Page 47 of Made to Be

“Are you delicious gentlemen looking for a third?” the man asked as he leaned over the counter, a little further than necessary. He was giving us what I assumed was his flirtatious look as he blatantly propositioned us, but the expression was kind of skeevy and made him look rather... constipated.

“‘Cause I could be the filling in that peanut butter and sexy sandwich. If you’d let me.”

“Ugh, gross dude,” I told him. “Just ring us up, please.”

He moaned and reached for the bottle to scan it. As I was sliding my card through the reader, since they didn’t take phone pay here, he added,

“I’ll do whatever you want, baby.”

Cam stiffened and grabbed the bag from the counter a touch too aggressively.

“Don’t call him that,” he growled.

The authority and possessiveness in Cam’s deep voice made shivers race all over my body as goosebumps pebbled across my skin. Whatever tone that was, I needed him to use it while he was fucking me so hard that I forgot my own name.

Welp, that successfully distracted me, making me forget all about the creepy cashier guy.

Then, with no preamble, Cam grabbed my hand once more and pulled me toward the exit.

“Come back again!” the man called after us, completely unfazed. “It’s been an absolutepleasure!”

Once we were safely back in my car, Cam urged me to drive away quickly just in case the man came out after us. But I didn’t head straight home. With Cam’s hand in mine, we took a detour I knew well that would take us past the Briarwood Community Park and Gardens. I had him choose the music, pleased to find out we enjoyed many of the same bands.

His taste in music was as eclectic as mine. We listened to a little bit of everything as we drove through the dark, dodging potholes as gravel crunched beneath the tires. He even sang along with me when a few songs from my favorite musicals played.

And Cam had... such a nice voice. Especially when he sang.

As I pulled us into the deserted parking lot, lit only by the evenly spaced streetlamps, Cam turned the music down to a dull hum that filled the background.

“What are we doing here?”

“I’m taking advantage of the quiet and solitude to plot murder,” I replied instantly, staring blankly ahead at the darkness.

I slowly turned to meet Cam’s gaze.

He grinned at me, “And here I thought you were trying to seduce me. Shame.”

Yep. That settled it. Cam was a grade-A flirt and I loved it. Too bad for him, I could match it.

“Do you want me to seduce you, Cam?” I whispered as I leaned over the console to get closer. My fingers danced over the back of his hand lightly tracing the veins, and his fingers flexed in response.

His eyes flared with heat then settled on my mouth. I watched as he licked his lips and drew his bottom lip between his teeth, working the piercing. When I noticed him leaning toward me, I swiftly sat back in my seat with a wicked smirk.

He huffed, “Tease.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” I quipped right back.

I decided to let this lingering heat simmer between us as I reached for the bag.

“Now, let’s try to get these off.”

Popping open the bottle, I poured a generous amount of lube into my palm. The fake scent of cherries immediately filled the small space of my car which I found... disturbingly erotic. I reached for Cam’s cuffed wrist and slicked up his hand and the skin beneath, then my own, the pink fluff clumping and getting slippery. It felt weirdly intimate. The sounds of the lube, wet and almost sticky, could be heard over the low hum of the music. And, for some unknown reason, between applying the lube and us each respectively trying towriggle our hands from the constraints, my heart had begun to race.

The chains clinked and the arousing noises of our slippery hands seemed to turn something on in my brain. Or, more accurately, off. Seeing as the blood was quickly flowing from it to another part of my body.

My cock was rapidly stiffening in my sweatpants, and I couldn’t even think about what it was that had specifically turned me on. I didn’t even want to figure it out as my straining erection began to throb and ache against the seam.

At some point, I had stopped trying to work the cuff over my slippery hand and was watching Cam in his own loosely focused ministrations.