From my position propped up on the stool behind the counter, I only get the occasional peek at Chase. Most of the time, he’s out of my sight, but occasionally he comes into view. Usually just long enough for him to bend over and pull another book from the box.
Those fantasies? Yeah, they’re out of control right now. I’d do almost anything for the chance to bite that ass.
The stupid store layout means those little glimpses are few and far between. Someone should really do something about that.
Thankfully, I’m distracted by a few of the regular customers who pop in. Some browse the shelves for something that catches their eye, while others grab a specific book.
By the time closing rolls around, I’ve almost forgotten about Chase and his sexy ass.
Almost.
Right up until he appears in front of the counter, empty box in hand.
“Did you put them all on the table?”
“Yep, they’re all stacked up. Very nicely, too, I might add.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps a few buttons before sliding it over to me.
Yep, that isallthe books. All seventy-five of them, artfully arranged on a small table. It’s a disaster waiting to happen, all those books perched precariously on a tiny table at the front of the store. The perfect position for pets, children, and clumsy adults to knock them over without a single thought.
Twenty at a time is usually more than sufficient. Maybe if this shop was in Copley Square, Boston, instead ofdowntownSleighbell Springs, that would work. The book is popular, but it’s not going to be a massive craze. I expect to eventually sell through that stock, but not in the next week.
Or month.
It’ll last me most of the year.
“It looks great.” I sure hope my face is doing the right thing. Chase is so proud of his accomplishment. There’s no harm done; nothing that can’t be fixed. If a few books disappear to the backroom after he leaves, then it’s perfect.
“Do you need anything else?” he asks with such enthusiasm that I’m tempted to find him another chore. Maybe dusting the tops of the bookshelves. It’s late. My ankle hurts, and there’s a big bathtub calling my name.
“Nope. I’m just going to lock up and head home.”
“I can help.”
“With…”
“Locking up. Getting to your car.”
“Oh, I think I’ve got it.” That ass? The one I almost forgot about? It can’t help me get to my car. If he’s touching me the whole way, well, I’m pretty sure I won’t make it. At least not without embarrassing myself. I’ve already done plenty of that today. We don’t need to add to it, thank you very much.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Let me help. I want to.”
And he does. Chase helps me turn the sign from open to closed. Chase helps me lock the front door. Every step of the way, Chase is right there, by my side. By the time he leaves me in my car, I can smell him all over me. It’s an earthy scent that can’t possibly be natural, but also doesn’t smell like any cologne I know.
Instead of a bath, I decide to go straight to bed. Well, maybe not straight to bed. All those fantasies? Yeah, I’ll put them to good use.
Between the sheets, I let my mind wander toward an image of Chase, bent over, shorts riding up until the bottom of his cheeks are visible. It’s the perfect fodder for a quick jerk-off session. I stroke myself, slowly at first, thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. I’ve thought about it—a lot—over the years, butit’s different now. He’s got facial hair that I would one hundred percent be willing to get beard burn for, especially if he wanted to take me in the back room of the shop.
It doesn’t take long before my hand speeds up, desperate for relief after being edged all day long. Images of Chase pressing me up against the wall, covering my mouth so the customers wouldn’t be able to hear my moans dance through my head. And yeah, maybe the whole town doesn’t need to be involved in my fantasies, but who’s it hurting?
Fantasy Chase doesn’t need to do much, only snake a hand around to grab hold of my cock. In real life, I hope I’d make it more than a few strokes before shooting all over the wall. Here, in my bed with nothing but a mental picture, I don’t manage that long before my orgasm crashes over me. Panting and covered in cum, I slowly come back to myself.
Shit. That wasn’t good.
My fantasies of Chase—my best friend’s brother—have always stayed safely behind a wall in my mind. Despite many temptations, I’ve never allowed them to play out like this before. Not while I jerked off. That’s a slippery slope, one I’m not going down.
Even thinking about him made me come harder than I have in years.
7
