Four Letter Word

I was staring and I was doing it with my eyes wide and my mouth dropped open.

Whoa.

Stitch had an extremely sexy voice hiding behind that beard.

Nice.

“Uh,” I stammered, then stated as if it was obvious, “You could’ve hung out with Shay.”

He shook his head and looked down at the prep station.

“Got no business doin’ that either,” he muttered. “Girl like that with that kinda light …” His voice trailed off, then he lifted his eyes, tensed his jaw, and said curtly, “Not talkin’ about this.”

My brows shot up.

I absolutely wanted to keep talking about this. What Stitch was saying was incredibly interesting and something I would definitely share with Shay.

He thought she had light. He also thought he wasn’t good enough to touch that light. I was hearing that loud and clear.

Shay was right. Stitch was sweet.

I wanted to jump through that window and hug the crap out of him.

But before I could do that or urge him into further conversation, he reached out and slammed his hand down on the steel, swiped the ticket, read the order quickly, then tacked it up along with the others before he turned around and supervised the sauce pan.

“Not much I can do with the clams,” he informed, facing away. “Droppin’ them on the floor ain’t gonna do what you’re lookin’ for it to do.”

I nodded at his back, deciding to be generous and letting Jamie off easy today. Mainly because Stitch seemed in the mood to get creative if I asked and I was scared to think what he’d come up with while standing back there alone and pining over Shay.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” I told him, rocking back onto my feet. “But if it’s not too much trouble, could you make those Southern stuffed shrimp extra yummy for my boy? He’s here.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, his arm moving as he stirred.

“With lots of love,” I added. “Not that I’m telling you how to cook, but maybe slip in an extra hush puppy?”

Stitch shook his head through a noisy exhale.

“Jesus Christ, I need a new fuckin’ job.”

I left that remark alone and stepped in front of the coffeemaker, grabbing a mug for Brian.

As long as Shay worked at Whitecaps, I had a feeling Stitch wasn’t going anywhere.

* * *

I was running my tongue along the underside of Brian’s cock as I knelt between his knees on the floor of his living room in front of the couch.

He’d dropped calling me “nut” so I was making good on my promise to suck him off, starting on that as soon as I got to his place after my shift ended.

I was moaning and taking him deep while fighting off the urge to press my fingers between my legs, knowing the second I did that I’d go off, enjoying the feel of his long, thick cock in my mouth so much that I was getting there without even trying. And Brian was fisting my hair and thrusting his hips, saying some of the hottest stuff to me as I worked him.

“Wild,” he groaned.

“Fuck,” he snarled.

“Jesus, babe. Never been sucked this good,” he confessed.

Hot.

We had the house to ourselves for the rest of the night because Jamie went to look at some bike he was interested in buying two hours away, an investment Brian found hilarious for some reason he hadn’t shared with me yet, which led to the fooling around on the couch instead of in the privacy of Brian’s bedroom.

I loved it. I wanted to be out in the open with Brian everywhere.

Let everyone see our crazy.

Rising up on my knees, I swallowed him until my lips touched the top of my hand squeezing his base, then I started sucking and jerking in slow, wet strokes, twisting my wrist and keeping pressure.

“Shit,” Brian muttered as his legs tensed. “Wild, get up here.”

“Un-mm.”

I shook my head a little and kept sucking and jerking as my other hand cupped his balls.

“Syd,” he growled.

Concentrating on the head, I swirled my tongue and flicked it as my hand pumped firmer and faster.

I wanted him to come. I wanted to taste Brian and I knew he was close, but before I could push him over the edge, hands gripped with impatience under my arms, lifting me off and then up until I was on my feet, standing in front of Brian and gripping his shoulders for stability as he tore savagely at my uniform shorts. He peeled them down my legs along with my panties, tossed them on the floor, then gripped the back of my thighs, took my weight, and somehow spread my legs and lowered me at the same time until I slid down onto his cock in one perfect, fluid, oh, my God, how am I this wet motion.

“Brian,” I gasped as he stretched me.

His hand slapped my ass and I yelped, lurching forward until our bellies and chests were touching and I could feel the rapid pounding of his heart against mine.

“Ride me ’til I come,” he ordered with fire in his eyes.

“I wanted you to come in my mouth,” I shared, leaning back and settling in his lap.

“I was getting that.” His lip twitched, then he held my hips and started shifting them, urging me to move with his hands and pressing me, “Come on, babe. Fuck me. Let me see what my girl can do.”

My skin tingled.

His girl.

No way was I saying no to that.

I started taking over, grinding down and forward while my hands gripped the back of the couch, going from slow to fast to slow again, then circling my hips instead of rocking them, pulling deeper, dirtier noises out of Brian.