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The head of his cock presses against me, he spits on my ass, and I push back, needing him inside me. As he presses into me, I whine and close my eyes. All thoughts about the carousel melt away, and my mind is silent.

I drag in a shuddering breath as my body settles around him, and neither of us moves for a moment. When he does, the pace he sets pushes deep, and I brace myself on my forearms, my forehead tipped toward the hood. The car shifts under our weight, creaking like it might crumble beneath us.

He holds my hips with both hands, digging his fingers into my flesh. Rolling his hips forward, he drags a needy sound from me. Fuck, he feels good. I’m not one to seek sexual connections, and I could live without them. Sure, I like sex as much as the next person, but it’s not something my brain holds onto often, yet Cave always seeks me out and drags me away from whatever I’m doing.

His mouth comes back to my neck, and he bites down, marking my skin. Goosebumps travel down my spine, and my arms shake. One elbow bends so my chest sits lower, and Cave makes a sound that vibrates against my skin. I know what it means, having spent way more time than I will ever admit learning the sounds Cave makes. They are few and far between, and his words are even better. But not his riddles—those don’t truly sound like him.

I push back against his firm body and feel his grip tighten. As I do it again, he picks up the pace, and the hood protests beneath us with a low groan. The rust is rough beneath my palms, and I know I will have scratches on my hands later, but I don’t mind. Cave’s hand comes around me to stroke my cock in time with the movement of his hips. As euphoria overwhelms me, I press my head onto the hood, and my whole body draws tight.

I love the weight of his body against mine and how we work together.

I don’t seek it out; he comes when he needs me. The only person who has commented on us is Vero, and that’s only because he’s nosy. When he notices something, he talks before his brain can catch up. While he means no harm, he annoys Cave a lot, which is mildly amusing.

Cave thrusts forward, driving away thoughts of Vero. My orgasm built slowly, but finally I shudder and breathe out. I feel the tension leave my body in sections—first my shoulders, next my arms, and then the rest of my body. I don’t make a big show of what we have done, as I find words unnecessary most of the time.

Cave follows, his rhythm breaking as his forehead drops to my shoulder. For a few seconds Cave is not himself, and I have started to sense something in these moments, but can’t find the right words, so again I say nothing.

He stays there for a moment, his hand flat against my hip. Eventually he straightens and watches as I fix my clothes.

Once I’m dressed, I look from him to the shed. “The housing is still open on my bench.”

He nods, turns, and walks away.

I watch until he disappears, then scurry back into the shed and head to the toilet cubicle to clean myself up. Before long, I return to my workbench and pick up the file. With a sigh, I get back to work.

Chapter Seven

Valli

My boss is an asshole. He is the type of man who has never said thank you to anyone in his life because he genuinely thinks the world revolves around him that he is better than everyone. He opened the coffee shop eleven years ago, and I would bet everything I own—which isn’t much—that not a single staff member has ever felt valued. Most have left because they found something better, or because George fired them when he was in a bad mood. Which is every day, but some days are worse than others.

I have been working here for fourteen months, and today George is watching me from his spot behind the register, looking for anything he can find that I have done wrong. Even if everything else I have done is right. He makes everything so hard, including not having enough clean aprons and fixing things at the last minute. Our coffee machine has needed to be fixed for weeks, as the sound it’s making isn’t normal. Plus, I won’t even think about our tip jar—the one he helps himself to, even though he does no work.

This morning he was a pain in my ass as he watched me restock the display cabinet. I had to take everything off in order to reset it. After I was done, all he said was that the mugs were not evenly spaced. His words made me want to smash every last one of them, but I won’t because I need my job—yet if there ever comes a day I can leave, I will do it.

“Table four needs clearing,” he snaps from his spot at the register, the spot he has not moved from for the last three hours.

I’m currently making three coffees and a hot chocolate on the machine that is running at a snail’s pace. “I’ll get to it,” I call out.

“Valli, now,” he spits.

I set down the milk jug. “George, I have four drinks, but they’re almost done.”

He gives me a look, the one that screams, You’re a bitch and better do as I say. It’s one of his go-to faces he likes to pull. I swear he thinks all his employees are an inconvenience. Last week Lucy hid in the bathroom and cried, even though she denied it when she came out, but I could see the red rims of her eyes.

I finish the drinks and deliver them, then clean table four on my way back, wiping it down. I smile at a couple who sit down just as I finish. “I’ll be right with you.”

I put the cloth away and take their order, then I dash back and put it through the register. By the time I’m back at the coffee machine making their drinks, George is glaring at another table.

“Table six,” he snaps.

I grind my teeth together, holding back my words. This man is impossible—I will get to table six soon. Or maybe his lumpy ass could get up and do it, since he can see I am run off my feet.

Then the lunch rush hits and doesn’t let up for two hours. By the end of it my feet ache, and so does my jaw from clenching so hard from stopping myself from cussing out my boss for being the biggest dick on the planet.

Lucy smiles at me; she knows the drill. None of us say anything, as we’re the ones stuck here, with no career goals or skills to get a better job. I wish I could, but Leni’s accommodation payment comes out in three weeks, and I barely have the money to cover half of it.

At the end of my shift, George appears at my side as I’m untying my apron. “I need you to work on Sunday.”