Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
He smacked my ass hard enough to leave a handprint. “Stroke yourself. We’re on the clock. Let’s see if you can come this way.”
Uh, the answer was a resounding yes. However, for the sake of experimentation, I flattened my left palm on the cool tile and jerked off while he reduced me to a puddle of goo. He bit my ass cheek and slowly stood behind me, kissing my shoulder as he slipped a single digit between my crease. He teased my hole and nibbled my ear, whispering nasty words of encouragement of the “Let me see you jack that cock for me” variety. I was already near the edge when he pushed a finger inside me and ground his dick on my ass.
“Fuck, I’m gonna—”
“Yeah, that’s it. Come.”
I came hard, shooting over the tile as my entire body shook. Seconds later, I felt his warm release on my lower back.
Vinnie wrapped his arms around me, nestling his scruffy chin on my jaw. He peppered kisses along my neck, then nudged my hip till I faced him. Our tongues twisted in leisurely satisfaction, deep and carnal with no sense of time.
The niggling feeling that we were supposed to be somewhere surfaced after a minute or so. I broke free with a gasp and motioned for him to turn on the water.
“We have to go soon,” I hummed against his lips.
He stole another soul-stirring kiss. “Let’s call in sick.”
“We can’t do that,” I panted.
Vinnie sighed as he reached for the faucet knob, yelping under the sudden cold spray. I laughed, so of course he splashed water at me. I couldn’t let that go, so I retaliated and started a mini splash battle in between madly soaping up and rinsing off.
By the time we’d finally dressed and raced to his Jeep, we had five minutes to get to practice. And you know, any other time, I would have been stressed out of my mind. I hated being late. Not today.
He held out his hand as he navigated his long driveway, smiling when I laced our fingers. We probably talked or maybe listened to music, but I couldn’t concentrate on words or sound. My head was in the clouds, and my heart did funny somersaults. I wished I could stop time and make the road longer. I wished we could drive without a real destination.
Just two old friends who’d made their way back to each other and discovered something more.
Elmwood Diner was the pride of the Moore family and had been a town institution for over a hundred years. No kidding. We’d been here much longer than that, though. The Moores first settled in our little corner of Vermont sometime in the late eighteenth century. My ancestors were farmers turned innkeepers who eventually decided to open a dining hall adjacent to their property when the demand for roadside eateries grew.
That diner was lost in a fire in the early 1930s and was immediately rebuilt at its current location on Main Street and Blossom. And yes, it was still owned and operated by the Moore family—specifically, me.
Let me first preface this by stating this had never been my dream job. No way, no how.
I’d had high hopes of making it big in set design in Hollywood after I graduated from UCLA. For a few years, it had looked like things were finally going my way. I’d met an amazing group of friends in college, started my own business, and had done very well freelancing for a few major studios. I’d been one payday away from purchasing a condo when my dad died unexpectedly and my world crumbled.
The grief was all-consuming and left wreckage none of us were prepared for. My quick visit became a temporary move to help my mom out at the diner. I assumed, after a month or two, that Ronnie and Mom would take over, but Ronnie had been busy at the rink and needed help with Mary-Kate. And Mom struggled with severe depression in the wake of Dad’s death.
I’d pushed my return to California back three times before acknowledging I was stuck in Elmwood. I’d told my friends it was just a matter of time till I returned, but here I was…
And you know, it wasn’t so terrible now.
Look at this place.
Elmwood Diner was a freaking gem. I’d kept the log cabin exterior when I remodeled the restaurant a couple of years ago, but I’d made sure to open the ceiling and add a wide bank of windows. I stuck with classic touches like emerald-green leather booths, a long counter with swivel barstools, and black-and-white tiled flooring, but the ambience was definitely modern. Sophisticated pendants lit the refinished bar area while modern starburst chandeliers hung from the rafters in the dining room.
The real draw was always the food. We served burgers, fries, and shakes using the same recipes my great-great grandparents had perfected years ago, but JC had added a few culinary masterpieces to the mix, and the new menu was a hit.