I watch from above as that one-word admission sends Milo over the edge, his eyes rolling back as his hold on me tightens and, after a groaned-out moan, his voice falls quiet once more.
Twenty-six
Milo
The last fivedays have passed in a hectic blur, my time divided between helping Nik and Aleks get the brewery ready for tonight’s opening and spending every other available second with orinside ofPrue, crossing items off her list.
I’m addicted to her. The feel of her skin. The taste of her lips. The scent of her hair. The sound of her voice, her laugh, her moans. Fuckingallof her.
I’ve been holding back a million dirty, filthy, depraved words from Prue while we have sex. Coming to the thought of her wearing my ring, wearing white, letting me fill her and claim her from the inside out. Thoughts I’d never once entertained before that now I can’t put to rest. I’m going insane. I can only pray that when I finally get to tell her everything I feel, what my intentions are, that it’ll settle some of this storm inside of my chest.
One more day. One more day and then I’ll get to tell hereverything.Then there’ll be no more holding back.
“You have slightly less than two minutes,” she warns me, her breaths shallow as she digs her heel into the space between my shoulder blades. “I heard you on the phone earlier. Nik needed you by five,” she says, falling back against the sweater I’d laid outunder her head, cushioning her from my van’s floor. We’re checking the two final items off her list:sex in a carandbeing tied up.
I remove my tongue from her perfect pussy and glance up at her, arms tied above her head to the driver’s armrest. “I don’t think you’re in much of a position to tell me what to do right now, Killer.”
She stares back at me, cheeks as red and flushed as her tits. “I amnotgoing to be the reason you’re late.”
“Trust me, I know by now how much both punctuation and punctuality mean to you….” I lean down to lick up her wet slit that’s coated by her last few orgasms. The taste is enough to make me stiffen in my jeans.
“I said I’d be gone for thirty minutes and it’s been more like forty,” she whispers, attempting to lift her hips away from me and shut her legs. “You, sir, are being cut off.”
“Just give me one more—”
“No!” she says, giggling. “Untie me!”
I do as told, but not before biting her thigh, bringing her blue silk panties back up her legs, and tugging down her tartan skirt I love so much.
“So?” I ask, untying her. “What do you think? Yes or not for you?”
She sits up underneath me, her eyes full of fire and sass. “I think I’d have more fun tying you up, actually.”
“That,” I say, kissing her once her wrists are entirely free, “can be arranged.”
“Well, that is if you don’t take off first…” She rolls to the side, sitting up as she buttons her blouse back up. Prue’s been doing this over the last few days, insinuating that I’m going to take off the moment the brewery opens, as I’d once made clear. Ihatethat I can’t set her at ease. But I will. Soon.
“Wouldn’t miss that,” I reply, handing Prue her shoes.
“Hmm,” she says, side-eyeing me with a wry grin as she takes them from me. She slides Bertha’s side door open, tosses her loafers onto the ground below, which is dusted with red and orange leaves, and places her feet inside of them.
“I’ll see you later?” I ask, already knowing the answer. Still, my heart wants to hear it anyway.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” she teases, stepping out of Bertha and fetching her truck’s keys from her bag. “I hope flirting with the bartender gets me a few free drinks.” She twists around to smile at me, her hair blowing in the wind.
“You’re beautiful.” I tell her that every time I think it and every chance I get. So, often.
She smiles, wide and toothy. “You too.” She leans inside to kiss my cheek before walking across the driveway. “Seriously though, I want free drinks!” she shouts before getting into her truck and beginning to drive away.
“I love you,” I say to myself, watching her truck make its way down the long driveway and turn onto the main strip of road.
Five hours later, the brewery is officially opened and filled to the brim. Nik and Aleks decided to skip the traditional ribbon-cutting ceremony and, instead, shotgunned a beer out front. The party only got more fun from there. Tom and John play aneclecticmix of music, one might say, but the locals get a kick out of seeing them play—earning my brother major townie points.
The out-of-towners are too drunk to carewhatmusic is playing, and Lynn, who owns the local inn, is thrilled as she passes out business cards.
“Lynn who owns the inn,” I say to Aleks as he pours another flight of beers next to me. “This town is a fucking Seuss book.”
“ ‘Cheryl who owns the deli’ doesn’t really have the same ringto it,” he shouts over Tom’sloudrendition of Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me.”
