” I say, adjusting my lengthening dick in my pants before zipping them up.
I put my eye to the peephole to see who is on the other side before I even think about unlocking the deadbolt.
“Oh fuck!”
My shout is loud, causing Cora to call out from the bedroom. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah!” I holler back. “Stay there, I’ve got it!”
As soon as I open the door, I slip outside and pull it shut behind me to face the firing squad, aka Malcolm.
“How did you know I was here?” I ask him in surprise.
“Hell-fuckin-lo to you too,” he says while stroking his beard as he looks me up and down, studying my lack of shirt like a school principal about to discipline a student. “Did I interrupt something?”
“You didn’t answer my question,” I remark, crossing my arms over my bare chest.
&
nbsp; “Lucy found you. We were worried when you wouldn’t answer our calls for fucking weeks, so I had her work her computer magic to track you down. Gotta say, staying so close to town was an odd choice for her relocation. You really own this fucking place now?” he asks with a chin nod toward the house.
“Yeah, I do,” I admit.
“How the fuck can you afford to buy her something like this? I know how much money you make with the MC, and it would barely pay a week’s rent in a studio apartment out here.”
“It’s a long story,” I tell him.
“Give me the short version,” he demands.
“Fine, if you must know, I inherited a lot of money.”
“Inherited?” Malcolm repeats slowly.
“Yeah, someone died and left me a ton of cash. So, what’s up?”
“What’s up? You fucking know what’s up,” he scoffs. “Is she inside?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Nash’s case was dismissed a few weeks ago. As long as she doesn’t show up back in town and no one recognizes her here, he’s a free man.”
“Good, that’s good,” I reply while reaching up to rub the back of my burning neck. This shit, Malcolm showing up out of the blue, is awkward as hell and makes me feel like a teenager getting caught by his father screwing a girl in his bedroom. I really am happy for Nash, though, despite the boulder now pressing down on my guts.
“Time to come home,” Malcolm says, spelling it out for me when I take as long as Fiasco’s slow ass to figure out that’s why he’s here.
“Right. Yeah, I guess so...”
“Now, Silas! Get your shit and let’s go. You played your part and apparently decided to improv several others we didn’t ask or need you to do. Time to leave her alone.”
The idea of walking away from Cora right this fucking second feels like a boa constrictor wrapped around my neck, squeezing the life out of me.