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When my stomach is full of goodness, I pat myself on the belly and push away the food. “Thank you so much. I didn’t realize I was starved until I started eating and couldn’t stop.”
“You’re very welcome,” he says, patting his mouth with a napkin and picking up the empty containers. “You’ve brought food plenty of times to work at the funeral home. It’s the least I could do,” he tells me.
“And doing it without asking first? Look at you and your sudden bout of spontaneity.”
“It’s new to me,” he confesses with a sheepish grin. When he does it, laugh lines appear around his eyes and he suddenly looks younger. Carefree. It’s an appearance I’m not used to seeing on Samuel.
“You’re doing just fine,” I reassure him, patting his hand.
Suddenly, an idea sparks to life, and even though I definitely shouldn’t, I’m definitely gonna.
Glancing around the empty store, the moment he throws all the trash in the bin, I reach for his hand. He seems a little hesitant at first, but follows behind me as I guide him toward the dressing rooms. Even though he’s most certainly a little uncomfortable as I lead him through the masses of panties, he doesn’t say a word.
Not until I open the dressing room curtain and motion for him to step inside.
“Uh, Freedom?” he asks, giving me a look of both concern and horror.
I offer him my sweetest grin with devil horns and pull him completely inside. “Come on, Sammy. Live a little.” Then, I push against his shoulders until he plops down on the small bench.
The surprised look on his face makes me smile even wider. “Wh-what are you doing?”
Before he can process what I’m doing, I drop to my knees between his legs and run my hands up his thighs. “I’m saying thank you for lunch.”
“Thank you?” he asks, and then like the flip of a switch, he must realize what I mean. “What? Freedom! You can’t do that here,” he scolds, his voice low and harsh, yet there’s no denying the hint of excitement in his eyes.
“I can, and I will,” I tell him, reaching up to unfasten his belt. He doesn’t argue, but he doesn’t really assist either. He seems torn between what’s right (not receiving a blowie in his sister’s shop’s dressing room) and what’s wrong (enjoying the hell out of a blowie in his sister’s shop’s dressing room).
When I get his pants undone, and I need his assistance to get them down past his hips, he finally speaks again. “I’m not sure about this, Freedom.” His voice is still low, like a whisper, but there’s a definite current of desire with it.
“All you have to do sit still there for a few minutes. I realized I’ve never really done this to you, and I really, really want to wrap my mouth around your cock right now and suck you off.”
His eyes widen and darken, his cock jumps in his pants. “See? He wants to come out and play too,” I add, running my palm over the entire hard length of his erection.
“Shit,” he mumbles. “But, what about…what about Harper? Or a customer?”
I blow out a breath. “I’ll be able to hear the bell over the door. Plus, we’ll be done before she gets back, if you’d actually take off your pants and let me get started.”
As I stroke him through his trousers a few more times, I can see the moment I win the battle. He sags against the wall and he closes his eyes with a deep exhale. Then, he reaches down, lifts his hips, and helps remove his pants and tighty-whities.
Leaning forward, I waste no time. I take his long, hard cock in my hands and bend down. I lick the tip, tasting the salty wetness seeping from his erection, before taking him down my throat. A gasp fills the small space as his hips flex. “Shit,” he mumbles.
With a sassy grin, I tell him, “Hang on, Sammy. This is going to be a wild and fast ride.”
