Page 115 of Wishing Hearts

“Stud,” he says at last, voice hoarse. “I gotta come. I can’t—”

I laugh again—God, the way he makes me feel—and pull out slowly as Sam breathes a sigh of relief. A trickle of my cum works its way down Sam’s thigh as I watch, and I groan at the sight of it.

The first time we did this—fucked bareback in the shed—was almost a year ago. But damn, did I become addicted fast. It’s not something we can do often, mainly because it’s always a risk when Winnie’s around. But she’s with my parents tonight—at least for the time being—so Sam and I get to let loose.

I like our idea of romance. Sex in the shed. Cake and beer after Winnie goes to sleep. And what Sam now refers to as Harrison ropin’. I’m an especially big fan of that last one.

“Turn around,” I tell Sam before he can start jerking himself off. I want him in my mouth tonight.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He spins, I drop down, and the moment his cock is in front of my lips, I suck him in. Sam slaps his palms back against the tool bench, his hips hitching forward, and it’s all over from there. He stutters out a groan, his long-held-off orgasm detonating, and his release splashes across my tongue. I swallow him down greedily, holding tight to the firm globes of his ass.

“Fuck,” he finally says, muscles relaxing and chest heaving.

I give his softening cock a gentle suck before letting him go. “Turn around,” I tell him again.

He groans but does as I ask, turning and bracing his elbows on the tool bench. He spreads his legs without a word, and I trace my tongue up his thigh, all the way to his asshole, swiping up the cum running from his body.

He rumbles out another “Fuck.”

Christ, do I love making him purr.

I give his ass cheek a little nip before standing. “Come on. Let’s go clean up.”

He doesn’t argue, and five minutes later, we’re in the steaming-hot shower, washing the dusty, sweaty excursion off our skin. Sam is humming, which I find so adorable I can’t help but grin in response. He squints his eyes open from underneath the shower spray when I give him a hand soaping up, and a smile lights his face.

“So, what’s next?” he asks. “Are we breakin’ into that cookie dough tube you hid in the vegetable drawer?”

I huff a laugh, spinning Sam so I can wash his back. “Not quite. I have other plans.”

“Oh, you do?” he says, a suggestive edge to his voice I don’t miss.

My heart rate kicks up, but I force a slow breath through my body. “Yep,” I say, slapping his ass. “So let’s go.”

After Sam and I get dressed, I send a quick text to my parents, and then I lead him downstairs toward the back door. He looks confused as we head back into the yard, but he follows easily, Tigger and Piglet at our heels.

Piglet, as it turns out, is not a teacup pig. She’s now eighty pounds and stands nearly as tall as Tigger’s shoulders. But the pig integrated into our family with ease, and both she and Tigger have taken to spending nights in Winnie’s bed. Winnie doesn’t mind the extra company one bit.

It’s fully dark when we all pile outside, and thankfully, it’s a cloudless night.

“What’re we doin’?” Sam asks as dog and pig take off running after bugs or shadows or who-knows-what.

“You’ll see,” I tell him, dragging him along to the treehouse. Sam chuckles when I head up the ladder, but he follows me without question. When I get to the top, I stoop inside Winnie’s fort, reaching up to open the moonroof. I plant my back against the big trunk in the middle of the treehouse once I’m done and wait as Sam joins me. We’ve never come up here before, just the two of us.

We’re quiet for a moment, Sam looking up out of the roof at the stars above. My pulse hammers in my ears as my fingers drift over the box in my pocket.

“Sam,” I say gently.

He turns his head toward me, a small smile on his face. He looks delicate in the moonlight. Soft and beautiful.

“Do you remember that first night we went camping in the backyard, over a year ago?” I ask.

He nods, his eyes creasing at the corners. “Yeah, o’course. Why?”

“I never told you this,” I say, my mouth dry. “But I heard you talking to Winnie that night. I heard you talking about wishes.”

“Yeah?” he asks, looking more curious than anything. I wonder if he even remembers what he said. The words that have been stuck inside my head ever since.

“I like the starlight. It’s like…hope. It’s full of wishes. Those stars come out at night, and I look up at ’em and see my future. I see all the things I want my life to be.”

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