Chapter 24 - Shannon
Shannon
“Perfect,” I mumble to myself, adding the final touches to the area where my glamping pods will eventually be, or in my case, a pod, and a plane.
Dad popped over last week and cut the grass ready for the planning officer’s visit.
We’re not at that stage yet but hopefully in the next couple of weeks, we will know more.
It's the secluded part of my garden, boarded by tall hedges with just a small single archway, the only entrance inside. Private enough to give myself and future glampers their space. I shift the little table I picked up from the second-hand shop into the corner, under the string lights I’ve hung in case we decide to stay out a bit longer tonight.
The candles flicker in the light breeze as I add the finishing touches to the table, a strawberry print tablecloth and matching coasters.
I set down the covered food I made earlier, ready for when Wesley gets home from work.
Maybe I’ve gone overboard with the food, there’s enough for Wesley and his workforce tomorrow.
My phone rings with Talia’s name lighting up the screen.
“Shannon, I’m so sorry I’ve not called.” She practically yells down the phone.
“It’s fine, you’re not at my beck and call,” I reassure her.
“Anyway, I can’t be long but just wanted to know if you fancied coming with me to Spain for a few days?” How does she expect me to afford that? But she must know what I’m thinking. “All expenses paid? I can bring someone with me.”
I bite my lip because I’m not in a position to leave. “When do you go?”
“Next week. What do you say? One last break before you fully indulge in adulting?”
I scoff at her comment. “Bollocks, I’ve been adulting way longer than you.”
“True. So, what do you think?”
I sigh because I really can’t. “You know I would, but I’ve got the planning and house to finish.” I don’t want to tell her about me and Wesley just yet; it’s something I wanted to tell her to her face.
“Well, if you change your mind, you’ve got until next Thursday. Listen, got to go, I have another meeting.” She hangs up before I can say goodbye.
Looking over the food, I decided to go down the simple, easy route of pasta salad, roast chicken, and garlic baby potatoes. My stomach rumbles as I spread out the blanket and toss down a couple of cushions. When I hear Wesley’s truck pull up, I fire him a quick text.
I’m in the garden at the side of the house. Xx
His reply comes through instantly; he’s never made me wait longer than five minutes before texting me.
Give me 10 minutes. Xx
Setting my phone down on the table, I grab a bottle of beer and sit cross-legged on the blanket, taking in the empty space around me.
Once I’ve added some plants and flowers, and a proper concrete base has been laid.
I’ve not got a clue where to start, but maybe Wesley will give me some ideas on how to do it, or it’s back to online step by step videos.
I’m lost in planning mode when he walks through the arch looking fucking hot, as usual.
His beard’s a little thicker than normal, his hair still damp, like he was in a rush to get here. I’ll believe anything I tell myself.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He glances around, hands stuffed in the pockets of his shorts. “I like what you’ve done to the place.”
I dust the imaginary lint off my shoulder, chest filling with pride, which is a rarity for me. “I aim to please,” I preen.
“That you do,” he replies with a knowing look.
“I hope you’re hungry.” Patting the space next to me, inviting him to sit down.
He cranes his neck to eye the huge spread of covered food, giving his flat, toned stomach a rub.
Maybe I went overboard. Dad always told mum, he fell in love with her cooking first, which always earns him a scowl and also, I know mum couldn’t cook when she first met dad.
“You can always take what we don’t eat to work tomorrow.” Wesley drops down beside me, leaning back on his hands and stretching out his long legs. His grey basketball shorts low on his hips, and he’s already kicked off his sliders.
“Depends,” he says, eyeing the spread. “It all looks too good. I might eat the lot and pass out under the stars. He winks, gesturing to the star-shaped string lights overhead, they’re just starting to glow as the sun sets.
He helps himself to a beer, cracks it open, and takes a long pull. His throat works as if he’s been waiting for it all day. Wesley’s not much of a drinker, but he does enjoy a cold one after a gruelling day, and most of the time he’s outside in the heat probably… shirtless.
I’m being extra naughty today, thinking about earlier in his office, and I may have got myself off at the thought of how he looked when he orgasmed. God, he looked wrecked and stupidly hot.
“I take it those pallets are your flat pack plane?” he asks, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. Suddenly, I want the ground to swallow me whole and never come out. Wesley reads me too well.
“Hey,” he says gently, reaching out to wrap his hand around mine and his fingers lace through my own.
“If you’ve got the plans, I’ll take a look over the weekend.
” He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.
It’s such a simple gesture but means more to me than I know how to explain, I don’t feel like a huge failure.
At least Wesley doesn’t make me feel that way.
“Thanks, I’d appreciate it.” God knows I’ll need all the help I can get.
“Whatever you need,” he says. “I can help when I’m not working.” He glances around before looking back at me.
“You’re gonna need a base, though. But I can help you with it. It’s no problem.”
But to me it is. I can’t expect him to work all hours then help me. “Wesley, you’re not going to work, then spending your weekend building my project, especially when I know you’re not really into the idea.”
He shifts closer, wrapping his arms around me.
“Hey.” He kisses my cheek. “It’s not something I’m over the moon about, but it’s yours, sweetheart.” He smiles. “Besides, if you want it, I’ll build it for you. I already told you that.”
He’s honestly one of the sweetest men I’ve ever met.
At first glance, you wouldn’t think it, he doesn’t come across as the approachable type.
When we first met over a year ago, he had a genuine kind smile.
But then everything went sideways for him, and he became a bitter version of himself.
Lately, these past few weeks we’ve grown closer… I’d like to think he trusts me.
“It’s going to be perfect, sweetheart.” I’m still surprised by how easily he’s taken the idea of potential strangers’ glamping in my garden, and not only that, but he’s actually willing to help me build it, even if he’s not a fan. But I promise to make it up to him in every way I can.
“How’s the house coming along?” I ask.
He blows out a breath. “Dec’s offered me more work.”
“That’s great… right?”
He nods, but before he can answer his stomach rumbles. “I’m really fucking hungry,” he says, patting his stomach again. Can this man be any sexier? His words are innocent, but the way he says them… I almost want to open my legs and say, Well, what are you waiting for?
Stop it Shannon.
Wesley clears his plate, then goes back for seconds. I’ve no idea where he puts it all, but I smile, knowing he enjoyed what I cooked.
“Been a while since anyone cooked for me,” he says, placing the plate aside before stretching out on the blanket, tugging me down beside him. “Thank you for dinner.” My head rests on his chest, over the steady beat of his heart, as his fingers lazily tangle through my hair.
“I’ve made peach crumble,” I whisper.
“I’ll definitely make room later for your peach pudding, Shannon.” He drops his hand and cups my arse giving it a squeeze.
“Do you want to go inside?” I ask quietly, my own fingers wander beneath his soft T-shirt, trailing across his stomach, then drifting lower over the small patch of his happy trail. I bite my lip as my eyes drop to his shorts, noticing how his cock twitches against the fabric.
“We don’t have to go inside…” he rasps, then leans down to kiss my head. “Nobody’s going to see us out here.” He traces his fingers along my arm. “I love it when you touch me, Shannon.” His voice dipping lower, sending a shiver straight through me.
“Are you hoping for dessert now?” I tease, slipping my fingers just inside the waistband of his shorts. Wesley lets out a low, hungry sound in his chest, a sound I feel as much as I hear.
“I want you,” I whisper against his skin, fingers sliding lower until they brush over his thick, hard length.
He exhales a strained breath. Then he moves, flipping me over, onto my back, his hips settling between my thighs.
I’m wearing loose shorts, chosen on purpose, for easy access.
I’m a bad girl, but I’m not the least bit ashamed.
He slings one arm over my head, dipping his fingertips to brush my forehead, his body weight deliciously heavy on top of mine.
Lifting my head, I kiss his full soft lips, his beard grazes my skin enough to make me shiver. Wesley slips his free hand between my thighs, tugging the fabric of my shorts to one side before trailing a finger through my wet heat. I’m soaked for him.
“Commando… again?” he says, a smile curves his lips. “This seems to be a habit of yours, Miss Newton.” His thumb grazes over my clit. “Walking around with a bare pussy.” He shakes his head like I’ve done something wrong.
“Is it bad that I was hoping to get lucky?” I bite down on the corner of my mouth. He drops his head, mouth crashing into mine.
His tongue sweeps in, tasting me, tangling with my own. Then he slips a finger inside me, while his thumb strokes soft circles over my clit.
“I love how you respond to me, sweetheart.” He pushes his finger in deeper. “Your cunt wet and tight, soaking my fingers.” I tremble as he slips in a second finger, my core clenching, gripping him tightly.
“Wesley… please,” I breathe, my whole body humming with need, desperately aching for more.
Nature then decides to intervene on my perfect little set up. The first fat drop of rain hits my forehead, then another, until the sky opens up and pelts it down. Thunder cracks overhead as we both lie there, staring at each other, soaked to the bone, knowing we should go inside.
Wesley slips his fingers free and I hate the sudden loss of his touch.
He climbs off me then jumps to his feet pulling me up.
We make a mad dash, grabbing what we can, the food, blanket and whatever else we can carry between us, thunder rumbles again as the rain comes faster, harder, soaking everything in its path.
The string lights flicker, and the candles fizzle out.
“Come on, I’ll come back for the rest,” Wesley yells over the rain clattering on the pallets.
We leg it past them, falling through my front door, dripping wet, trying to catch our breath, eventually falling into laughter.
We dump the food on the small island and toss the blanket on the floor.
Our clothes cling to our skin. Wesley’s white T-shirt is practically transparent, stretched taut across his broad shoulders and defined abs.
His tattoos and chest hair look like faded works of art behind frosted glass. Glancing down at myself… of course, I may as well be standing here stark bollock naked.
Did someone say wet T-shirt competition? I must have missed the memo and gone straight for the full-body version.
Suddenly, I don’t feel sexy anymore.
And now isn’t the time for ugly to rear its head.