Page 78 of Sterling Touch
“Cort,” I groan.
“What was it you explained to me.” He pauses, tipping two fingers into the nearby honey jar. “High excitement but you need high intention.”
Removing his finger from me and then bringing those twofingers coated in honey between my legs instead, Cort continues. “My intention . . . is to make you my new favorite meal.” He swipes the sticky sap over my hot center and dives in, licking at the mess he’s making, creating more of one, and my arousal mixes with my homemade brand.
“Holy shit,” I cry out at the hunger of Cort’s lips, the eagerness of his tongue. For all my talk of needing time, I’m on the edge within seconds and crying out his name within minutes.
My orgasm slams into me so hard, the intensity causes me to choke on air, trying to catch my breath. Cort’s name on my lips is a stuttering mangle of syllables.
With a final lap between my legs, which involves a generous swipe up and around to lick me clean, Cort pulls back. His beard is coated with a combination of me and sticky residue.
Helookslike a child, who has eaten a messy meal.
“Dammit, Cort.” I chuckle before draping my arm over my eyes, still trying to catch my breath after such a rush. My feet dangle off his counter, tingling asleep.
Cort grips my hand and pulls my arm free from my face, then gently tugs me upright.
“Now, why don’t you head to my bathroom, and I’ll clean up, then make us an actual lunch.” He kisses me quick with his messy lips before swiping at his mouth and sucking the tip of his finger. “Never a fan of leftovers, but this isn’t bad.”
He winks and helps me down from the counter. Then he slaps my ass, and I yelp as I gather my clothes and head to his bathroom.
When I return to the kitchen, the distinct scent of bleach and a spray bottle of kitchen cleaner near the sink tells me Cort sanitized the countertop before getting to his original plan of making sandwiches. With plates in hand, he nods toward his fridge. “Want to grab the iced tea and follow me?”
He has no idea I’d follow him anywhere he wants to lead me.
29
[Cort]
Eating lunch with Vale, or eating Vale for lunch, becomes my new obsession. With her working in Rogue River, I meet her as often as I can on her lunch break. Thankfully, I’m not on top of roofs as much as I used to be, but in more of a supervisory position for our jobsites and can slip home at my leisure.
I’ve even given Vale a key, so she doesn’t have to wait for me, if I’m running late.
In many ways, I’m happy Vale and I take things slow in a sense. These past few weeks, I’ve felt like a teenager again, getting away with sneaking around and meeting up with my girl. We make out a lot and get off by hand jobs and oral play, but I’m eager to put my dirty talk to further practice, as Vale said, and have sex with her.
Only one afternoon reminds me why that shouldn’t happen.
“Stone isn’t able to watch Hudson for me after all. I can’t get away on Friday or Saturday,” she mentions after we’ve had lunch one day.
Vale and I haven’t had a more formal date at my house in weeks. One where we aren’t on the clock, and I can take more time with her.
The reminder of Stone is a damper on my desire.
“And Sundays are always out because of Sylver Sunday.”
“Sylver what?” I chuckle without humor, instantly sour that I’ll be missing out on another date, spending another weekend without her.
“Every Sunday. Stone set the tradition back when he took over the family.” Vale isn’t looking at me as she straightens her Reflexology polo over her black leggings.
She doesn’t need to clarify for me whattook over the familymeans. At twenty-two, my best friend was about to graduate from college. He had a deal signed with a professional football team out west and was on his way to success. More money than his family had ever seen running their small-town, family-owned seed and soil business, which his brother Clay was frantically trying to keep afloat despite their dad having gambling debts and bar tabs all over the county.
Stone planned to take care of his siblings, financially, from a distance.
But when old man Sylver killed himself, Stone didn’t feel like he had any other choice but to return home and become guardian to his younger siblings, especially Knox, Ford, Sebastian, and Vale who were all under eighteen at the time.
“Sylver Sunday,” Vale continues. “Enya started calling it that when she started coming around. Every Sunday, Stone insisted on a family meal. Like a weekly check-in. It was a time for him to write up the family schedule on a calendar and get a read on where everyone was at. Homework. School functions. Basic needs.” Vale fluffs up her long locks and then swipes themback, collecting them in one hand and using a hairband from her opposite wrist to secure her hair in a ponytail.
The hair style makes her look young and reminds me how much younger she is than me.
