Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
My fingers fumble to unbutton and unzip his jeans, and when our pants are over our hips, our cocks exposed, Jack finally, finally, sinks against me. I can’t help sighing in satisfaction.
We’re shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, our heartbeats pounding in rhythm. I moan into his neck as his stiff cock slides alongside mine. The first feel of our lengths slotting together is pure heaven. Mix that with Jack kissing me, and it feels incredible, but also like it’s not quite enough. Especially since it might be the last time.
“Please,” I beg as his large palm winds around both our cocks, and he studies me. I don’t have time to focus on the softness I see in his gaze because his hand provides a sweet friction against my aching cock. I stretch upward to suck on his throat as we rut and he pumps, creating a rhythm that makes my eyes cross.
My pulse thunders in my ears as my spine tingles with that familiar ache of my orgasm building to a crescendo.
His mouth covers mine, rough and wet, absorbing my moans as I cry out, my come spurting messily between us. I drag my mouth away to suck in air just as I feel him shudder against me.
“Ah, fuck, so good,” he cries out.
He trembles as he tries to recover, and I pull him down to connect our mouths again. “Can’t get enough.” One last time to solidify in my memory his taste and smell.
We stay that way well past the time to clean up, our tongues sliding together, our breaths mingling in the intimate space between us.
16
JACK
I absently glance at the shiny Lexus that pulls up to a pump Friday morning. Not like we don’t serve a wide array of customers as well as cars, from junkers to Aston Martins.
Once he fills up, he parks in one of the spots reserved for the garage and goes inside. Maybe he needs directions or thinks we offer a snack counter. I can’t help noticing his expensive shoes and swanky suit.
The man waits in line, and as soon as I’m finished ringing up another customer, he steps closer. “Can I help you?”
“So this is the infamous gas station.” He raps his knuckles on the counter. “The only one around for miles.”
“Infamous?” I reply with a chuckle. What is this guy on about? “I obviously wouldn’t call us that, but drivers low on gas are certainly glad to happen upon us.”
“Indeed.” He smirks. “Anyway, I’m actually looking for someone staying in town.”
A light bulb goes off in my head. “Ah, you must be the business partner.”
“Rocco.” He holds out his hand, and I give it a quick shake out of courtesy, though I want to tell him to fuck off, especially if he’s here to offer reinforcement. “And you must be Jack McCoy. Looks like Aaron’s mentioned me?”
“Of course. I mean, you are trying to buy my business.”
“True. And I heard you turned us down flat.”
“Can you blame me?” I temper my tone so it doesn’t come across as sarcastic. “Look around. I’m living my best life.”
He glances across the sparse lobby and then toward the lone vending machine. “And you could probably do even better.”
“Not interested.” I hold up my hands, barely keeping from rolling my eyes. “You can find your friend by heading west on the main road. Once past the center of town, hang a right. He’s staying at the inn.”
“Perfect, thank you.” He looks around one last time as if casing the joint or picturing what it might become if only he could buy it. “See you around.”
Not if I can help it.
I watch as the man gets back in his fancy car and pulls away.
Frank strolls in from the garage side. “Who was that?”
“Aaron’s business partner. Probably here to lay it on thick and get me to fold on selling this place.”
“Oh boy, Grumpy Jack will be emerging soon.” He chuckles. “But I get it, especially if you already have your mind dead set against it.”
I stare at my friend, wondering what his opinion is. He’s remained quiet on the topic. “What if I did decide to sell one day? Where would that leave you?”
“No clue.” He shrugs like it’s no big thing, which has always been Frank. He just lets things roll off him. “Suppose I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. The most important question is what’s best for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s not pretend you love running this place. You’re doing it for your parents.”
I make a frustrated sound. “So? What if I am? What the hell else would I be doing?”
“Whatever it was you planned on doing before the accident.” He winces and looks away, knowing it’s still a painful subject.
“That’s just the thing. I never really had it all figured out.” I fold my arms and lean against the counter. “Not like you did. I helped run the family businesses and took pictures in my spare time.”