Page 50 of Sweet
“Sounds good to me.”
After we both walk to our vehicles, I follow Bailey out to his place. I’ve never actually seen the house aside from pictures. That’s how far back from the road his home is set on the property. After a slightly bumpy and twisty ride down a driveway long enough to be a private road, we reach our destination. He parks in the pebble driveway near the front porch and there’s more than enough space to leave my vehicle beside his.
“Nice place,” I say upon exiting my car. He’s got a two-story farmhouse that’s definitely older than both of us combined, but in great shape still.
Bailey thanks me and I do not mention the whole “you had me drop you at a different address last time” bit. Bringing me here is clearly a huge leap of faith on his part, and I’m not going to make him even more nervous. We climb creaking wooden steps to a screen door and Bailey walks right in to an open floor plan. He’s got a modern farmhouse meets log cabin interior. Except the furnishing appears more logical and less homey, as if intentionally following a stylish trend.
“Didn’t realize the honey business was so lucrative,” I mumble.
“It’s not. Pays the bills, though.” Bailey takes his coat off and hangs it by the door.
“That’s such a rich person thing to say.”
“Not rich. I’m—”
“I swear, if you say comfortable, I’m slugging you.” I laugh and he chuckles with me.
“Okay. I’ll be upfront. I got lucky. A young couple bit off more than they could chew, and halfway through renovations they moved back to the city. Bank foreclosed and I got this place for a steal. But I also worked my ass off from the time I was thirteen and hoarded about every penny of it for this to happen.”
I hum and take off my shoes by the door and follow him over to a couch set in front of a wide flatscreen. “So, what do you want to watch?” Bailey asks while he grabs the remote.
“There’s a new thriller streaming that I wanted to see.” Actually, horror, but I’m not sure he will agree if I say so. We spent the entirety of the last one making out, so I never got to enjoy him curling into me out of fear. I’m despicable, I know.
“Okay,” Bailey readily agrees.
“And I’ve got another one of those ideas,” I say with a smile, eyeing all the furniture he has to divide the space.
“Oh?” Bailey chuckles. “Am I allowed to know this time, or do I have to endure another surprise?”
“Was the last one so bad?”
“No.” He smiles. “I trust you.”
“Good, but I’ll tell you anyway, because I’ll need help.” I take his hand in mine. “Any chance you’d want to build a blanket fort?”
Bailey suppresses his surprise and still fails terribly to convince me when he says, “What… uh… what makes you think I’d want to do something like that?”
“Forts are fun.” I shrug. “Not to mention cozy. And sometimes romantic.”
“And make popcorn?”
“Sure! Why not?” I thread our fingers together while gazing into his eyes, and he lights up brighter than a galaxy of stars. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing Bailey happy. Likereally and truly happy and not just a charismatic and charming customer-service type façade he puts on all the time. The kind of happiness where he doesn’t stop to think about it or how he should react.
Over the next hour, we get building. Bailey drags out a mattress pad for the floor and uses some extra thick blankets for even more padding. He gives me a whole stack of sheets and clips to construct the sides and roofing. Soon we’ve got an excellent fort made, with enough space for both of us to comfortably sit or even lie down if we prefer. Bailey goes to the kitchen to make popcorn on the stove with real butter while I lean back against some pillows we brought inside our cozy hideaway and flick through the new releases. The only light comes from the television until Bailey’s silhouette cuts across the screen. He sets a large bowl down first, then crawls in the fort to snuggle beside me. Oh boy. I hand over the remote and he presses play without any reservations before tossing it down between us.
Maybe thirty minutes into the movie, when it’s undeniable we’re watching a horror flick, I get the reaction from him that I’d hoped for. Bailey’s arm coils around my waist while he presses himself into me, not hiding his face but burying himself closer for security. I dip a hand beneath the hem of his shirt, comforting him while gently tracing his spine with my fingers. A small sigh escapes and he stays relaxed, which is a pleasant surprise, considering he’s proved himself to be hit or miss with physical contact. Or maybe I should say, he can’t always decide if he wants to agree with his body or keep fighting the pleasure he’s feeling. And tonight, he’s agreeable.
Bailey eases into my touch and sinks closer and closer until his lips brush my neck. Maybe he really is hiding now. I’m about to ask him if he’s okay when I realize how close my hand is to the gap at the back of his jeans. I’m expecting a whimper whenI plunge my hand inside. His body snaps closer to me as usual, except he’s rock hard now and the sound he emits is more of a groan of sexual frustration than anything else. His hips rock against me again, and he sighs right in my ear from the friction, making my cock swell, too.
Without an exchange of words, Bailey pivots and swings a leg over me. His hips roll against me with sudden urgency while he brings his lips to mine. All of that feels impossibly good: having him so close, his tongue probing my mouth, and my cock grinding at the rigid bulge at the front of his jeans. The desire igniting in him plays out like the stuff of my fantasies.
Bailey gets harder with each thrust of his pelvis against me until he works himself up so much he pants into the sliver of space between our lips. His fingers creep up to my nape, curling inward when he finds nothing to grab then settling on either side of my neck. A thumb strokes up my throat from my clavicle, and all of a sudden, I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I’ve wanted to fuck Bailey. He whimpers in the way I love so much when I grab a tight fistful of his hair, sending shivers of excitement through us both. He’s always had that effect on me. And now that I have this much of him, I only want more. Maybe Bailey has wanted more, too.
Bailey tears at my clothes and I’m more than happy to oblige, as is he when I’m fumbling with his belt. I’m about to ask if we should head to the bedroom when I decide I can’t even wait that long. Floor will do.
As soon as I get his jeans off, I nudge him back onto the padding and blankets beneath us, then bury my face between his thighs. His back instantly arches in response, but he keeps his legs open for me this time. I want to lick every bit of him and then some, until he’s writhing for more. His thighs jump when I wrap a hand around each one, almost the way someone does when ticklish. Instead of more squirming, he settlesmomentarily before releasing a sharp breath when I drag my tongue across his hole.
Just when I’m internally lamenting a lack of lube potentially limiting our options, Bailey claws toward his pants then gives up and frantically points. I take the hint and reach his jeans for him and—would you look at that. Travel size lube stashed in a front pocket. Someone wants to getfucked, and he came prepared.