He pulls out and flips me over yet again. Through barely open eyes, I witness a fascinating expression on his face — half cocky, self-satisfied grin, half affectionate smile, like I’m a friend and he’s happy that I’m clearly so blissed out.
He kneels at the edge of the bed and lifts my legs, propping them on his chest. I’m grateful that he doesn’t make me do any work, because I’m not sure I could manage at the moment.
His cock sinks back into me, and with his eyes on my face, he starts to fuck me again, deep, long strokes that gradually build in pace until he reaches a steady rhythm, our bodies slapping together, his bed shaking beneath us.
I grab a handful of the bedding and hold on as he works toward his release. His jaw is set tight. The muscles in his chest flex as he pistons into me again and again and again.
With the last bit of energy I possess, I flex my inner muscles, squeezing around his cock, pushing him over the edge into his oblivion.
His cock swells even larger, jerks, and starts to release, throbbing deep inside me. His face contorts as he wraps an arm around my legs and holds them tightly against him. He moans, and vulnerability flickers across his features as he reaches his peak.
After he pumps into me for the final time, his head falls forward and he releases a heavy breath. It’s as if we just completed a workout together; it was all so energetic, full of need, and so much pent-up desire.
It was also even better than I imagined.
His shoulders curl inward as he pulls out of me and removes the condom. He’s so beautiful. And he’s right. Even though he very thoroughly satisfied me, he’s also left me wanting more of him.
Damnit.
19
Here comes summer
Every night, Rusty’s gets a little bit busier as we edge into summer. Both bartenders, Christine and Tom, are on duty, and the other server, Scott, and I are constantly on the move during the first few hours of my shift.
In addition to vacationers coming in for drinks, a lot of locals who aren’t frequent customers are stopping by to ask about the construction work they see happening in the lot when they drive by during the day.
Without fail, their questions bring to mind memories of the four men laboring, their muscles hard and sweaty. From there, my brain taunts me with scenes of the night I saw Shane hard and sweaty and naked, and now it has new material from this morning, of Khalil working over me in his bed.
I’m contemplating whether I have time to go into a bathroom stall and rub one out when Christine comes over to help with drink orders.
“Ready or not, here comes summer,” she says with a nod toward the crowd.
“I’m always ready for summer,” I say, more out of habit than current conviction.
“I saw your building today. We detoured around to take a look at it on the way in,” she says. The “we” she’s referring to includes her ex-husband, Jay, and one of her new men, Corbin. They’re the two here with her tonight, but she actually lives with four men; the other two are traveling for work.
You’d think that they’d see enough of each other during the day, but one or more of them often accompanies her to work, where they hang out at a table, drink a couple of beers, watch TV, and chat with my boss, Barrett, when he’s around.
I used to think her men came with her because they were jealous and controlling, but I quickly realized that wasn’t the case. They’re always friendly and easygoing, and though I know that can sometimes be an act with men, I know for a fact that Christine would never put up with that kind of bullshit. She clearly likes having them here, and they treat her like the queen that she is.
“That was a huge tree,” Christine says. “They have a lot of work to do over there. I wonder if they might just demolish the building rather than repairing it.”
I shrug, having already resigned myself to the fact that I need to find a new apartment. The manager contacted me earlier to arrange a time to pick up the rest of our belongings. Fortunately, Jade’s boyfriend has a truck, but I haven’t figured out yet where I’m going to store my stuff.
Christine helps me add garnishes to the line of drinks. “It’s nice that your family is nearby, so you have a place to stay.” When I don’t respond right away, she adds, “Though of course, you could have stayed with us if your mom wasn’t here on the island.”
“Thanks,” I say, letting her assumption pass without correcting her. I don’t want her to learn what’s really going on and invite me to stay with her, because clearly she values her time with her men, and I don’t want to intrude on their happiness.