Page 106 of The Falcon and the Foe

“Hey, it’s the Ryanator!” Russ hi-fived Ryan, the store’s general manager, a mid-fifties man with Harry Potter glasses. “How are Yvette and the kids?”

“Oldest one comes home for fall break this weekend.”

“They grow up so fast.” Russ clapped him on the back.

I was utterly nonplussed, so nonplussed that I scanned the baking powder twice.

“Oh, I have a coupon for that.” Russ handed over a clipped coupon from the paper. I snapped it out of his hand. He bit back a chuckle, my confusion bringing him a sinister amount of joy.

“What?” he asked innocently. “You’re not the only one in this relationship who’s friendly with his boyfriend’s co-workers.”

“I’ve worked with Jasmine for two years, and she never lets me call her Jazz,” I said loudly enough for her to hear.

“Maybe this can make it better.” From his laptop bag, Russ pulled a small Tupperware container containing three Little Caesar pizza slices. “I got you dinner since you’re working late.”

I put my hand over my heart, overwhelmed with emotions. And hunger. Because even though it was shoved inside a plastic fortress, the aroma of Little Caesar’s pizza still found its way up my nose.

“I told the boys if they finish all the homework as soon as they get home, then I’ll take them to the batting cages.”

Josh had been going back to Russ’s house after school, giving Edith a well-needed break. Russ worked with the boys on their homework, planned fun excursions to parks, and made homecooked dinners. Coming into Russ’s house and joining them at the kitchen table was a highlight of my day.

“Did Josh tell you he got an A on his spelling test?” I asked.

Russ’s face lit up, as if he were the one who aced it. He pumped his fist in the air.

News like this was becoming more common. His teacher emailed me to let me know how much Josh was improving. The praise heaped on him never got old.

“Nineteen sixteen,” I said, reading the register.

Russ inserted his credit card into the reader. “Do you have any breaks coming up?”

“I get a fifteen-minute break at the top of the hour.”

“Good.”

Two minutes past the top of the hour, I was in Russ’s car in the corner of the parking lot, facedown in his crotch, mouth stuffed with his dick. He clamped a hand over my neck.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunted.

Salty pre-come hit the back of my throat, and wiry pubic hair tickled my nose. Russ bucked his hips to get further inside me.

“Don’t forget to sign Josh’s permission slip for the field trip next week. Fuck,” he said as I tongued his balls.

“I need to teach him how to forge my signature.”

“Jesus.” Russ rolled his eyes. “Put my dick back in your mouth.”

Tension choked his voice, which revved my engine even more. He was probably struggling to maintain a relaxed face in case anybody walked past the car. He found it inappropriate for strangers to see his O-face.

I licked up and down his long, thick shaft. If I’d known Russ was packing this much heat, I wouldn’t have made him my enemy. Or, at the very least, I would’ve propositioned him for hate sex.

“Fuck, I’m coming.”

And come he did, emptying himself into my mouth. He gave me the all clear, and I sat up, licking my lips.

I popped a mint into my mouth. Not because I didn’t like the taste of him, but because I didn't want come breath at work. Customers would not appreciate that.

Russ looked over at me, his face flushed with color and life, a stark contrast to his neatly pressed button-down shirt and khakis. He was my Mr. Darcy with a wild side. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

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