Page 113 of Wayward
“Fuck, Sassy,” I groan, my cock pulsing as I come hard, filling the condom. Her body draws every last drop of pleasure. I slow my movements, my chest heaving as I catch my breath. I rest lightly on her back for a moment before pulling out.
I’m about to stumble across the room to get things to clean her, but Zane, Sam, and Easton are already on it.
I roll to the side and take her hand. I kiss each knuckle. “I love you.”
“Love you.” Her blue eyes flutter closed.
If someone had told me that after working around the world, I’d be back in Pittsburgh cooking at an overrated restaurant on the hillside of Mt. Washington, overlooking the city skyline, I’d have pushed them off the incline. But here I am. Well, not working at a glorified prom and cheap wedding venue but a food truck.
It’s the best damn food truck, well, this side of the Allegheny River at least. I’m working on getting a permit for some other counties. It’s only for a year. And fuck if my favorite thing isn’t parking my truck outside of one of my uncle’s job sites so he has to see the bags with my name on it every time he pulls up in his oversized little-dick truck.
My food truck is a mixture of everything I love. A good amount of recipes come from Anan’s restaurant, but there are lots from all over the place. Fusion at its best.
This was just going to be a hobby. One to keep me from having to babysit my sister’s kids every damn day. I don’t mind watching them. But Sassy loves them and stops studying to play with them every time they’re over. And they love her even more than me . . . but Sassy needs to study. She’s too much of a giver. Not that I minded last night. We bought a few duplicates of our favorite things from our room in Miami. Damn, now I’m getting hard.
I turn to my new truck manager. “You’ve got this?”
“We’re good. Get out of here while you can. I don’t want Calvin coming and looking for you again. He scares the shit out of me.” Todd finishes up an order and puts it in one of our compostable containers.
“He’s not the one you should be afraid of,” I say.
“He’s not?” The kid looks up, fright in his dark brown eyes.
“Nope.” I’m not telling him who, though. That our billionaire has become extraordinarily possessive of all of us.
“Okay. Well, have a good night, boss.” He nods and grabs the next ticket to wrap up.
There’s four people in the truck now. And we could use a couple more if there was room. In the last two months, I’ve been approached by two restaurateurs, but that’s not what I want. We’ve only landed here temporarily. A year and a half in total. Zane’s only taking classes that transfer back to Miami.
I open the back door of the truck. There’s a healthy line from the window on the sidewalk.
Movement catches my eye from a few picnic tables down. We move the truck at night to a lineup of trucks in a park.
I quickly step toward the bench. “Who are these two little monsters?”
My niece and nephew are covered in ice cream. It drips from their chins to their knees.
“What did you do?” I turn to Mario, the owner of the ice cream truck behind us. He laughs and waves. “Did he dip you in the chocolate fountain?” I pat the top of each of the twins’ heads. I look around, but I don’t see my sister. “Where’s your mom?”
“Grandmom brought us,” Mary says.
“She’s talking to Haley over there. Told us to not move a muscle or this is the last ice cream of the summer,” Michael adds, his eyes going wide.
“Yeah, don’t believe everything Grandmom says.”
“She said you’d say that.” Mary licks her fingers. My niece is too much like me.
I step away from the sticky, adorable second-graders. Damn, how did that happen? I walk toward Haley and my mom. I don’t like the body language going on. Haley has on her stew face, and Mom is talking with her hands. Her back’s to me. Haley sees me approaching and her eyes widen.
“Dante!” Sassy pulls me close.
My mom’s been cool with everything. Honestly, she’s thrilled I’m alive but even more thrilled that I’m not going to die on my own. But most of all that there’s the possibility that there might be more grandchildren in her future. When I told her we were moving to Pittsburgh, she cried so hard she had to hang up the phone and call me back.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” I ask, kissing Haley’s temple before turning to face my mother.
Her hands freeze mid-gesture, and she turns to look at me, her eyes wide with surprise. “Dante! I was just . . . catching up with Haley,” she says, her voice a little too cheerful. I know her well enough to know she’s hiding something.
“Catching up about what?” I ask, my eyes narrowing as I look from her to Haley, who seems to be studying the ground intently.
