Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Max
Narrator: Well . . . who knew Atlas Maxheimer had it in him?
I mean . . . I did. The man might look and act like a cinnamon roll, but there’s a secret side to him only a few people know about . . . not even Cole.
Though I think Cole is about to find out.
Betty is sleeping, wrapped up in a swath of blankets with the fire still blazing in front of her.
I woke up during the night to feed it, keep it going, but I need to bring more wood from the den into the living room because we’re starting to run low.
I have plenty of wood but just need to rotate it.
With my phone in hand, I move toward the kitchen, where I start boiling some water for some instant coffee. Not my favorite, but it will do.
Leaning against the counter, I turn my phone on after powering it off late last night, and I go straight to my text messages, where I text Cole.
Max: She sat on my face last night, and I made her come.
There, that should get his attention.
Next, I go to the weather app to see what the day has in store for us.
More snow this morning, but then it should lighten up in the afternoon.
I glance out the window and see that we probably did get about a foot of snow.
Still no power, but I know the crew will be working on it as soon as they get to the roads, which will be cleared sooner rather than later.
I heard the plows working hard last night.
The one good thing about living in the mountains is that even though it snows a lot more than, let’s say Denver, we have a better plow system, and we can usually be out and about on the roads faster.
My phone vibrates with a text, and I smile as I open up Cole’s response.
Cole: Jesus, dude, the details.
Max: You want the details? Oh, okay. It started with her snuggling into me at night, a real one-bed situation, and then she stuck my hand up her shirt, and I caressed her breast. She has the sexiest fucking tits ever. I was hard as a stone.
Cole: NO! I DON’T want the details. Stop . . . just . . . stop.
Max: Well, that wasn’t very clear. If you plan to use sarcasm in your messages, you’ll have to be more direct.
Cole: It’s too early for this. Is the farm okay?
Max: That’s what you care about? The farm? I just told you she sat on my face, and you’re not going to say anything to that?
Cole: I don’t know why you’re telling me this. Storee is the one you’re in cahoots with.
Max: Huh, you’re right. Let me text her. BTW farm is closed today. Take the time off, I’ll let the employees know, and don’t worry, I’ll check on the reindeer. Also, maybe let your wife sit on your face today.
Cole: I don’t need your advice on where my wife fucking sits. She knows exactly where to sit when it comes to me.
Max: Yikes. Maybe have some coffee. You’re coming off grumpy.
I switch text threads and send a text to Storee.
Max: She sat on my face, and I made her come.
It takes about two seconds for Storee to respond, which is another reason I probably should have texted her first.
Storee: OMG!! SHE SAT ON YOUR FACE!!!! That’s so exciting. Was it the best thing ever?
Max: I want my face to be her seat for the rest of time.
Storee: You know, Cole has said something along those lines to me. Looks like you two have a lot more in common than I thought. Man, I didn’t think you’d be a face seater.
Max: Is that the proper term?
Storee: I’m making it. Seriously, I guess I never thought about how you would perform in bed. Let me ask you this . . . did you perform well?
Max: Can I be detailed?
Storee: Please.
Max: Clearly, I’m best friends with the wrong person. *Clears throat* I made her come twice last night. First time she dry-humped the fuck out of my cock, and then I came all over her tits.
Storee: Ooo, a dry-hump, cum-to-tit shot. That’s amazing. Did she like it?
Max: A lot. Even asked if that was me claiming her, and I said yes.
Storee: OMG, this is the sweetest thing.
Max: And then of course right after, I couldn’t contain myself and started playing with her again, but then she went down on me, and, Storee, I’ve never been sucked like that before.
Storee: I’m so happy for you.
Max: And then that’s when she sat on my face, and I played with her tits while fucking her with my tongue.
Storee: That’s so hot. How did you finish the night?
Max: Satisfied.
Storee: No, like . . . what did you do after you had her sit on your face?
Max: Oh ha-ha. We cuddled and now she’s still sleeping while I’m making some instant coffee and texting you.
Storee: Wow, what a night.
Max: The best part of it all is that she told me that she believes me, that she doesn’t believe what Dwight said. She doesn’t believe that I’m the man Dwight has said I am.
Storee: Wow, that might be better than the sitting-on-the-face situation.
Max: Ehh, I don’t know, I really liked her coming all over my tongue like that.
Storee: You dirty, dirty man. I had no idea. If you need some pointers, I have some good ideas . . .
Max: I’m not doing anything with a candy cane!
Storee: You say that now.
Max: No. But thank you for helping me. I really like her, Storee.
Storee: Aww, I’m so glad. What are you doing today?
Max: In my mind, hanging out, getting to know each other more. Checking on the farm. I first need to see if she wants to stay.
Storee: Pretty sure she’s going to want to stay.
Max: I hope so.
Storee: She will. But to secure the deal, bring her breakfast in bed.
Max: Do you think Pop-Tarts and instant coffee will be good enough?
Storee: What kind of Pop-Tarts?
Max: Cherry, of course.
Storee: Then yes, I think it will be good enough.
Max: Okay . . . off to please my queen.
Storee: AHHHHHHHH! Good luck.
Betty
The crackling of the fire is the first thing to wake me up.
The second thing is a thump sound, followed by Atlas swearing.
“Motherfucker,” he says under his breath.
I open my eyes and see him leaning over, wincing in pain.
Wrapped up in an immense number of blankets, I wiggle my head out just enough to say, “Are you okay?”
His eyes meet mine, and he replies, “Shit, did I wake you?”
“No, I was waking up,” I lie, because I don’t want him to feel bad. “What did you do?”
“Stubbed my toe on the coffee table,” he answers and then takes a seat next to me on the air mattress. “How did you sleep?”
I smile up at him. “Wonderfully.”
“Yeah?” His hair is askew, his scruff is thicker, and he looks all kinds of adorable in the morning with that smirk of his.
“Yeah, I did. You’re really good at spooning.”
“I taught myself.”
I chuckle. “Wow, you grew your face yourself, and you taught yourself how to spoon. Looks like I hit the jackpot.”
“Glad you see it that way, because you did.” He winks and then says, “I brought you breakfast in bed. And before I hand it over, I don’t want you to get your hopes up that banana pancakes and bacon are about to be placed on your lap.
I might have a fire going and a generator warming up some hot water so we can take quick showers, but that’s the extent of the luxury while the power is out. ”
“I’m just grateful I’m not a Popsicle frozen to my couch this morning.”
“Me too.” He nods. “Sit up for me.”
I untangle myself from the blankets and sit up only for him to place a cookie sheet lined with a dish towel on my lap. On top of the dish towel is an unwrapped Pop-Tart arranged on a plate, a cup of coffee, and a banana.
God, he’s so cute.
I smile up at him and say, “Cherry Pop-Tarts are my favorite.”
“Wait, really?”
“They are. Clearly the best choice out of all the options.”
He presses his lips together and then looks away. “That . . . that makes me want to have you sit on my face all over again . . . with said cherry Pop-Tart in your mouth.”
I laugh. “An odd fantasy, but I’d be game.”
“Don’t tempt me.” He gets up and heads back toward the kitchen.
“Where are you going?”
“Grabbing my tray. You’re not the only one eating a cherry Pop-Tart this morning.”
He heads back to the kitchen, and I start peeling my banana.
Clearly, Atlas has been looking after the fire overnight, because there’s a fresh log on it.
And he made me breakfast. It’s so thoughtful, especially considering reserves must be low.
I’ve had a few boyfriends here and there, but they’ve never treated me like this, and Atlas isn’t even my boyfriend, just a guy who likes me.
“Not going to stub my toe this time,” he says as he comes around and takes a seat on the air mattress next to me. “How’s the coffee? Instant isn’t always the greatest, but it’s the best I could do.”
“Haven’t tried it yet. But I bet it’s not as bad as you think it is.
” I lift the mug up to my lips and take a sip, only to shiver from the muddy taste.
“Oh . . . oh my God.” I cough and he takes the mug away from me as I quickly take a bite of my banana to get the taste off my tongue. “That’s . . . that’s horrendous.”
He chuckles. “Sorry. Should have warned—it’s an acquired taste. I can grab you something else.”
“No, it’s fine. Don’t get up again. I have some water that you brought over from last night.”
“You sure? I can make you some tea.”
“I’m sure,” I say, placing my hand on his leg. “Seriously, you don’t have to cater to me, Atlas.”
“I just want to make sure you have everything you need.”
“I do,” I say with a shy smile.
He points at me. “Are you . . . are you flirting with me?”
I push at his hand, causing him to laugh. “Not anymore.”
He takes my hand and brings it to his mouth, where he presses a sweet kiss to my knuckles. “I’m glad I can fulfill everything you need.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“So are you.”
“How am I ridiculous?” I ask as I wrap my lips around my banana—seductively—and take a bite.
His lips purse as he stares at me. “For the love of God, don’t make me hard when there’s a Pop-Tart on my lap. I’ll never be able to look at them the same.”
I let out a low laugh and then repeat, “How am I ridiculous?”