Chapter 128
Ethan
I check my watch again.
Tilda messaged me earlier asking if she could bring me lunch.
Of course, I said yes. And she said she was on her way.
And now I need to find a way to track her location, because the fact that she should’ve parked four minutes ago has me spiraling over all the things that could’ve happened to her between her house and here.
“Fuck it.”
I pull my phone out of my pocket and call her.
It rings twice, then I see her.
I’m behind the ticket counter in the Visitor Center, standing at the opening that separates the office from the public space. And I have a view straight across the center to the front doors.
She’s on the other side of the glass door, walking toward me in a white sundress. And she looks like a goddamn wet dream with her legs and tits on display.
The phone rings again, reminding me that I’m calling her.
Tilda stops, reaches into the floral tote bag she’s carrying, and pulls her phone out.
She smiles as she answers. “Hey, Ranger.”
“Hey, Starlight.”
She glances back toward the parking lot. “Did you move?”
“Nope.”
She looks at the door. “Are you in the building?”
“Yep.”
“So… Why are you calling me?” She takes a step forward.
“You were late.”
She pushes the door open. “I’m right on time.”
I hear her in stereo through the phone and through the space between us.
We lower our phones, and Tilda doesn’t break stride as she crosses the room to me, grinning.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the tall countertop as I wait.
Tilda’s eyes bounce around the space, taking in the displays of merchandise, looking at the walled-off office area all while she smiles at me.
Seconds later, which feel like an eternity, she stops on the other side of the counter. “That’s a fancy hat.”
I keep my expression even. “It’s called a campaign hat.”
“Right. Of course.” Tilda says it seriously as she slowly lifts her hand to her forehead. In a salute.
I clench my jaw, resisting the laugh, and start to slowly lift my hand.
Tilda’s eyes widen. “Oh my gods, are you gonna do it back?”
I drop my hand. “No. Now get back here.”
Tilda drops her hand and mock glares at me. “Party pooper.”
“Uh-huh.” I step back from the desk. “Door’s back around the side.”
Dressed in my tan flat-brimmed hat, button-down shirt, and green pants, I walk the fifteen feet to the back of the office, past the low counter with the computers and rolling chairs, to the door.
A functional office with plenty of space for Tilda to have lunch with me. And if she wants to hang out for a while afterward, she can do that too.
I hope she wants to stay.
I open the door that leads into the back hallway, and a second later, Tilda steps through.
She sets her floral bag, which must contain food, on the counter, then does a turn. “This is nice.”
“I’ll give you the tour.” I gesture to our surroundings. “This is the back half of the office.” I place my hand on Tilda’s back and walk her to the spot with the pass-through, where we’d been talking a moment before. “And this is the front half of the office.”
Tilda looks up at the overhead rolling door that can be pulled down to meet the counter, closing off the opening. “I feel like we’re in a concession stand.”
I nod. “Basically the same thing. Except we don’t have nachos.”
“A shame.” Her gaze focuses on my hat. “I really like the hat.”
“I’m glad.”
“How come I haven’t seen it before?”
“We have to wear it when we’re working in official buildings. But not when we’re out in the field.”
“I want to wear it.” Tilda reaches up and pinches the brim of my hat. “While I’m riding you.”
She gives the brim the smallest tug, and I feel it in my balls.
“I like that idea.” I grip Tilda by the waist and pull her closer.
She lets go of my hat. “Good.” Her fingertips touch my shoulder, then drag down my chest. “Where is everyone?”
I flex my fingers against her sides. “We’re short-staffed today. And the morning rush of visitors has died down.”
“So… no one else is coming back here?” She drags her touch down to my stomach.
I shake my head. “Very unlikely.”
“Good.”
“Why is that good, Firecracker?”
Her fingers reach my belt. “Because I figured out what a big blow job is.”
My cock pulses to life. “And what is it?”
“Doing it someplace special. Or dangerous.” Tilda stares up at me, bites her lip, then lowers to her knees.
“Fuck. Tilda.”
She sits on her heels, back to the wall below the counter.
The counter comes up to the bottom of my rib cage, and the flat surface is wide.
Plenty of space for people to set down the items they want to purchase.
Plenty wide to hide the fact that a woman is hiding below.
And with the walls surrounding the cutout, it means Tilda is invisible to anyone outside the office.
There are no cameras in here.
No reason for any of the few other employees to show up.
Tilda presses her hands to my legs, just above my knees. Then slides them up. Slowly. Firmly.
I stare down at her, my dick already straining against my zipper.
“Tilda.”
“Hands on the counter.”
On her knees, with lust in her eyes, Tilda is completely in charge of me.
Tilda is always in charge of me.
I place my palms on the counter.
“Good Boy.” Tilda sits up and presses a kiss against my fly, over my cock.
“Fuck,” I groan, as she places her palm against my bulge. “I don’t think I’m gonna last long.”
She grips the tab of my zipper. “That’s part of the big blow job.”
“Coming fast?”
Tilda nods and starts to pull my zipper down.
The sound of it in the silent room makes me even harder.
And fucking hell, I’m glad she’s expecting this to be fast. Because it’s going to be.
This is the first time I’ll be in Tilda’s mouth.
She’s offered before.
And I’ve wanted to before.
But my impatience over wanting to fuck her always wins.
And now that it’s happening, it doesn’t matter that we’re in public. I can’t stop her.
I don’t want to stop her.
And whether it’s here or at home, there’s no way I’ll be able to withstand the pleasure for long.
Tilda drags my zipper all the way down.
And the front door opens.
My head snaps up, and I take a small step forward.
My stomach presses against the counter, and I hear Tilda’s quick inhale of surprise as I crowd into her. But I can’t let anyone see her. Not like this. Not on her knees with sex in her eyes.
And I really can’t let this guy see her.
The man in question lifts his hand as he and his wife walk into the Visitor Center. “Howdy, Ranger Dickhead.”
A snort comes from under the counter, and I clear my throat to cover the sound. “Rocky. Mature as ever.”
His wife grins, getting the joke.
“And that’s why I call you a dickhead.”
I grunt in reply.
Tilda places her hands back against my thighs.
I grit my teeth to keep from groaning as she slides her hands up higher.
She goes up. Then down.
“Joe sends his regards with the latte,” Rocky says while spinning the postcard rack.
“What latte?” I focus on the couple with nothing in their hands, not on the hands rubbing up and down my thighs.
“The one he told me to bring.” Rocky shrugs and turns his attention to the stickers. “But I don’t take orders from that old man, so you can get your own latte if you’re thirsty.”
I grunt again. Because Tilda’s hands are moving higher. And higher.
Rocky stops beside Kendra in front of the T-shirt display.
One of Tilda’s hands grips the side of my pants, holding the material to keep her balance. And then her other hand…
I grit my teeth as her fingers slip through my open fly.
My button is still done, and my belt is still on, so she can’t get my dick out. But she can reach in.
Her fingers are warm through the cotton of my boxer briefs.
And I feel my dick pulse with the contact.
I clear my throat. “Can I help you find something? Like the door? No offense, Kendra.”
Rocky points a finger at me. “Dick. Head.”
Yeah, Rocky. I’m fucking trying.
Rocky drapes an arm over his wife’s shoulders. “We were out running errands. Needed to use the bathroom.” He shrugs. “Figured I’d come use mine.”
His.
I shake my head.
Tilda’s touch disappears. And I open my mouth to ask how Buddy is doing. But then Tilda’s hands reappear. On my belt.
I hold still as she tugs at the leather.
And I hold my breath as she moves to my button.
With my pants open, Tilda palms my dick through my boxer briefs.
Then her other hand grips the elastic band, and she starts to tug down the only barrier between my cock and her lips.
And my pulse climbs.
Tilda’s fingers trace over my barbell before they wrap around the base of my cock. Skin on skin. And she holds it tight as she pulls my dick free.
My knuckles turn white as I grip the edge of the counter. And if Rocky walks any closer, I’m going to have to reach up and pull down the overhead door.
Warm breath ghosts over my sensitive skin, and then a tongue licks my tip.
“F—” I clear my throat. Again.
“Yeah, yeah, we’re leaving.” Rocky holds up his middle finger as he heads toward the front door.
“Bye, Ethan.” Kendra waves at me.
I lift a hand, holding it up as they leave.
Tilda’s lips close around the head of my cock.
The door closes.
And I drop my hand, my fist thudding against the counter. “Fuck.”
Tilda’s tongue swirls around me. And she hums.
I black out for a heartbeat.
Then I step back.
I have to step back.
I need to see.
The movement pulls me free of Tilda’s mouth, but she chases me.
Her hand is still around my base, holding me steady. And her other hand clutches my thigh.
She shifts forward on her knees, and my jaw goes slack as she sucks my dick into her mouth.
She’s so pretty.
So perfect.
So fucking hungry for it.
Her cheeks hollow as she sucks.
The pressure in my balls builds.
I let go of the counter with one hand and reach down, gripping a handful of her hair.
Her tongue swirls again.
I tighten my hold, the backs of my fingers against her scalp. “Matilda.” Her eyes flutter, and she looks up at me. “A big blow job means I’m putting my dick all the way down your throat.”