Canvas (The Program Book 1)

by N. M. Catalano

  I’m sure my eyes are bugging out of my head.

  This man surely is NOT calling someone to come fix my fridge for me!

  “Around lunchtime?” He glances at me, “Is that going to work for you, Summer? Can he come by around lunchtime to have a look at it?”

  I nod my head numbly.

  What am I going to say? No, I don’t want to cough up the dough and leave the fate to my nemesis in the hands of some karmic god, hoping that I’ve done enough good stuff to give me a free pass? Embarrass myself and him and say no?

  “That would be great, Joe,” Mr. TD&I, who I now know is named Rock, tells Joe on the phone. “Stop by the shop if you’ve got time when you’re done and let me know how it went. Thanks a lot, dude. See you later.” Rock hangs up and shoves the phone in the back pocket of his jeans, which I notice are blue today, and his t-shirt is white. He looks like a rock star who’s about step on stage in front of a thousand screaming fans with his hair hanging down over his face, confident and dripping sex.

  Does this man NOT look good in anything he wears? Never have I seen ANY male fill out a plain white Hanes t-shirt as perfectly as he does. And are those nipple bars I see outlined? Yes, please be yes!

  “Joe’s a client, he owes me a few favors. And, before you even think about arguing with me, write up a list of supplies you think you might run short on and I’ll pick them up. Consider this a grand opening present, since I must have misplaced my invitation.” He shrugs, “Better late than never, right?”

  There’s that perfect freaking smile again. On a perfect freaking man. With possibly perfectly pierced nipples.

  Who IS he, swooping in and rescuing me…yet again? And what did he do with the manwhore from yesterday?

  “I can’t accept that…Rock?” am I supposed to call you that?

  He laughs. It’s sexy, mind numbing, and absolutely toe curling.

  Stop. Just stop right now, Summer!

  “Rock is short for Rocco.” He extends his hand to me over the counter, “Hi Summer, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Rocco, your neighbor. Would you like to paint with me?” He winks.

  “Ahhh, there’s the guy I met yesterday.” I shake his hand, still a little flabbergasted with what just happened, the whole civil servant thing, and maybe a just a teensy tingly and happy with the reappearance of the sex dog. “Nice to meet you too.”

  “You can accept it. The guy’s probably happy to get rid of some of the favors he’s got out to me that’ve been hanging over his head, afraid of what I might ask him to do. Look at me, do I look like someone who’d ask for something unscrupulous?” he grins devilishly at me.

  Another flippin’ toe curl.

  “Honestly?” I ask, cocking my head at him and smirking.

  “Of course, honesty always.” He’s just too delicious for my own good.

  “Um. Yes, yes you do,” and I’m very happy about that.

  He pulls me closer with the grip he still has on my hand, forcing me to bend over the counter toward him.

  Oh God, what is he going to do? Don’t look at his crotch, Summer, don’t look at that huge bulge, don’t do it!

  Instantly the image of his, what appeared through the bulge in his pants yesterday, VERY generous meatsicle flashes in my mind that I’ve been fantasizing about nonstop. Would it be really thick? Yes, absolutely. Would the head be just perfect? Definitely, not at all disproportionate. And long, so long that…

  Enough, Summer!

  Bringing my face closer to his, “There are so many varieties of unscrupulous, Summer. I’m going to enjoy exploring them with you,” he whispers in my ear as electricity surges through me. He squeezes my hand lightly, and I can swear he felt it too.

  THAT right there sounds like every woman’s wet dream come true.

  Yes, please, and thank you! You and your penis, please, doing so many unscrupulous variety of things.

  Am I panting? I must be panting. I hope I’m not salivating.

  Mrs. Merriweather, who’s been sitting here for the past thirty minutes, speaks up. I’m sure she’s been waiting for Mr. TD&I, (I do like that name, but I like Rock too, and Rocco, it would sound so good when I scream it out). She chimes in with her very lyrical voice and breaks the connection between me and Rock.

  “Summer dear, get that man a coffee on me. Young man, come ‘ere and sit with an old woman,” (I think Gwendolyn’s going to fall out of her chair next to Mrs. Merriweather).

  I smile mischievously into his face, like the sweet old woman and I have a wicked secret.

  “You’d better go, she can get very, very naughty,” I taunt him.

  “Oh, really,” he whispers back conspiratorially. “What about you? How naughty can you be, little Summer?” his eyes glint at me.

  The image of his penis flashes in my mind again, so vivid I can practically feel it in my hand, and in my mouth.

  Stop, stop, stop!

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” I smirk. “Now you’d better go, I’ll take the coffee to you. You mustn’t keep a woman waiting.”

  “What about a man? Anticipation is a good thing…up until a certain point. The longer a man waits, the more animalistic he gets. Remember that, sweet thing, each time you tell me no. Because when you do say yes, and you will, you’ll pay. For every. Single. No.”

  Holy shit! I think I just self-combusted!

  Him, animalistic, primal, and taking me.

  YES!

  Legs wobbly, heart palpitating, uterus exploding, is it possible to come just by the power of suggestion? Because, holy cow, I think I just did.

  “Mighty big promises, Rock.” My stupid voice almost gave away my inner lustful turmoil.

  “I’m a mighty big man, Summer. But you’ll see.” He winks again.

  Kersplash, there go my ovaries.

  Promise?! Oh, yes, please let him be big!

  He lets go of my hand as a slow and cocky grin turns up the corners of his sinful mouth, that mouth I was having all those lurid and filthy thoughts about. He turns to go to Mrs. Merriweather, but turns back to me and catches me ogling him. He grins. Damn that man! “In case you’ve forgotten, the coffee’s black.”

  I turn my back to him, trying to shove all those dirty thoughts about him from my head. Having nothing better to say, I mimic him under my breath in the most ridiculous and childish voice I can, “The coffee’s black,” then, because I’m, oh, so mature, I stick my tongue out.

  “I heard that, Summer.” Oh, no! “Is that any way to treat your favorite customer? That tally is adding up,” he chuckles.

  “Brut!” I mumble as I pour his coffee, contemplating all the things I can put in it. Not to kill him, that wouldn’t be any fun, but to give him some agony so I can enjoy watching him writhe in pain.

  It’s not pain you want him moaning and writhing with.

  Shut-up you miserable inner tart, nobody asked you!

  As I approach the table Rock is now canoodled up to the very wily Mrs. Merriweather at, Canoodle? Now I sound like her, she’s already grasping his hand in her arthritically bent one on the table.

  Traitor.

  “That was such a lovely thing you did for our Summer, Rock. And you ‘ave an absolutely brilliant name,” she’s beaming.

  “I like her coffee too much, I don’t think I’d like to have to go back to my sludge,” he shrugs his shoulders.

  Is he embarrassed from the praise? Is the big and bad tattoo man shy?

  “Don’t be so modest, my boy. That little twat, what was ‘is name Gwendolyn?” Mrs. Merriweather turns to her granddaughter who is sitting mesmerized by the god sitting at their table.

  Gwendolyn turns bright red now that she’s the center of attention and has Rock’s eyes on her, and was caught undressing Mr. TD&I with her eyes.

  “Steve,” Gwen chokes out.

  Rock throws his head back and laughs at Mrs. Merriweather’s very graphic, but very accurate, description of Steve the little twat. The little peckered twat.

  “Yes, Steve.” S
he turns back to the sex on legs man with her. “’e wouldn’t ‘ave even given our Summer’s plight a second thought, ‘e wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, I think I’m going to have to come and sit with you more often,” Rock laughs, plainly enjoying Mrs. Merriweather’s company.

  “I’ve got right much information, lad. Come and see me every day, I’ll be right ‘ere.”

  The Wifezillas from the book club come waltzing in. The minute they spy Rock sitting with Mrs. Merriweather and Gwendolyn, their transformation to inner slut bitches is instant.

  “Mrs. Merriweather, how are you today?” the Gran Damme saunters to the table with her entourage in tow.

  Oh brother! I roll my eyes and inwardly groan. Puuuhhhleeeez!

  “Splendid, ladies, absolutely splendid,” Mrs. Merriweather replies brightly, sticking it in their faces she has the stallion from yesterday at her table.

  I plop Rock’s coffee down in front of him and turn to get away before I get sick from the blatant show of female horniness, or is it whoriness. Whichever, if the shoe fits as they say.

  He clasps my wrist before I can escape.

  “Thank you.” His eyes are endearing as he stares into mine.

  It’s not what he says. It could have been anything, like ‘Rain is wet.’ It’s the fact that he’s looking at me, not the perfectly polished, manicured, tanned, botoxed, and siliconed Stepford Wives surrounding him.

  Me.

  “You’re welcome.”

  He smiles. That beautiful smile.

  I melt.

  Swoon.

  The tremors of the prior self-combustion kick me in the butt and revs me up again.

  Please don’t make me fall. Please. I don’t think I can’t take the impact when I crash. I can’t, no one can get close.

  Unfortunately, I think it’s already too late.

  ROCK

  CHAPTER 6

  Who would’ve guessed the best conversation I’ve had in a long time would be with an old English woman and her granddaughter in a coffee shop that belongs to the good girl I want to ruin?

  Mrs. Merriweather is charming and feisty, and is the perfect example of someone who realizes that once you reach a certain age you’re entitled to speak your mind without giving two shits. I fell in love with her immediately.

  If I were honest, I’d have to say it feels good to be open with a woman.

  That doesn’t happen.

  Ever.

  But obviously Mrs. Merriweather is safe, she’s matronly, like a grandmother I wish I had. She’s not intimidated by my dark and brooding appearance, it’s as if she doesn’t see it but looks past it to the person I keep hidden. The guy who likes things a hardened man wouldn’t.

  She’s bright and cheerful, her natural joy is contagious, and her witticism is like a sting you want to be bitten by. I loved it when she busted my balls about my ink, “Lad, tis a wee much, what ‘appens when that fine skin is old and loose? Ye’ll be looking like an old wet newspaper that’s been trampled a few too many times.”

  I loved everything about her.

  I’d come to work early to make up for the time I didn’t put in last night after the gang bang I walked out of. My feet just naturally made their way to Summer’s door of their own accord, my mind had to catch up. I found myself justifying the visit with trying to wear her down because of the game, (I refused to call it a bet, I hadn’t bet, and I wouldn’t give in to the fact that Bull had railroaded me into it). When I’d first entered and found Summer’s luscious ass up in the air, like it was waiting for me, I had to stifle a growl. Then when I’d gotten closer and saw all her soft flesh, the powder blue bra and thong, and the plump globes of her breasts swaying back and forth as she moved, I had to clench my teeth to fight back a moan. Finally, when I realized what had happened, I didn’t even think about calling Joe to come check out her fridge, I just did it.

  Not a big deal.

  But apparently it is according to Mrs. Merriweather.

  It seems ‘our little Summer’, again according to Mrs. Merriweather, is a loner and a bit of a secret just like I thought. No one knows where she came from, who her family is, if she even has any, or anything else about her. She’s a mystery. She just kind of appeared, at first she blended in here and there around town, then one day she was in here working on the place getting it ready to open. It just…happened.

  Of course everyone knew she was a new face in town. Riverbend is a small hamlet where everyone knows everyone else, but she kind of floated in like a butterfly.

  “Unlike you and your boys,” Mrs. Merriweather said.

  I had to laugh.

  “Oh, that was a day, wasn’t it Gwendolyn, when Rock and ‘is boys came into town,” she asked her granddaughter, who couldn’t stop blushing every time the conversation was directed at her like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Maybe it was because every time we looked at her, she was staring at my cookies.

  She managed to sputter her reply, “Y..yes

  Adorable. That is the only word to describe Gwendolyn, Mrs. Merriweather’s granddaughter.

  “What a day it was. Every one of you all loud and fearsome with your motorbikes,” she laughed again. “It was like the carnival ‘ad come in and everyone couldn’t wait to go for a ride.”

  I nearly spit out my coffee with her analogy.

  Well, not maybe everyone. Just the women who were hungry for a hard cock and a good fuck.

  I cleared my throat and laughed it off, “I’m sure we made quite a disturbance.”

  “Pfffffft,” Mrs. Merriweather waved her hand dismissively, “you lads woke up this boring place, it was a fine day when you came in.”

  “You’re being too nice,” I answered.

  She was starting to embarrass me.

  I couldn’t believe it.

  “Nonsense,” her attention went to the front of the shop and a smile brightened her face. “Look, Summer, Rock’s lads be coming in too.” I spun around to confirm it as a boulder dropped in my stomach. “What a fine day it’s turning out to be,” Mrs. Merriweather clapped her hands in fucking glee.

  Son-of-a-bitch! What the hell are they doing here?

  Bull, Snake, and Gringo walked in and smiled at me. I wanted to flip them the fuck off and tell them to get out, this is my place.

  Your place? Since when is a coffee shop ‘your place’?

  Since they put Summer on their radar for an orgy.

  Now we’re all sitting together like one big happy fucking family.

  The guys had pulled a few chairs up to our small table, (Mrs. Merriweather had insisted. I guess I was wrong about wanting to bear the brunt of her sting). It’s like fucking tea time, except it’s black coffee with an old English lady, four tattooed guys, and a shy young woman.

  Gwendolyn can’t keep her attention fixed on any one of us, her eyes keep darting back and forth from each of us, like she’s trying to take everything in.

  I think she’s overwhelmed.

  And don’t even get me started about the mom’s club. I can see their hard nipples through their flimsy shirts and can hear them whispering and giggling.

  What about Summer?

  She’s all business, our playful banter squashed, wadded up in a tight ball, and she took the free throw, that shit cleared the net and went right in. Slam dunk. Swish. Give the girl her point.

  Fucking gone.

  “It’s about time you boys started giving our Summer your business,” Mrs. Merriweather gives us each a chastising look.

  Bull opens his mouth to answer, but Snake cuts him off, (thank God, you never know what could come out of Bull’s mouth), “We wanted to come over with Rock yesterday, but he insisted we didn’t. Maybe he thought all of us together might be too much,” he looks at me. I want to tell him to fuck off.

  Asshole!

  “Nonsense, our Rock wouldn’t think any such thing.”

  I’m part of the ours now, am I? In your face, dickhead.

  I glance at Summer. H
er expression says she’s totally surprised by what the old woman said as she looks back and forth between Mrs. Merriweather and I.

  “Why would Summer not be able to take you four boys on at the same time?” the old woman innocently asks.

  I almost fucking shit.

  Bull grunts.

  Gringo coughs.

  Snake is fucking cool. The comment doesn’t faze him. At. All.

  I steal another glance at Summer. Her face is flushed and her pouty lips are open in the shape of an O. Her eyes bounce back and forth between the four of us. Until our gazes collide.

  I can’t stop it.

  My grin slowly grows.

  Her eyes get wider. And wider. And wider.

  I wink at her.

  I can see her suck in a breath. Then she spins around and busies herself with something, breaking our stare.

  “That’s what we tried to tell him,” Snake comments. “Maybe he just wanted to break her into our kind. I guess we can be a little overwhelming at first, all of us together.”

  Snake glances at me.

  I glare at him.

  Just shut the fuck up!

  “Oh posh, what do you think Summer is? Some innocent little girl who can’t ‘andle four big burly men? Ridiculous. She’d obviously surprise you.”

  I groan inwardly. Mrs. Merriweather is fucking killing me.

  “I completely agree with you. There’s nothing frightening about us. We’d take very good care of her. Right boys?” Snake addresses the guys.

  “Always,” Gringo smiles. He can’t hide his dark side.

  “Every time,” Bull grunts with a smirk.

  “Then it’s settled,” Mrs. Merriweather clasps my hand in hers again and pulls my attention away from Summer, who I’m sure wants to crawl under the counter. Fuck me, I want to crawl under there with her. “You’ll share our Summer with your friends, Rock. Don’t be selfish.”

  For fucks sake, woman, if you only knew what they want to do to her. What we want to do with her. Me too.