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The whimpers coming from him made my heart clench. I shoved my free hand under his shirt to his nipple and squeezed it between my fingers. Maddix jerked against me, tilting his head back into the wall, his eyes closed.
“Fuck.” He groaned, rolling his hips. I stroked him faster until his breathing came out in desperate, ragged pants.
My cock twitched against my jeans, eager to be a part of the show, but the ending was yet to come, and I needed to savor every bit of it.
Not this time.
Perhaps not ever.
I needed to see him come apart for me once more.
His cock jerked in my hand. Maddix’s muscles tightened, and his breath hitched.
“Troy,” he panted my name as ropes of cum shot into my hand and onto my T-shirt. I tweaked his nipple, and he trembled against me, sagging against the wall.
The ache in my groin was worth it to see him like that. Completely undone.
Now what?
My phone rang, jolting me back from making the mistake of kissing Maddix. I fished my phone out of my pocket. Gladys. Thank god. Why couldn’t she have called half an hour ago before I laid a finger on Maddix?
“Gladys,” I said past the tightness of my throat. “You locked me out.”
“I’m sorry. I had to run to the supermarket to get a few items I thought I had, but I’m back now. Where are you?”
“On my way.”
I ended the call.
“Troy,” Maddix said. “Don’t go.”
His earnest plea only made the situation worse. He wanted something I didn’t dare give him again.
“I’m sorry.” I untied the shoelace around his wrists and clenched it in my palm. “I should go.”
9
MADDIX
Maddix
The Apple Festival of Rosewood Pines was one of the biggest events of the year, rivaled only by the Christmas Tree Lighting and 4th of July celebrations. Vendors lined the park with rows of stands selling everything from apple pies to apple butter to apple cider and everything in between.
From my stand, I watched children darting through the crowds with candy apples, their faces smeared with sticky red syrup, while couples strolled arm in arm.
Despite the cheerful atmosphere, uneasiness clenched my stomach. Since Troy jerked me off yesterday, I hadn’t seen him again. He was avoiding me, going so far as to skip dinner Gladys had invited me to last night. How was I supposed to find him in this crowd? Would he even show up? He seemed so impatient to get out of this town.
“No apple pie?” A young man stopped at my table, his wide brown eyes focused more on me than the pretzels. His face was pierced in interesting places: lips, eyebrows, cheeks, and nostrils. “I was told if I wanted the best apple pie to find your stall.”
“Unfortunately, no apple pie this year. Thought I’d try something new, so I made apple cinnamon soft pretzels.”
“Yum.” He licked his lips, but his gaze shifted up and down my body instead of the pretzels. “I think I’ll try one.”
“Let me know how you like it.”
“I’m sure I’ll like it a lot.”
He paid for the pretzel and bit into it, then widened his eyes dramatically. “Marry me.”
