Page 103 of Kismet

Fuck me.

“Please… come in me, Stone. I need to feel you.Allof you.”

This must satisfy him because he growls before pounding into me harder two more times before his body tightens up and he spills into me.

He stills, but doesn’t pull out, as he moves to lay kisses along my slick back. Our breathing eventually evens out, and when he pulls out of me, I can feel his cum drip out. It’s an odd feeling, but I don’t hate it. I can’t explain why, but when I turn to face him, my cheeks heat and I feel… shy? I’m wide open and vulnerable, but it’s not like we haven’t done this before.

“Are you okay?” he asks wearily, hands on my hips.

I nod my head as I wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his neck and inhaling. “Yeah, I’m good. Let’s shower and then we can go grab breakfast. I’m starving.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Stone Philips

The alarm buzzing incessantly in my ear is grating on my nerves. Five in the morning came entirely too soon. Not that I wasn’t already awake. I’ve spent the last hour lying here, staring at the ceiling, replaying all the many moments I’ve spent with Cash in the last half a decade.

It’s been just over a week since I was last at Cash’s house. Nine days, to be exact. Friday night—and then again Saturday morning—was nothing short of amazing. Mind blowing, actually. While I didn’t leave with us on bad terms, I can’t help but still feel a littleehabout where we stand. My mind can’t help but drift back to the conversation we had over breakfast after I ravaged him in his kitchen. The same way I’ve been replaying and analyzing them every single morning since.

“I think we should talk about last night… and this morning,” Cash says, shoving a forkful of hash browns into his mouth. The innate way he has the ability to make eating shredded potatoes look sexy is beyond me.

“Okay, I’m listening.” Bringing the champagne flute to my lips, I take a swig of the mimosa while my stomach twists and turns into painful knots, wondering if this is where he ends it all before we even have a chance at our beginning.

“First, I want to preface this by saying I appreciate greatly everything you told me. None of that could’ve been easy, and I appreciate it.”

It’s his turn to take a drink. The three seconds it takes him to sip and swallow before he speaks again feels like an eternity. I drop my hands from the table into my lap to keep the tremor in them from being obvious. He doesn’t need to see how terrified I am of what he’s about to say next.

His eyes avert for half a second before they lock back on me. “That being said, I’m gonna need some time, Stone. This isn’t me saying no. This isn’t me turning away and saying never. But I need time. And I need it away from you, because when you’re in the picture, I can’t fucking think straight. My brain turns to mush when you’re around, and all I can think about is when I can get my hands on you again.”

“Really?” I smirk, cutting him off. “Right now?”

“Yes, you smug bastard.” He laughs. “Even right now. I know I’m not the only one who can feel the magnetic pull we have with one another, and I’ll never be able to think and make a clear decision if you’re working your sexy, older man voodoo shit.”

This pulls a full belly laugh from me. Head thrown back and all. “Sexy, older man, voodoo shit?!”

“Shut up.” His cheeks pinken as he shovels a hefty bite of pancakes into his mouth, narrowing his eyes because I’m still laughing.

I run my hand down over my mouth to try to hide my smile, but if the way his eyes narrow at me is any indication, I’m not fooling anyone. “Okay, okay. Sorry. Continue. I will turn off my voodoo shit.”

“I just need space. That’s all. Doesn’t mean we’re going to pretend to be strangers if we see each other at work, but I can’t have you coming over to my house. Not yet. As much as I enjoyed last night… and this morning. Okay?”

I won’t lie, it does sting, but I can respect it. And I do understand it, even if it sucks.

“Okay. I get it and I can respect your space. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to talk.”

I’m dying for the day he calls me, or finds me, or texts me to tell me he’s had enough time thinking and he’s ready to be with me. Wishful thinking? Probably. But what’s that they say about manifesting? What you put into the world, you get back? Well, I’m putting us being together into the universe, so if it could boomerang right back to me as soon as possible, that’d be fucking great.

Thankfully, there hasn’t been complete radio silence. We’ve texted here and there. Usually at least once or twice a day, and it’s notalwaysme initiating the messages, which makes me feel good. Still… grabbing my phone and seeing no messages waiting for me irritates me more than it should.

I haul my ass out of bed while trying—but failing—to not obsess over Cash and the way his ass felt gripped around my cock, completely bare. Because yeah, that’s something that’s lived in the forefront of my mind all fucking week.

It takes me longer than it should to get ready for work since I had to rub one out in the shower, but I’m able to make it to the aquatic center to leave Cash his morning coffee before he’s finished with his swim. I even had just enough time to watch him swim a few laps before I had to leave, so he didn’t catch me.

He obviously knows it’s me who’s leaving the drinks every morning, but it’s kind of this unspoken thing between us at this point.

Spring break is in a few weeks, so finals are coming up, which always means meetings ramp up too. I spend most of my day in various meetings with the board, parents, and staff. By the time I have a chance to breathe and look at the clock, it’s time to go. Being it’s Monday, I hop in my car and drive over to Molly’s. It’s been an unusually cold winter here, which makes riding my bike to work a hassle. Can’t wait for the nicer weather to hit.

Molly opens the door for me before I have a chance to knock, an apron wrapped around her. “Hey, baby bro.”

---