Page 38 of Vodka And Virtue

“What? No! I’m exactly where I want to be. And with who I want to be with.” He twisted his fingers in his lap. “I’m just not sure what the rules are?”

“The rules? I’m not sure there are any.”

“Rules of engagement. If I kiss you, does that automatically mean I want to sleep with you? It doesn’t when I’m with women, and I just don’t know… I’m not trying to lead you on.”

“I believe they call that a cock tease. And it’s the last word I would use to describe you.” I laid my hand on his forearm to reassure him. “Carly, I will always ask your consent before I touch you. There’s nothing wrong with saying no. It doesn’t mean ‘not ever’, it just means ‘not right now’.”

He nodded and took a sip of his drink.

“Do you want to know what I think about when I lay in bed at night?” I teased with a coy smile, raising my eyebrows.

Carlisle laughed, almost choking on his tea. I was glad to have lightened the mood.

The sun had already begunto set by the time we walked out into the garden. The air felt alive with the sounds the bugs made. Dusky pink light filtered through the trees as the gentle wind rustled the leaves. I led Carlisle through the rows of raised beds I had crafted with my own hands.

“This whole bed is all tomatoes. Four different varieties. Over here, I have zucchini and snap peas. And in this bed,” I turned him toward the last one in the row, “I planted carrots and peppers.”

“Wow. You have a little bit of everything. Did you buy the plants or start them from seed?”

“I started everything from seed except the peppers. I’ve been growing them in a makeshift greenhouse in the kitchen window for most of the winter. I only transferred them to the ground a few weeks ago.”

He knelt in the grass, without a care for his jeans, and sifted a handful of the rich soil through his fingers. “Did you compost this dirt?”

I laughed because he sounded so impressed. I wished I could take credit for it. “No. I bought it from the local nursery. I haven’t been here long enough to establish a good compost pile yet in time for this season, but hopefully, I’ll have one next year.”

He touched the new leaves on the pepper plants, gently rubbing them between his fingers. I knelt behind him, my hands on his waist. “It brings me so much satisfaction to see you enjoying my hard work.”

“Are you kidding? I wish I had a garden like this. I would love to grow fresh things for my cousin to use in his cooking.”

My lips brushed over the shell of his ear. “Will you let me cook for you with the things that grow from my garden?”

He shivered, and I wrapped my arms around his stomach, drawing him closer to the heat of my body. Carlisle sagged against my chest, tilting his head and baring his neck for my mouth. I sucked an open-mouthed kiss onto his smooth skin, and he panted, clearly getting wrapped up in the sensation. He fell forward, planting his hands into the soft dirt, his bottom pushing against my dick. I followed, covering his back with my larger body. My hands slid up his parted thighs to cup his groin.

Carlisle moaned. “Rory. I can’t—I’m—”

“Do you want me to stop?” My words were a breathy whisper carried away in the wind.

“No. God no. Don’t stop.” He reached for his buckle, but I stopped him.

“Keep your hands in the dirt, Carly. They’re filthy. Let me do it for you.”

I made quick work of his belt and the zipper, teasing the short hairs of his trail, following it down into his briefs. Slowly, I slid my hand inside.

“Wait, you’re not gonna—we’re not—”

“No, sweetness. We’re not. I just want to touch you, like this. With you helpless and at my mercy.”

“Fuck, Rory. It won’t take long.”

“That’s okay. It doesn’t have to.”

I wrapped my fingers around his shaft. He was rock-hard and hot, his skin velvety soft. Carlisle’s dick was thin and long, and I imagined how easy it would be to swallow around his girth when he was buried in my mouth.

I combed my fingers in the short hairs surrounding the base of his dick. His breath hitched, and he nestled his lips in my neck, nipping, kissing, and just breathing against my skin. My fingers trailed down his length to the tip.

“Fuck. You’re wet.”

I stroked his shaft slowly, gliding my fist down to the base and back up to the crown, smearing his precum to help ease my hand. My lips found his—a messy, passionate tangle of our tongues that made me as hot and hard as he was.

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