by E. Davies
Yes. Yes, this is amazing.
“Mmm,” I sigh with happiness and slide my hand around his lower back until I’m holding him, too.
This first kiss is gentle and slow, but I don’t want it to end. I can hardly breathe. I need more—I need him in ways I’ve never allowed myself to open up to anyone.
Tag finally pulls back, the tip of his nose just brushing mine. My lips are tingling and sensitive still, and my head is definitely spinning. Good thing I’m still tucked in the crook of his arm.
I finally manage to let my eyes flutter open, smiling giddily up at him.
“Good?” Tag whispers.
I giggle, because I don’t know what to say. “Um… duh,” I echo myself from just moments ago. But this time I’m satisfied, glowing with happiness.
Tag grins. “Agreed.” He gently pulls away, but he keeps his arm where it is, and I lean into him with a contented hum. It’s awkward trying to keep my balance, and I can’t stop imagining how nice this would feel on a couch.
“Glad I didn’t listen to my brothers,” I murmur.
“Mm?” Tag raises an eyebrow.
I raise my hand to cover my face. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but my brothers thought you might be a crazy woodsman. You know, some serial killer who’s going to… feed me to your bees.” I grin and bite my tongue, waiting to see his reaction.
Tag’s brows pull together as he gives me a dismayed stare, like he can’t decide whether to say what he’s thinking. “Bees don’t… eat people,” he finally says, his voice strained.
I burst out laughing. “That’s the wrong detail to correct,” I tell him. “Your face, though.”
“Oh, you.” Tag flicks my chest and I swat his hand away with another laugh.
“I’m not a fighter. I’m a lover. And I love sweet things.” Tag gazes steadily at me, his eyes flickering to my lips and back to my eyes.
I tilt my face up and lean in, boldly pressing a brief kiss to his lips. It makes me tingle when I hear the way his breath catches in a quiet growl, like he’s barely holding himself back.
When I pull away and manage to catch my breath, I steady myself once more. “So you’re a serial lover? Playboy?”
Damn it, I hope my brothers weren’t right. But no way. If he just wanted me in bed, he could have skipped the last few hours of conversation and propositioned me.
I might have even said yes, too. He is impossibly hot.
“Wait. No,” Tag groans. “That’s the wrong impression. Trust me: there’s not a lineup out the door.”
I snort with amusement. “Really?” He acts way more experienced than me. “You don’t get out much, either?”
Tag hums and fidgets with my curls, which makes me want to purr like a kitten under his touch. His eyes are distant. I want to touch him and make him forget whatever memory he’s lost in. “I used to sleep around a lot, don’t get me wrong. But then I just had enough. I came here to settle down on my own. Or… I thought it would be on my own. But I guess I’m lonely.”
“Me too,” I murmur. “I’ve just been holding back for so long. Waiting for exactly the right man. Afraid of making a mistake and letting the wrong guy in.”
Tag nods slightly. “Well, in my experience, we learn the most from our mistakes. But for the record, that kiss definitely wasn’t a mistake.”
I grin. “No, I don’t think it was. I meant it.”
“Me too.” Tag runs his finger gently along my jaw. “And I don’t think another date would be a mistake either.”
Yes! I could almost faint off my barstool. “Let’s prove it ASAP, please. Like, tomorrow? Is that too fast? Because I’d say breakfast date if I didn’t have work.”
Tag laughs, the sound breathy and affectionate. “Agreed,” he chuckles. “Tomorrow night is too far away, but we’ll make it somehow.”
“By texting each other all day?”
“Deal,” Tag whispers and kisses me again. This kiss lasts so long that I think I see stars bursting in front of my eyes.
When he finally pulls away, he calls the taxi for me, and it takes me about a minute to remember how to speak out loud.
“Thank you for tonight,” I finally murmur. “I really enjoyed it.”
“Me too.” Tag helps me to my feet and even holds my jacket to help me get dressed up. “We’ll text tomorrow and decide what we want to do, huh?”
“Perfect.”
Tag leads me out of the meadery while Queenie stays close by our feet, sitting alongside us to wait until the taxi arrives.
“Here you are,” Tag murmurs. He opens the door for me, then leans in to kiss me once more—this time just a brief hint of what tomorrow might hold. “Good night, Caleb.”
“Good night, Tag.” I lean down to scratch Queenie. “And to the most important girl, of course.”
Queenie whines happily at me, and then trots away as Tag closes the door.
I smile all the way home, clutching my phone with both hands.
Ten minutes later, just as I stumble through the door of my apartment, there’s the text.
Tag: Let me know when you’re home safe. xxx
I grin and briefly forget I have to take my gloves off to reply, jabbing at the screen and cursing it. “Oh. Right.” I toss my gloves and coat into a heap on the floor, kick off my shoes, and twirl my way to bed before collapsing on it, clutching the phone to my chest.
I’ve had the best night of my life, and I have the feeling it’s only going to get better from here.
Thank you, fairy godmother, wherever you are.
Me: Home and happy. xox
Tag: Me too. Good night, Caleb.
Me: Good night,
I respond and press the phone against my chest, closing my eyes to bask in the gooey warm happiness that floods me from head to toe.
Then I shuck my clothing in a few heartbeats and slip into bed. I can’t resist poking my phone to wake it up and stare at the messages one more time before sleep takes me.
9
Tag
It’s too early in the season for much to go wrong.
After four years of keeping bees, I can lift a hive and instantly tell how it’s getting along this winter. As I check on the group of hives tucked in beneath the trees at the bottom of my property, nothing really raises my attention.
Which is just as well, because I don’t have much attention to spare.
All I can seem to do today is think about the date and daydream about how perfect we are together.
Caleb was absolutely adorable last night. Everything about him captivated me, from chattering about his least favorite class in high school to telling me all about his parents’ deck project.
His family sounds big, fun, and a little overwhelming. I’ve never met a boyfriend’s parents before—when I was on the road, my relationships never lasted long. This is a whole different ball game. But I’m not going to overthink it yet.
Caleb seemed to genuinely really enjoy himself, and I’m so glad. I just want to see him as happy and confident in every area of his life.
My pocket vibrates again and I mumble a curse under my breath. I think it’s Caleb, but I don’t dare unzip my coat to find out. I’m not in a full bee suit, and I’m not even wearing gloves right now because the bees in the hive are all in hibernation.
I’m almost done here, so I just awkwardly heft one last hive and set it down again, breathing out heavily from the exertion. Good. Lots of honey left there. All the girls should be fine until my next check.
I stride back toward my house. Normally after a summer’s day working in the hives, I might stop at the little lake at the bottom of the gentle slope. I like to sit on the stone bench and watch bees landing in their favorite mud patch for a drink.
Not in winter, though. I’m much more interested in getting inside for a hot shower.
As I make it inside, Queenie comes up for her hello scratches. “How about you warm up my hands?” I suggest. The Labrador’s warm nose presses for a moment against my f
ingers before she high-tails it out of there. “Coward,” I call after her, but she has no regrets about curling up in front of the fireplace.
I rub my hands together briskly, throw another log on the fire, and then clumsily pull out my phone.
Caleb: Lunch break on my own today. :( I could use something sweet to liven it up.
I grin to myself and type out a response.
Me: I hope you don’t mean me.
Caleb: Ha Ha. I was thinking of a drink. But if you’re offering, I definitely mean you.
My eyes widen as my grin only gets bigger. Caleb’s naughty side is awakening, and I love it.
I wander toward the stairs, heading up for the top floor and my master bedroom, with its en suite and blissful hot shower. But I barely pay attention to the stairs, busy pecking out a response as quickly as my cold fingers allow.
Me: For you, I am absolutely offering taste testing. Name the time and place.
Caleb: Let’s start at the Maple Factory. They have maple sugar, you know. Lots of uses for it.
A little grunt slips from my throat as my eyes fly wide open. Oh my God, that’s the last thing my sex-starved imagination needs. Now I’m going to have six boner-filled hours to contend with.
My phone goes off again.
Caleb: Did I scare you off? ;)
Me: Exactly the opposite. Good thing I didn’t have any more work planned today. You’re very distracting.
Caleb’s message pings back straight away.
Caleb: Taking that as a compliment.
Me: Oh, it is.
Fuck. I’m already tingling from head to toe. I close my bedroom door at the top of the stairs, then toss my phone on the bed and shrug off my cold jeans and hoodie. Then the layers of shirts come off until I’m standing just in my underwear.
Caleb: After supper at the Maple Factory for some of that sugar you’re promising?
Me: I’ll be there,
I promise, my breath catching in my throat. As I set my phone on the bed again, I run my hands down my hips, thumbs catching my underwear to peel that last piece of clothing off.
My cock springs out, standing to attention against my stomach. I’m hard already, quivering with anticipation. I’ve been ignoring my own needs for a few days now, and it won’t wait any longer.
“Yeah,” I whisper, gazing down at the phone screen as it goes dark. Then I wrap a hand around the stiff shaft. “He plays innocent, but he knows exactly what he’s doing.”
And goddamn, I want him.
I keep a firm grip on my aching shaft as I walk to the marble-tiled bathroom, stepping into the spacious, glass-walled shower. I step out of the way of the water and turn the water to hot.
There’s no way I’ll be able to focus tonight if I don’t indulge myself now. The arousal that throbs through every inch of me, straight into the pit of my belly, burns brighter at the thought.
It feels forbidden to fantasize about this man I hardly know, but in a way, that makes it more exciting. I want him bad.
I’ll take it slowly in real life. He’s a sweet little guy, and if he hasn’t dated anyone… he might well be a virgin. Either way, he doesn’t want to rush things, and I respect that.
But alone in the shower, I can’t stop the filthy fantasies from running the show.
I groan and step sideways into the hot water, leaning back against the shower wall. The spray from the pulsating shower head caresses my body, and if I close my eyes, I can just about imagine Caleb’s hot little hands running over me instead.
“Fuck,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut. The thought of lying on my bed while he licks maple sugar from my bare skin should be silly. But instead, I’m really goddamn turned on.
I can just about feel Caleb’s tongue exploring around my nipples, his hands gently running up my thighs as he sucks the sensitive nubs. Then, he’d follow up with heat of his tongue running down my stomach as my cock bounces greedily in the air.
I close my hand around myself and tug on my cock, letting my fingers tighten around the shaft all the way to the head before I slide them back to the base again.
Then I start stroking myself, a groan escaping. The rising steam floods my nostrils until my head spins, and my body is surging to life at the touch of Caleb’s velvety-soft skin on my rock-hard cock.
Caleb’s hand would be smaller than mine, delicate, but I can just see the wicked little smile on his lips as his innocence slips away to reveal his true desires.
“Yes,” I hiss. I imagine myself looking down, seeing him naked and on his knees in front of me. His pretty lips close around the head of my cock, making heat surge through me. His other hand rises, cupping my balls and squeezing gently.
“More,” I beg, the pace of my hand speeding up. “Please, Caleb. I need you.”
Caleb whimpers, choking on my cock but greedily bobbing his head to take it deeper. His tongue slides around my shaft, teasing every nerve ending awake until every inch of me seems to burn.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I pant. The end is rushing close all too quickly. I want to let the fantasy play out for longer, but I’m on edge and desperate. “Yes, Caleb!”
My climax hits me like a freight train, blackness sparking behind my eyes as I squeeze them closed and roughly thrust into my hand. My load sprays up into the air, landing on my belly before the water washes me clean.
“Yes,” I groan, long and low. My hand keeps moving gently, massaging the last few drops out before I let go and flatten my hands on the wall behind me.
It takes all my energy to push myself upright. I wince and turn away from the stream to let my semi fade away while I finish a cursory shower.
I’m still woozy with happiness by the time I make it out to the bedroom. I grin slowly and sit on the edge of the bed, closing my eyes. Holy hell, the things I want to do to this man blow me away.
Then I pick up the phone and see Caleb’s answer.
Can’t wait.
I laugh softly to myself and finally force myself to get dressed again, this time in something decent I can wear for the date this evening.
Yeah, me neither.
10
Caleb
It doesn’t bother me that Tag goes quiet in the middle of my lunch break. I have a sneaking suspicion I know what’s keeping his hands full, and it makes me shiver with delight.
I love knowing that he wants me. I might even be brave enough to experiment some more tonight. But I’m not brave enough to lock myself in the office bathroom while I explore those thoughts, so I have to push them away for now.
It’ll be worth the wait later.
I’m spending my lunch hour at my desk instead of going to a coffee shop with my coworkers. It’s not an accident, either—I packed a sandwich and a flask of coffee this morning.
Today, I have something to keep me busy.
I might not be able to quit my job and live as a traveling poet right now, and maybe people are just being polite and pretending to like my poems, but that doesn’t mean I should give up on writing new material. I can keep trying to do better.
This morning, when the alarm stirred me from a delightful dream about Tag, I decided that I’m going to work hard at this. Once a week, I’ll stay here and write poems instead of spending an hour nodding and making sympathetic noises while coworkers talk about their kids.
It’s a quiet little office, with just ten of us working here. My corner of the office is tucked by the window that faces the street. I’ve covered the windowsill with plant pots, and the cubicle walls in photos from the Black Claw trails and parks further afield in Vermont.
When work gets stressful, I can look up at a little piece of nature and let the other part of my brain out to play for a moment. Sometimes I’ll even stare at the stark beauty of nature instead of the computer screen while my fingers move on autopilot through spreadsheet fields.
That’s where most of my poetry comes from: imagining myself there and yearning for something I can’t quite touch from what feels like as far awa
y as possible.
It’s not a bad place to work. It’s just… a cubicle, and there aren’t a lot of good poems to write about cubicles. Trust me, I’ve tried.
Hunched over the page as I scribble words and cross them out, I lose track of everything around me. I’ve already set a timer for ten minutes to one o’clock so I can get ready for my coworkers to return.
There are no great works of art coming out of my brain yet, but it’s been a while since I really sat down and focused on writing poems instead of writing only when inspiration strikes.
I rest my chin on my fist and stare into space at my cubicle wall as I try to keep my attention. I’m trying to write a poem about the tasting room, but everything just comes out sounding like a real estate description.
I want to capture the essence of last night: delicate flavors bursting on my tongue as we explored each other, both before we started kissing and after. Maybe what I’m really trying to write is about that kiss.
Oh, man. What a kiss.
I’ve kissed guys, usually while drunk at the bar on New Year’s Eve. It’s never been like this. This time, I didn’t find myself wondering what’s so attractive about lips smushing together.
I was too busy losing myself in worlds I didn’t even know existed within my head, enjoying the flames bursting to life within my chest and the desire that welled up.
Fire? Fire and alcohol? And wooden barrels? There’s got to be some image there I can work with.
But it’s so hard to form words when all I want to do is write volumes about Tag’s eyes and the way his eyes crinkle a little at the edges when he smiles, and how surprisingly soft his beard is.
