Pumpkin Pie

  Short MM Romance

  Slice of Forever

  Book 2

  West Greene

  Copyright ©August 2022 by West Greene

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Interior Design & Formatting: Tiff Writes Romance

  Cover Design: Tiff Writes Romance

  Editing: Tiff Writes Romance

  Proofreading: Kimberly Peterson

  Created with Vellum

  For Riley, my reason for everything that I do.

  * * *

  For all the lovers of Thanksgiving.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Epilogue

  Also by West Greene

  About the Author

  1

  Asa

  I heaved a heavy sigh, glancing at the clock on the wall behind the register. The overnight girl was an hour late. And I hated that she and the overnight manager were so freaking close. Because of it, she’d never get fired so we could get someone more reliable.

  This happened all the time. Every evening shift I worked, I ended up being the last one out the door because the overnight girl couldn’t ever show up on time. And I hated that I was always scheduled like this, too. I mean, Margo did her best to make it a little easier on me so I wasn’t so slammed, and it wasn’t her fault that I was always scheduled like this; she was just a shift manager—nothing more. She didn’t make the schedules.

  “Still hasn’t shown up?” Margo asked as she popped out of the back, her smoker’s voice a bit raspy and low.

  I shook my head as I wiped down the bar for the umpteenth time. It was thankfully slow, only two booths occupied, and they’d already paid. They were regulars, so they knew that I wanted to be out the door as soon as I could, and they didn’t take offense to that. They always ordered everything they wanted, went ahead and had me ring it up, and paid, even if their food wasn’t done yet.

  “I don’t know why Rachel can’t be a decent manager and fire her,” I grumbled. God, I was so tired. I glanced down at my painted nails, frowning. The pink on one of them was chipped. I needed to get in to get another manicure. “There’s a difference between being someone’s friend and being an employer.”

  Margo grabbed me a soda and set it in front of me before gently squeezing my shoulder. She was a couple of inches taller than me at five foot five, so she was able to comfortably lean her head on mine. “Just keep sticking it out, hun. Maybe one day it’ll change.”

  It sure didn’t feel like that, but before I could say anything, the bell above the door jingled. I jerked my head up, hoping it would be Anslee, the girl that was so very late, but nope. It was another customer. He was wearing an Army uniform, the name Sloan on a patch on his chest. He was holding his hat in his hand. Dark hair fell onto his forehead just the tiniest bit, the sides cropped close.

  He had a grumpy, aggravated look that made tingles rush down my spine, momentarily making me forget about how tired I was. There was something about his face that just made me want to crawl onto his lap and nestle against him, even though he looked mean as hell.

  “So glad you guys are open twenty-four hours,” he said, dropping into a seat in front of me at the bar. He was a huge man—well over six feet with bulky muscles that strained against his uniform jacket. “I’ll take a coffee and a stack of pancakes—extra syrup.”

  I smirked over my shoulder at him as I turned to put the order in on the computer, though I already knew Jack was firing up the griddle. “You’ve got to be new in town or something,” I said. “Don’t get many unfamiliar faces in these parts.”

  He shrugged. “Somethin’ like that. My grandmother retired here a couple of years ago; I’m here to visit her for Thanksgiving.”

  I nodded my head to let him know I’d heard him and grabbed him a mug, beginning to pour coffee into it. “Sugar? Cream?”

  He just shook his head as I set the coffee in front of him. Snatching it up, he took a tentative sip of the scalding coffee. I began wiping the counters again for the umpteenth time, my gaze flicking up to the clock again.

  An hour and fifteen minutes late.

  Fuck.

  “Don’t want to be here?” the grump in front of me asked.

  I looked back at him. “It’s an hour and fifteen minutes past the time I was supposed to clock out,” I informed him. He arched a brow at me. “Overnight girl always shows up late,” I explained.

  He snorted. “And she’s not fired?”

  I just shook my head. He grunted, shaking his head. “Just fucking clock out and leave,” he said. My lips twitched in amusement. If I did that, I’d be fired because unlike Anslee, I wasn’t BFFs with the fucking manager. “It’s not your responsibility or your problem if they don’t have a server. It’s their problem for keeping someone unreliable.”

  My lips quirked the slightest bit. “That your solution to everything—leave it to someone else?”

  He just shrugged. “I don’t know; I don’t have to deal with punctuality issues. Hence why I like the military.”

  I snorted. “Not all of us are built for the military,” I retorted.

  He ran his eyes over me, a deep rumble sounding from his chest that sounded suspiciously like agreement, but it didn’t offend me. My smirk widened. “Like what you see?” I teased, pushing my fingers through my black, curly hair. It was my natural hair color, and I loved it.

  He hummed, his eyes darkening. My blood pounded in my veins, and I prayed my dick would behave. It rarely ever did though.

  The bell sounded from behind me, and I quickly spun around to grab his pancakes. “Hey, Jack, can I get more syrup?” I asked the cook.

  He flashed me a grin. “That bear out there need some sweetening up?” he teased, shooting me a wink.

  I flushed. He knew I had a thing for big, growly men. Laughing, he set more syrup on the plate, not saying another word, but there was a knowing look in his eyes. I quickly set the man’s pancakes in front of him. He nodded approvingly and began to cut up all his pancakes before pouring every bit of the syrup I’d given him all over it.

  “That’s a lot of sugar,” I commented before I could stop myself.

  He glanced up at me from beneath his lashes. “I like sweet things, pretty boy.” My entire body flushed. He took a bite of his pancakes and chewed for a moment, his eyes slowly running over me for the second time that night. My entire body tingled. “You a sweet boy or are you a bratty one?”

  Oh, dear God, help me.

  I leaned my elbow on the bar, arching a brow at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I teased.

  His lips quirked the tiniest bit—barely even moving—but I noticed it. “Definitely a brat.”

  I gasped in mock hurt. This time, he did smile.

  By the time Anslee strode through the door, I’d come to learn that Sloan’s first name was Rip, he was a Sergeant First Class, and he definitely was not straight, which made me all giddy inside.

  “You’re late,” I grumbled to her when she was stowing her bag beneath the bar.

  She rolled her eyes. “Get over yourself, Asa. And get a manicure, yeah? Nails look like shit.”

  I clenched my jaw, opening my mouth to call her a piece of shit, but Rip beat me to it. “First of all,” he grunted, drawing her eyes to him. I bit my lip to hide my smile when her eyes widened, clearly as drawn to him as I was, “Asa has had to stay for two hours past his shift time. He has every right to be pissed off about it, and frankly, he was a hell of a lot nicer for just calling you out on it because I wouldn’t have been as nice. Second of all, maybe if he didn’t have to cover your ass all the time, he could spend more time on himself. Did you ever think about that? It’s two in the morning. I’m sure by the time he manages to get up in the morning, the day will already mostly be gone.”

  She flushed, embarrassment reddening her cheeks. Rip stood up. “Come ring me out, pretty boy.”

  With that, he strode over to the register, leaving both of us gaping after him.

  . . . And maybe I was hard as steel in my jeans, too.

  2

  Rip

  “I imagine you want to crash tonight when you get home, but I’d like to spend more time with you,” I told the pretty boy in front of me. Asa was something incredible; I knew that the moment our eyes connected when I walked in here. He was a tiny bit bratty, a bit cocky, yet still sweet and tender. He was the perfect combination that I’d been looking for in a boy.

  He shrugged. “I’m actually off tomorrow.” He flashed me a smirk. “I’m all yours, grumpy.”

  I shot him a scowl, but he just sweetly smiled up at me. “Go on; clock out,” I told him. “I’ll wait.”

  He quickly went to get the manager, and within five minutes, he had all of his tips cashed out and was ready to go. We walked outside together. “I normally walk,” he told me with a sheepish shrug when I asked him where his car was.

  I gripped the back of his neck, drawing his eyes up to mine. “You wanna repeat that?” I asked him, my voice low.

  Pink tinged his cheeks, and if I wasn’t so concerned with the fact that he walks home at night, I’d have found it fucking adorable. “I normally walk. I don’t have a car. It’s not far. I’m just down the street—”
  I pressed a finger to his lips, all of my possessive, protective, caveman instincts kicking into overdrive. “Not another word,” I growled. I grabbed his hand in mine and led him to my truck. “Get in.”

  He quickly climbed into the truck, and I shut his door before striding around to the driver’s side. Didn’t he know that nowhere on this damn earth was actually safe? People were killed, raped, and mugged in small towns, too. And the thought of him becoming one of those victims made my stomach hurt and anger flood my veins.

  “Where am I going?” I asked, glancing over at him once I had the truck started.

  He nervously twisted his fingers in his lap, looking unsure of himself now. With a heavy sigh, I reached over and grabbed both of his hands in my much larger one. He jerked his pretty, green eyes up to mine. “Stop fidgeting. Just tell me where I’m going,” I instructed.

  He nodded. “Um, down the street, first road on your right. I’m on the left in house three-fifty-nine.”

  I nodded, and with my hand still covering his, I backed out of the parking spot and headed in the direction he told me to. His house was small but very cute, and it looked to be in a quiet, decent neighborhood, which helped me relax a bit. I pushed the gear shift into park before pushing open my door. He reached for his. “Aht,” I halted him. “Wait.”

  He nodded and sat back in his seat, dropping his hand back on his lap. Once I had his door open for him, I reached up, grabbed his waist, and lifted him down. He was so much smaller than me, and fuck if I didn’t want to just wrap his tiny body up in my arms and protect him from everything in the world that could harm him or make him unhappy.

  I barely knew two things about this boy, and already, I was in deep.

  Once we were inside his house, we kicked our shoes off by the front door. I shrugged my coat off and hung it up before following him deeper inside. “I know it’s not much—” he began, but I cut him off.

  “It’s just fine, pretty boy,” I assured him, running my hand over his dark locks, sinking my fingers in for a moment. His hair was so damn soft.

  He flushed so fucking prettily before moving into the kitchen. “Do you want some pumpkin pie?” he asked me. “I have some here.”

  I nodded. “I’ll take a slice.”

  As we ate the pie in his living room with a Hallmark Christmas movie playing in the background, he seemed to loosen up and relax again, which I was thankful for. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but I also wasn’t going to let him try to run me away.

  I wanted him.

  “Where do you live?” he asked, turning to face me on the couch once he set his empty plate on the coffee table.

  I grabbed his feet and began to massage them. He moaned low in his throat, his head leaning back on his shoulders for a moment, and fuck if I didn’t want to suck at that throat, leaving my mark all over him.

  “I’m about to live in Germany as soon as Thanksgiving is over,” I told him.

  His eyes widened. “Germany?” he squeaked. I nodded. “That’s really far.”

  I chuckled. “Yes, pretty boy, it is. Hence why I wanted to come see my grandmother. She’s up in age; I know her time is limited.”

  He shook his head in amazement. “I always wondered what it would be like outside of Crooked Creek,” he told me. “Never been anywhere but here.”

  I’d have to change that.

  I didn’t say that out loud, though.

  I just continued rubbing his feet, and he relaxed further and further against the couch. Then, I slowly moved my hands up his legs. He moaned softly, his legs parting. When I looked at his face, his eyes were slitted, and he was staring at me, lust shining in their pretty depths.

  “What?” I asked him.

  That bratty smirk played on his lips. “You going to keep teasing me, or are you going to actually do something here?”

  With a growl, I moved over him, my lips molding to his. He whined low in his throat and began to push his hands under my shirt as his mouth moved with mine. He tasted so fucking good—like pie and something that was definitely all him. I took the time to learn every curve of his mouth, letting my tongue dance with his as I worked us both out of our clothes.

  I wasn’t prepared for the sight of my baby boy beneath me.

  He was so small, so fragile, and fuck, I wanted to cherish him. His prick was a little smaller than usual, and damn if I didn’t love it.

  “I know I’m not—” he started.

  I kissed him again. “Don’t,” I growled, already knowing what he was going to say. But I didn’t want him to feel insecure about anything. “You’re fucking perfect.”

  With that, I shoved his thighs open and back, forcing his knees to his chest before I began to rim him. He cried out, his back arching. His fingers slid into my hair as I tongue-fucked his sweet ass, loving every sound that poured from his plump, kiss-swollen lips.

  “Daddy,” he gasped out.

  Ah fuck. Never knew I had a fucking thing for that, but apparently, I did.

  “Again,” I growled.

  “Daddy, please,” he whimpered.

  I worked a finger inside of him, finding the softness of his prostate. I slid my finger against it over and over until he was crying out my name, his head thrashing against the couch cushion as his cum spurted over his belly.

  Hot as fuck.

  “Lube?” I asked him.

  He took a moment to answer, and I patiently waited—some fucking how. “My bedroom. On the nightstand,” he finally managed to get out.

  I quickly got up from the couch and moved towards the room off to the side of the living room. Thankfully, it was his. I snatched the small bottle of lube up and went back into the living room. He slowly opened his eyes, already on the verge of falling asleep.

  But not yet. I wanted his tight ass wrapped around my cock. I needed him to come again with me inside of him.

  “Stay awake for me, pretty boy,” I begged him, leaning over him to press my lips to his. “Can you do that for me?”

  He sleepily nodded. I kissed him again, my tongue sliding between his plump lips. He moaned into the kiss, quickly responding, his mouth just as hungry for me as I was for him.

  I slathered my fingers with lube and worked them inside of him one at a time, scissoring my fingers apart to stretch him as much as I could. I was large, and he was small; I wanted this to be as painless as possible for him.

  “Daddy,” he whined, his kiss turning sloppy as he panted into my mouth, “I need—”

  “I know, pretty boy,” I soothed. I knew exactly what he needed, but I didn’t want to hurt him.

  I slid on a condom and slathered my cock in lube before working myself inside of him. I had one knee bent on the couch, my other foot planted on the floor, and I was holding his hips up so I could get inside of him.

  As soon as that first ring of muscle gave, I moaned, my eyes falling shut for a moment. Fuck. I knew he was tight, but goddamn.

  “Uhn,” he moaned, his hands reaching for me. “More, Daddy. I need you down here. Please.”

  “Hold on, pretty boy,” I rasped, slowly working myself inside of him. As soon as his ass cheeks were flush with my pelvis, I leaned down, covering his tiny body with mine before I began to fuck him, claiming this sweet, bratty boy as mine.

  His cock was bouncing between us, already hard and ready to cum again. His words were incoherent as I pounded him into the couch, but I knew by the blissed-out look on his face that he was fucking loving this. His pretty nails were clawing at my back, shoulders, and arms, breaking the skin and drawing blood, but I didn’t care.

  “You going to come for me, pretty boy? Need you to come for Daddy,” I growled, sucking at the skin of his neck, marking him all over.

  “Daddy!” he cried out, right before his cum splashed out of his cock again, this time also getting me in the abs. With a growl, I pumped into him two more times before emptying into the condom.

  3

 

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