I hoped work would distract me from thinking about Barrett, but every time the bell jangles, I look up, my heart tripping over itself with stupid hope that it’ll be him. Not sure why he’d show up here after I was a perfect ass to him even after he saved me from a good thrashing. Mind you, I still don’t appreciate that he took one look at my pea soup and thought I needed him to buy me dinner, but I coulda been more polite about the whole thing.
It’s a little after ten when he steps into the bar. I’m so surprised, I let out an embarrassing squeak and nearly drop the glass of beer I’m filling.
“Watch it,” Roy Jenkins scolds me as beer cascades over the rim of the glass and down my fingers.
“Sorry,” I mutter, setting it down and grabbing a rag to wipe the glass off, and then handing it to him. “Sorry,” I say again, and he nods in acknowledgment, not saying another word.
I use the same rag to wipe the sticky beer from my hand before tossing it aside and making my way to the end of the bar where Barrett’s claimed a seat.
“What can I get ya?” I ask, dragging my tongue over my dry lips and letting my eyes roam over the strong cut of his jaw for a few seconds. He looks so sturdy—big muscles, broad shoulders, thighs thick as tree trunks. I bet he could pick me up and throw me over his shoulder like nothing. I have no idea why that thought it so arousing, but damn if my dick doesn’t rise to the occasion.
“A beer is fine, pre-” He must see my glare because he stops himself, giving me a wry smile before finishing. “Sterling.”
I nod and pour him a beer.
“What are you doin’ in town anyway?” I ask when I set it in front of him, my curiosity getting the best of me. I can’t for the life of me imagine what Billow could possibly have to offer for him to be sticking around all week.
“I was just passing through,” he answers, giving me a meaningful look. My heartbeat kicks up, and those butterflies take up residence in my belly again.
“And now?” I try to keep my tone casual. There’s no way he means it how it sounded.
“Now, I’m…seeing what happens,” he responds vaguely. “Tell me, Sterling, do you have a boyfriend?” A startled laugh bursts from my lips, and I dart a glance over to Roy, the only other customer currently taking up space at the bar. He doesn’t seem to be payin’ us no mind, but the last thing I need is for new rumors to spread around town about me.
I put my elbows on the bar and lean in closer to Barrett. A woodsy, manly scent wafts off of him. Not like he’s actually been in the woods, but like he used deodorant or soap that’s meant to make him smell that way. It makes me want to bury my nose in his armpit or against his chest to get a better whiff.
“Why would you ask me a thing like that?” I worry my bottom lip between my teeth and meet his eyes. He opens his mouth, and I’m afraid he’s about to apologize for assuming I’m interested in men, which is the last thing I want. “What kinda man would want someone who looks like me?”
He studies my face for a few beats and then drops his eyes down to my body, his gaze feeling almost like a caress the way he stares with a look that I could swear is lustful. My body tingles, and my cock presses against my zipper, the air between us feeling charged like the way it feels right before a lightning storm.
“I would,” he says, and my heart about leaps out of my chest.
I push back off the bar, taking a step back and trying to calm myself before I do something stupid like fling myself across the bar at him. “You don’t mean that. You don’t even know me.”
“So, let me get to know you,” he suggests, as if it’s that simple. “Tell me everything there is to know about you. I have all the time in the world.”
I scoff. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m working right now. I don’t exactly have time to yammer at some stranger all night long.”
Barrett gives a pointed look around the empty bar. Of course, Roy chooses that exact moment to finish his drink, standing up and seeing himself out, which leaves Barrett and me all alone.
“Fine, I don’t know what you even wanna know.”
“Let’s start with your last name,” he says.
“Davis. But if I’m going to play twenty questions with you, this goes both ways,” I insist.
“That’s fair. My last name is Russell.”
I furrow my eyebrows, that name, Barrett Russell, tickling my memory. I’m sure I’ve never met him before. He’s the kind of man I wouldn’t forget if I had.
“Where are you from?” I ask.
“Connecticut originally. I’ve been living in Las Vegas for the past ten years.” He takes a sip of his beer, and I watch the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, wishing I could feel the motion under my lips. Or better yet, his naked body against mine, hovering over me, weighing down on me, his grunts and moans vibrating against my lips as he fills me and fucks me. My stomach heats, and I duck my gaze, afraid he’ll somehow be able to read my filthy thoughts all over my face.
I lick my lips again and force the thoughts from my mind. “I bet Las Vegas is exciting,” I muse.
“It’s okay. Tell me about your family.”
“Just me and my mama. My gran was around when I was a kid, but she’s passed now.” I square my shoulders and prepare for his judgment out of habit, so used to everyone around here knowing that my daddy ran off as soon as I was born.
He doesn’t seem fazed by it, moving immediately to the next question, his eyes fixed on me the entire time in a way that’s as arousing as it is unsettling. I’m not used to having so much of anyone’s attention. It’s kind of…nice.
“Did you always want to be a bartender?” he asks, and I give a one shoulder shrug, absently wiping down the already clean bar.
“It’s a job, and it ain’t rocket science or nothin’.”
He studies me for a long time until I feel like I might spontaneously combust from his eyes on me. It’s weird cause I’m used to folks staring, but I ain’t never had nobody look at me the way he is. I can’t figure what to do with it.
“If you could have any job, what would it be? What’s your dream job?” he finally asks.
I scoff. “Dreams are a real good way of getting your heart broken,” I tell him honestly. I gave up dreaming a long time ago. It’s safer that way.
A sad look passes behind his eyes before he launches into another question.
He must ask me a thousand questions about my favorite foods, best childhood memories, pets...so many questions I lose track of the time.
“Oh, shoot, it’s past closin’ time,” I say, realizing the late hour. My voice is almost hoarse from how much we talked tonight. I told him all about the creek where I used to catch bullfrogs when I was a kid, and he told me a bit about his childhood, which sounds like it occurred on a whole different planet than mine. It sounded nice though.
Since it was a slow night, there isn’t much to do to close up other than lock the register and put the stools up. Barrett helps me, even though I try to wave him off, and I have to admit it’s not a bad sight to watch his muscles strain as he picks each stool up over his head before setting them on the bar. Show off.
He catches me watching and winks at me, making my belly flutter all over again and my skin heat and prickle.
“I’m going to give you a ride home,” he says firmly, like he did earlier, leaving no room for argument. If I agree, will he call me a good boy again?
“Yeah, okay.”
Barrett gives me a slow, almost lazy kind of smile, his eyelids drooping as he takes a step closer to me. I should feel nervous, being all alone with a strange man in the middle of the night like this, but of all the things jumbled up inside me, nerves ain’t one of them. He cups my jaw in his large hand, and I lean into his touch, nearly whimpering at the feeling.
I can’t remember the last time anyone touched me. Probably not since my gran died. My eyes fall closed without my permission, and he drags his thumb along my cheek. It feels like he’s tracing the edges of my birthmark. My natu
ral reaction is to recoil, to try to hide my face from him because I’m sure he’s been looking at it far too long. But it feels too nice to break the moment. I deserve just a few more seconds, don’t I? Something to cherish when he leaves Billow in a few days and never thinks of me again.
“Such a good, sweet boy,” he murmurs in a low, deep voice. Liquid heat replaces the blood in my veins and tightens around my groin.
His touch is gone too quickly, leaving me feeling cold and nearly desperate for him to do it again. I blink my eyes open and straighten myself. There’s amusement and warmth dancing in his expression. Is he laughing at me? Or is it an affectionate kind of amusement? I can’t tell and that cools some of the excitement inside me. For all I know, this is one big joke to him.
Barrett
It takes every ounce of restraint I have not to pull Sterling into my arms and shower him with the affection he’s clearly craving. But one thing our conversation over the past few hours has made obvious, is that I’m going to need to take it slow with him. He had blushed furiously when he admitted that not only didn’t he have a boyfriend, he’d never had one. I find it difficult to believe that no one else has looked at him and seen the sweet, handsome man I’m seeing. But another thing that’s become clear is how absolutely backward this entire town seems to be.
If I have it my way, I won’t be leaving here without him. But that’s going to take a hell of a lot of patience. Lucky for both of us, I’ve never minded putting in the extra effort for the things I want.
I lead Sterling out to my car, pausing with him as he locks the door, and then opening the passenger side for him so he can climb in. When he fumbles with the seatbelt, I allow myself the small indulgence of leaning in and buckling it for him. He sits so still as I reach across him, our bodies close enough that I can smell his sweat and the barest hint of cheap soap. If he lets me take him back to Vegas, I’ll make sure to stock the bathroom with expensive soap that will make his skin softer than silk. He can spend all afternoon pampering himself in the luxurious, oversized bathtub and then I’ll sit him on my lap and kiss every inch of his sweet skin.
My cock aches at the idea, my mind conjuring fantasies of the way he’ll whimper and moan as I take him apart, slowly worshiping his body.
“Barrett,” he says my name barely above a whisper, and I realize I’ve been crowding him for entirely too long. I ease out, closing the door and going around to the driver side.
He’s quiet as I navigate to the same street I took him down earlier in the day. This time he doesn’t make me stop in the middle of the road. Instead, he directs me to a small house just before the dead end. It doesn’t have any lights on, but there’s a car in the driveway with only three tires on it.
Sterling doesn’t get out right away, chewing on his bottom lip as he stares ahead at the house. I’m about to offer to take him back to my motel if he wants, even if that’s the exact opposite of the take it slow plan I just promised myself I’d stick to. He unbuckles his seatbelt with a click and reaches for the door handle.
“Sterling,” I say, reaching for him before he can get out and catching his arm gently. “Why did you say no to dinner?”
After the way he responded to my touch earlier, I’m sure he’s attracted to me.
“I told you, I don’t need charity,” he insists, and I grin. Oh, what a delightfully prideful boy he is.
“It wasn’t charity, Pretty Boy. It was a date.”
“A date?” he repeats as if he’s never heard the word before. I wait in silence while he processes the information, his eyebrows scrunching and unscrunching. “Oh,” he says after a few seconds.
“Can I take you to dinner tomorrow?”
“I…” His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and I bite back a groan, my mouth aching for a taste of his. “I don’t know.”
“Okay. Tell you what, why don’t I come by the bar again, and we can keep chatting. The invitation for dinner stands. You can take me up on it anytime, or not, it’s up to you.”
He relaxes in his seat, a smile spreading across his lips. “I’d like that.”
“Good. Now go inside. I need to get back to my motel; I’ve got a busy night of lying awake thinking about you to get started on.”
A startled laugh bursts from his throat and settles inside me. It’s a bit rusty, like he’s not used to laughing often, but it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
“You don’t mean that,” he insists softly.
My heart aches for him. He truly doesn’t see himself as worthy. That won’t do. More than seducing him, and more than getting him the hell out of Billow, my new mission presents itself—making Sterling see what a truly beautiful man he is.
Chapter 4
Sterling
I wake up with a smile I just can’t seem to shake. Not that I want to shake it, but I am still worried I’m getting ahead of myself, setting myself up for heartbreak. It’s hard to believe a man like Barrett could want to take me on a date. Although, if he was playing with me, I can’t imagine what his goal would be. I don’t have any money he could scam me out of, and he seems wealthy enough on his own anyhow. If he’s after my virtue, well, he can have it.
I huff a laugh at myself, slipping a hand under my covers and teasing the stiffness between my legs, my eyelids fluttering closed, my mind conjuring the memory of how warm and solid his hand felt against my skin last night. A fantasy plants itself as I slowly stroke myself, thinking about Barrett with his fingers wrapped around my cock, playing with me just right, his gravelly voice in my ear telling me what a good boy I am.
A whimper bursts from my lips, my whole body tingling at the ridiculous, impossible thoughts. I bury my face in my pillow, working my hand faster, rocking my hips and biting my lip to hold my gasps and moans. The fantasy changes to one where Barrett’s arms are around me, holding me against his body, his hot lips burning my skin as I helplessly rut against him while he fills me up with all the kind words he can think of until I’m overflowing with them.
My desperate sob is muffled by my pillow as my toes curl, and pleasure burns me up from the inside out, my cock pulsing in my fist and painting my bare belly with streaks of cum.
I lay panting for a few minutes, my body nearly numb with pleasure overload, trying to figure out why I was stupid enough not to give him an answer last night about the date. Even if all he plans to do is take me out to a fancy dinner somewhere and then have his way with me before blowing out of town without a backward glance, I can’t see much wrong with that.
If he really does come by again today, I’ll accept his offer for a date. With that decided, I throw back my covers and get out of bed. I grab a t-shirt out of the hamper to clean myself off and then dart into the bathroom for a quick shower.
Once I’m clean and dressed, I peek into mama’s room. My heart jumps into my throat when I see her bed is empty and unmade, a piece of paper on her messy nightstand.
“Not again,” I mutter, slipping inside and picking up the note. I read it frustratingly slow, unsurprised to find that she’s met someone who promised her a better life and has left town with him. It’s the second time this year.
I laugh without a shred of amusement, crumpling the note and shoving it into my pocket. I wish someone would whisk me away from this godforsaken place. You can bet I wouldn’t be coming back like she surely will.
My heart is heavy as I make her bed and tidy her nightstand as well as the rest of her room, tossing out a dozen empty bottles and opening the window to air it out a little. Where she met a man when she don’t go nowhere but the liquor store is beyond me.
Worry and resentment war inside me, neither feeling all that good. I wish my gran was still around, she always knew what to do when mama would “take one of her constitutionals” as gran always called it. But all I can do is keep doing what I do every day, working and keeping the house, and hope she comes back in one piece once this new beau of hers gets bored.
I wish I had Barrett’s
number so I could call him. The thought surprises me. I hardly know the man, even if he did talk my ear off last night about everything under the sun. But I feel like he could make me feel better right now when I’m so dang low.
The only thing that gets me through most of the day is Barrett’s promise he’d come by the bar again tonight. I hold his words close to my heart and keep myself busy tidying the house until it’s time to walk to work.
Barrett
I feel like a nervous teenager getting out of my car outside the bar. The butterflies in my stomach and the giddy grin I can’t seem to get rid of are completely foreign to me. I’ve had plenty of boyfriends, a handful of boys I’ve played with, a few even semi-serious. But I can’t remember a time I’ve ever felt like this.
With a bouquet of carefully picked flowers clutched in my fist, I push open the door and step into the bar. The swelling on Sterling’s cheek is worse than yesterday, and his shoulders are sagging as he works, despair or exhaustion radiating from him, it’s difficult to tell which. He looks up, and his expression slowly morphs into a tired smile that warms me all over.
He doesn’t notice the flowers until I thrust them forward, my heart pounding as I wait for his reaction.
“Barrett,” his voice is full of awe as he says my name.
“I stopped by a field on the way into town and picked them myself, so you can’t accuse me of any kind of charity,” I inform him sternly, fighting a grin as his cheeks and the tips of his ears pink.
“Thank you, they’re lovely.” He strokes a finger carefully over the blue petal of one of the wildflowers and then grabs an empty glass, setting it on the bar and filling it with water for the flowers.
“You’re welcome.” I take a seat and ask for a soda this time. There are only two other people in the bar at the moment, seated at the far end, deep in their own conversation, so once Sterling brings me my drink, I don’t feel too guilty monopolizing his time.
Pretty Boy Page 3
