Heartsville 01 - Bookmarked (Piper Vaughn) (5 page)

“Yeah.” Shepherd nodded with a slight smile. “Can’t wait.”

“Me too. See you then.”

Mark forced himself to leave the office before he gave into the temptation to close the distance between them and do some more touching. He would’ve happily covered himself in Shepherd’s stink, had Shep been willing. Even sweaty and unkempt, he drew Mark in, especially now Mark knew the true reasons for his rudeness in the past. It wasn’t arrogance or scorn. It was social awkwardness, plain and simple. Mark understood how fear and anxiety made certain people lash out. Apologies went a long way in his book, especially when delivered in earnest, and he didn’t doubt Shepherd’s sincerity.

Grinning, his exhaustion forgotten, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and went to help Bruno and Angie. What did tiredness or aching feet matter when tomorrow he had a date with Shepherd Knight?

Five

The Sunday signings didn’t get nearly the same amount of traffic as Shepherd’s had, but business stayed consistent throughout the day, and by the time they closed, the till was full and Mark brimmed with happiness. The weekend had been a success. Now they had to maintain their momentum, but Mark had half a dozen ideas, and for the first time in months, he felt truly hopeful that Bookmarked could be saved. It would take hard work and more long hours, but he didn’t shy away from either of those things. He would’ve never opened his own business if he couldn’t handle giving it his all.

As Angie ushered out the last few customers, Mark shut down the registers. He glanced up just in time to catch a straggler: a familiar blond teenager tossing a soda bottle into the trash can. Yet again. Mark didn’t know his name—the boy never did anything more than grunt when spoken to—but Mark had caught him throwing plastic into the wrong bin so many times, his seldom seen temper finally snapped.

“Hey, kid!” He gave the recycling bin, which was right next to the garbage, a significant look. “Do you mind? We’re trying to save the Earth here. Do you want your children to have to walk the streets of a landfill?”

The boy scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Fagtain Planet. Ugh. You people are so fucking extra.”

He disappeared before Mark could do more than flinch. Mark swallowed thickly, his stomach burning. Even coming from a gangly, acne-scarred teenager, that word still had the power to wound him. He almost never heard it, not in liberal, gay-friendly Heartsville, but no matter how much Mark wished otherwise, they couldn’t keep all of the close-minded bigots out of their zip code. Sometimes he needed the reminder, or so he told himself. Complacency invited danger. Right?
Right.

And just what the hell did “extra” mean, anyway? Mark didn’t know how insulted he should be.
Man, I’m out of touch.
If he had a lawn, he’d probably be telling kids to get off it.

“What a little turd.”

Mark started and turned to find Adam on the other side of the counter. Adam patted his hand, and his sympathetic expression eased the painful burn in Mark’s gut.

“You and those recycling bins,” Adam said lightly.

“They’re not there for decoration. Is it really that difficult? I think he does it just to annoy me.” Mark sighed and glanced back toward the door. “And isn’t he a little young to be making Captain Planet references? I mean, his balls probably haven’t even dropped yet.”

Adam laughed. “That’s the spirit. And, you know, the Internet. It’s a thing. Plus, there’s probably some cable station out there playing reruns, providing douchey teenagers with ammunition for their snark arsenals.”

Mark snorted, but already his mood was improving. He wouldn’t allow some punk kid to spoil the success of his weekend.
Nope. Not today, Satan.
That negativity had no place here.

Adam smirked, and then promptly ruined the the effect by yawning so hard his jaw cracked. “God, I’m tired.”

“I thought you’d left, actually.” The last author had been gone for over an hour.

“Dozed off on that red couch upstairs. That thing is a trap.”

Mark chuckled. Finding people asleep on that sofa was a regular occurrence. It was a three-cushion antique with a tufted back and armrests, the deep red leather comfortably worn by several decades and probably hundreds of asses. Like much of the furniture in the store, he’d picked it up from an estate sale. “Maybe I need to replace it with something from IKEA.”

“Don’t you dare.” Adam yawned again, his eyes watering. “Damn. I’m gonna go. Have fun on your date. And don’t let that kid get to you, okay?”

“I won’t.”

“Good.” Adam leaned across the counter to give him a quick hug. “Hey, hold up, Angie. I’m leaving. Lock the door behind me, babe.”

Mark shook his head, smiling as he went back to shutting down the registers.

Once he was done reconciling the cash and securing the next day’s deposit, he went upstairs to do a walkthrough and collect any stray books or merchandise for reshelving. A few minutes later, he heard Angie yell good-bye from downstairs.

“Bye,” he called back. “Thanks for your help this weekend. See you Tuesday.”

He hummed to himself as he straightened the stacks of books on the horror table they’d set up for Halloween. The holiday was only a few weeks away, and he planned to decorate in the next couple of days. He’d wanted to wait until after the signings to festoon the place with fake spider webs, jauntily costumed skeletons, and strings of jack-o’-lantern lights.

The creak of a step on the hardwood floor behind him made Mark jump and spin around. He almost screamed at the glimpse of a tall man dressed entirely in black—until he recognized Shepherd. “Jesus!”

Shep held up a hand, palm out. “Sorry, sorry. Angie let me in as she was leaving. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Mark laughed shakily, his heart racing with adrenaline. “It’s okay. I just… I thought I was alone.”

“We are,” Shepherd said. “Alone, I mean.”

At his tone, Mark’s throat went dry. Then Shepherd’s gaze settled on his mouth, and Mark’s heartbeat sped for a completely new reason. He swept his tongue along his lower lip as Shepherd moved toward him.

Shepherd wore loose-fitting jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt that displayed deliciously broad shoulders. Perfect for hanging onto while being pounded. A day’s worth of stubble shaded Shep’s jaw, and his hair was disarrayed, though it looked as if he’d been running his fingers through it rather than artfully styled. His eyes were dark, the deep, almost-black of coffee, and just as hot. They held Mark captive as Shepherd crowded his personal space.

With effort, Mark swallowed. This Shepherd was new, different from the man who’d trembled from anxiety in his office the night before. Confident now, perhaps because Shep knew he’d be welcomed. Whatever the reason, Mark didn’t dare speak, afraid to break the spell. He’d had too many fantasies about this exact scenario, or something like it, and the thought of Shepherd taking charge and bending him over a table made him moan low in his throat.

Shepherd took the moan as an invitation and closed the final few inches between them. He touched his lips to Mark’s, and there he hesitated, as if he’d suddenly lost his nerve. Mark felt Shepherd start to withdraw and knew he’d have to act or lose the chance. Hell if he’d let it slip through his grasp. He’d waited too damn long.

Mark reached up to grab Shepherd’s nape and kissed him hard. That seemed to be the only encouragement Shepherd needed. He took control of the kiss, silently requesting access to Mark’s mouth, which Mark happily gave. The kiss was deep and slow—slick, unhurried sweeps of tongue that made Mark’s knees weak and tightened his gut with want.

When Shepherd pulled back, Mark blinked dazedly and licked Shepherd’s taste from his lips.

“We should go,” Shepherd said. “Before I—”

“Before you what?” Mark asked when Shepherd cut himself off.

A flush crawled up Shepherd’s cheeks, and for a second, Mark thought he wouldn’t answer. Then Shepherd leaned in to whisper against his ear. “Before I make you come right here.”

Mark groaned and tightened his arms, which had ended up wrapped around Shepherd’s waist at some point during their kiss. “Do it.”

Shepherd’s mouth captured his. Unlike the first, this kiss was fierce and wet, punctuated by biting teeth and stuttered breaths. Shepherd was only an inch or two taller, and their bodies aligned perfectly, chest-to-chest and cock-to-stiffening-cock. Mark ground his hips against Shepherd’s, shuddering at the pressure from the answering hardness behind Shepherd’s fly.

If he was dreaming, Mark would kill the person who woke him up. But it felt so real. Shepherd’s body solid and warm—lean strength, no heavy muscles. His lips were demanding but giving, so generous and so very sweet. Mark’s head spun, the slip and slide of their tongues diverting all coherent thought from his brain to the needy ache in his groin.

The table dug into the backs of his thighs, and he heard the muffled thuds of books hitting the floor. Mark couldn’t bring himself to care. All that mattered was Shepherd’s taste and his heat and the tug of Shepherd’s fingers in his hair and—
oh God, I’m gonna come.

Mark whined, high and frantic, nearly at the precipice.

Shepherd pulled away, putting an abrupt end to their kiss. Mark didn’t even have time to protest before Shep had turned him and bent him over the table. His glasses knocked askew, Mark pressed his cheek to one of the book covers as Shepherd nudged his legs apart and humped against his ass. Mark’s breath gusted out in a rush, fogging his lenses. Despite the layers between them, his dick turned to stone at the thrust of Shepherd’s hips, the drag of his clothed cock along Mark’s crease.

One of Shepherd’s hands slipped into Mark’s pocket, and Mark thanked the powers that be he’d chosen looser jeans that morning when Shepherd found his cock and played his fingers across the tip, where warm, sticky precum had soaked through his briefs. Goosebumps broke out on Mark’s skin when Shepherd gripped his dick, his palm hot through the fabric, and stroked as much as the confines of the pocket allowed.

Mark made a choked, eager noise and pushed into the touch. Somehow the fact that they were both still dressed made it sexier, flashing him back to high school and all the rushed supply closet make-out sessions with his boyfriend, trying to get each other off as quickly as possible without being caught. No time to strip, just desperate need and the relentless horniness of rampant teenage hormones.

Mark sucked in a shaky breath, a deep shiver racking him at the scent of paper and ink from the books he rested on. Through slitted eyes, he noticed the uncovered windows along the far wall. During the daytime, they allowed for lots of natural light. Now, with the darkness outside and the fluorescent bulbs overhead, he knew anyone on the second floor in the building across the street would have a prime view of what they were doing. Mark wasn’t an exhibitionist, not really, but right then, he couldn’t deny the sharp, illicit thrill that came from the idea of being watched.

Between the possibility of prying eyes, the smell of books thick in his nostrils, and the grind of Shepherd’s pelvis against his ass, Mark was overwhelmed. Another stroke of Shepherd’s fist, and he cried out and came, trembling along with every low, throbbing pulse that drew up his balls and pushed cum from his cock.

Shepherd grunted, shoving forcefully enough to rock the table and send a few more paperbacks to the floor. Then he froze, his body pressed tight to Mark’s. They stayed that way for a moment, both of them panting.

With one last squeeze to Mark’s sensitized cock, Shepherd withdrew his hand from Mark’s pocket and stepped back.

Mark straightened, unsure where to look, his cheeks blazing hot. So much for afterglow. Now that the urgency was gone and the evidence of his orgasm cooled in his briefs, reality slammed down hard. Not only had he screwed around in his bookstore, which was unprecedented, he’d come while sniffing a Stephen King novel and being dry-humped by his favorite author. There had to be a joke in there, something about loving his books but not
loving
his books. All Mark knew was there couldn’t be many guys out there who’d gotten off to the scent of
Pet Sematary
. Somehow, he didn’t think Stephen King would appreciate getting that in a fan letter.

Shepherd cleared his throat, dragging Mark’s attention to him. Shep was flushed, his lips red and swollen from their kisses. He looked as embarrassed as Mark felt… but happy too. More happy than anything else.

“Sorry.” Shepherd smiled sheepishly, and as few times as Mark had seen that expression, it hit him like a sharp jab to the chin, stunning him for a second. “That wasn’t the plan when I walked in here.”

Half-dazed, Mark found himself grinning back. “What was the plan?”

“Well, I figured we’d go to dinner, maybe talk, but you….” He coughed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “You look good in yellow.”

Mark ducked his head to hide how much the compliment pleased him. God, they could’ve been a couple of shy teenagers, wading through the minefield of all-consuming crushes, stilted conversations, and first-time sexual encounters. In his younger days, he’d blown random guys in bars without feeling a flicker of embarrassment after the fact. This was odd, new territory. But it felt good. It felt wonderful. Mark wanted to lock up the feeling and hoard it like a dragon with his treasure.