Pecan Pie

  Short MM Romance

  Slice of Forever

  Book 3

  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 Thanksgiving lovers.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Epilogue

  Also by West Greene

  About the Author

  1

  Shea

  I cradled my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I listened to my friend gush about Germany. How crazy was it that both Noah and Asa had been whisked away by hot as hell military men to live in beautiful, exotic places? I was so happy for them.

  But at the same time, I was extremely jealous, too.

  I mean, I worked my ass off at an office job in the city thirty minutes from us, barely making enough to scrape by. I was the first one in and the last one to leave on our floor. And yet, my pay never went up but a few meager cents every year, my boss was a homophobic douchebag, and every promotion that ever came up, it seemed I was never qualified enough for.

  I’d even gone on to get my master’s degree, hoping to become something better and get out of this Podunk little town, but that didn’t account for anything. And because of my rent, car note, and stupidly expensive car insurance, I couldn’t put enough into savings to hopefully find something different. Because, yeah, while I could look for a job while still working for this employer, everyone’s pay was different—weekly, monthly, biweekly—and I needed to make sure I had enough set aside if I needed to survive between paychecks like that.

  “Oh! Rip just got home. I’ll talk to you later. Love you!”

  The line clicked dead before I could say anything. I sighed and shoved it into my pocket, continuing to peruse the freshly baked pies in front of me. I wanted them all, but I only had enough for one. And while I wouldn’t be spending Thanksgiving with my family due to them being homophobic assholes, I still at least wanted a fucking pie to eat while I sat at home all day tomorrow and Friday, moping about my shitty life.

  I snatched up the pecan pie and walked toward the counter to pay for it. Pam was working; she was a bubbly woman in her late thirties. She was extremely sweet, but the holidays were always a sore reminder for me that I was alone, my friends had moved on, and I had nothing to show for all my hard work.

  “Hey, hun. You ready for tomorrow?”

  I shrugged. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I muttered.

  She sighed and reached out to pat my hand as I handed over a twenty. “You know you can always come to my place for Thanksgiving. We make more than enough food to go around.”

  While I knew that offer was there, I also knew not everyone in this town liked me because I was openly gay—and that included some of Pam’s family. I’d just rather not deal with it at all. I spent my holidays alone, and for the most part, I was used to it.

  “Thanks, Pam, but I think I’ll pass this year.”

  Understanding passed through her brown eyes, and she nodded. After she handed me my change, I walked out to my car and set my pie on the floorboard of the front passenger seat, then swung my door shut.

  And I spun around, only to come face to face with my one-night-stand from two years ago. He’d been in town to visit someone—I couldn’t remember who—and he’d come to the bar.

  Where he had proceeded to sweet talk me, make out with me, get me off in the men’s restroom, and then took me home to fuck me.

  And promptly left before I woke up the next morning, never to be heard from again.

  To say that I was fucking bitter about it was an understatement, especially since I stressed to him that I didn’t do one-night-stands. But he’d promised he wouldn’t let it be that. He’d fucking promised.

  Men were shit at keeping promises.

  “You,” I seethed.

  He blinked like he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Shea?” he rasped. He stepped closer to me, but I took a step back, hating that my car was now keeping me trapped. He swallowed thickly and shoved his hair back from his forehead. “Fuck, baby.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I snarled at him, hating the way my heart melted at that term of endearment still, two fucking years later. “I’m not your baby.”

  He gritted his teeth, his hand curling into a fist before he forced it to relax. “I can explain,” he rushed out.

  I arched a brow at him. “Explain?” I snapped. I laughed, though it was full of pain and anger. He frowned, pain flashing through his gorgeous, blue eyes. “What’s there to explain, Buckley? You promised me I wouldn’t be a one-night-stand, took me to my house, fucked me, and then left—for two years, might I add, in case you don’t know how much time has passed.”

  He shook his head. “I left you a note. I left my number. I left my address. I had to get to the airport, Shea. I was already cutting it short when I did leave. I almost missed my flight.”

  I clenched my jaw. I hated that he was so fucking good-looking. It made being angry at him so much harder. But I needed to be angry; otherwise, I’d break down and cry, and I couldn’t handle that. I couldn’t do that—not in front of him. He’d made promises that night—promises I had stupidly believed in—and he hadn’t kept.

  Buckley was just as slim and cut as I remembered, his shirt painted onto his biceps, abs, and chest. He had a bit of a lankier build, but it was clear he still worked out. His dark hair had grown out some, and his blue eyes were just as mesmerizing now as they’d been in that bar two years ago.

  “I didn’t find a note,” I bitterly told him. How the fuck was he trying to stand here, lying to my face?

  “I put it on your nightstand,” he told me quietly.

  I shook my head. “There wasn’t a note there when I woke up,” I told him. “How the fuck are you trying to lie to me right now?”

  He gritted his teeth and quickly crowded my space, blocking me in against my car with his arms on either side of me. I swallowed thickly, my heart hammering against my breastbone. His eyes glittered with anger and hurt. “I’m not fucking lying to you, Shea. I left a fucking note.”

  “No, you—”

  My words were cut off when his mouth slanted across mine. His kiss was bruising and demanding, and God help me, I fucking responded. My mind blanked, and I opened my mouth beneath his, seeking out his tongue.

  A moan crawled up the back of my throat, and I clung to him, hating that tears were now wetting my lashes. When he pulled back, one ran unbidden down my cheek, and he noticed before I could swipe it away.

  “Fuck, baby, I never meant to hurt you,” he swore. He rested his forehead on mine. I shut my eyes, unable to handle having his blue eyes so close to mine. “Let me come over. We’ll search for that fucking note. I swear to you, I never meant for any of this to happen, Shea. I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me. I’ve been living with that shit for two years now.”

  I swallowed thickly, realizing how much communication had been lost between us. Jerkily, I nodded my head. “Okay,” I whispered. “We’ll search.”

  2

  Buckley

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  We’d lost so much time all because I decided to leave a fucking note and not wake him up. But he’d looked so fucking peaceful when I got out of that bed that I couldn’t bring myself to disturb him. I’d worn him out, fucking him in every position I could get his little ass body into. He’d needed that sleep.

  Hell, I’d needed it, too, but I had to get on that fucking plane.

  Heaving a tired sigh, I pulled into Shea’s driveway. His house looked the same as I remembered, except he had a couple more flowers on his porch. It was still white—needed a pressure washing for sure—and his shutters were still black.

  I slid out of my truck and followed him onto the porch. Once the front door was unlocked, he pushed it open, and I gestured for him to go on in ahead of me. He flicked on some lights as the scent of pumpkin spice and apple cider reached my nose. I hummed in pleasure. I hadn’t smelled scents like this in two damn years.

  Not since I left him alone in bed that night—or early morning, whichever way you looked at it.

  “Let’s go to your room,” I told him as I toed off my boots, remembering he didn’t like shoes on his floors. He narrowed his eyes at me. I cracked a grin. “I’m not trying to get you into bed. I’ll do that after I prove my innocence,” I assured him.

  He rolled his eyes, but I noticed his mouth quirked with a smile, though he didn’t let it show.

  Once we were in his room, I instantly took notice of the fact that he hadn’t rearranged or redecorated. His sheets and comforter were still baby blue, though he’d added a couple of stuffed animals to the bed. I remembered he’d loved those things. I was happy to see that hadn’t changed.

  Clearing my throat, I moved to his side of the bed. He just crossed his arms over his chest and watched me. I knew he thought I was bluffing until I could talk him onto that bed, but I was damn determined to prove to him that I had never thought of him as a one-night-stand. I’d fallen head over heels for the sweet boy in front of me the moment his eyes met mine at that fucking bar.

  I almost thought nothing was under the bed, but then I saw it. It was just a tiny glimpse of it, but wedged behind his nightstand, was the note I’d left him on a small slip of paper. I stood up to my feet.

  “Nothing, right?” Shea smarted off, but I ignored him.

  I pulled the heavy nightstand away from the wall, bent over, and grabbed the note. Then, I moved the piece of furniture back into place and held it out to him.

  I watched a ton of different emotions flash across his face—wariness, caution, fear, anger, sadness—before he grabbed the slip of paper from me with a trembling hand.

  And when he saw I wasn’t lying, he proceeded to break down into tears, making my eyes widen in alarm. “No, baby,” I rasped, pulling him into me. I heard the paper crinkle in his fist as he clutched at my shirt. I pressed my lips to the top of his head, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his blonde hair as I gently rocked him side to side. “Don’t cry, baby boy. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “All this time—” he hiccupped. “I let all this time pass.”

  I settled on the bed and drew him onto my lap. He straddled my thighs before linking his legs behind me, his heels pressing into my lower back. I gently eased his face back a little so I could look down into his pretty, hazel eyes. “Don’t. We’re not doing that shit, you hear me? I’m back, baby boy. And when I leave this time, I’m bringing your cute ass with me whether you like it or not.”

  He sniffled. I tucked his head under my chin and continued to gently rock him, running my hand up and down his back. “How does eating our feelings in pie sound?” I softly asked him. “I saw you put that pie in your car.”

  He giggled, though it sounded watery. But fuck, the sound of that giggle had the same effect on me that it did two years ago. It made my heart thump crazily in my chest. “You and food.”

  I laughed softly. I’d eaten his entire pie between rounds of fucking two years ago.

  “So, pie?” I asked him.

  He nodded. “Carry me to the living room?” he asked, looking up at me beneath wet lashes.

  I pressed a kiss to his damp cheek, licking at his tears for a moment. He giggled and gently pushed my face away. “I’ll carry you anywhere, baby boy.”

  “Why do you always get the biggest piece?” Shea complained as I settled next to him on the couch, handing him his plate.

  I shrugged. “I’m a bigger man than you are, babe.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “I bought the damn thing.”

  “Mmmm,” I moaned around a bite. Fuck, this pie was good. I turned my head to look at him. “Watch your mouth, baby.”

  He rolled his eyes. I gently swatted his thigh, making him jump in surprise. I arched a brow at him. He flushed and shoved a piece of pie into his mouth. I laughed softly.

  So adorable.

  Once he was finished with his slice of pie, I set it on the table and then pulled him onto my lap, bringing his mouth to mine. I’d gone two years without this boy, and I needed him. I didn’t even need penetration; I just had a fucking need to have him come. I wanted to see it. The way this boy fell apart every time he nutted was something fucking special to witness.

  “Buckley,” he moaned as I nipped at his neck, licking at his skin. He tasted sinful, and fuck if I wasn’t a goddamn sinner.

  “I want you to come, baby boy. Think you can give me that?” I sucked at his neck, leaving my mark. He ground against me, his hands gripping my sides for leverage.

  Fuck yes. Just like that.

  Except I needed both of us naked if he was going to rut against me.

  I laid him back on the couch and proceeded to pull his clothes off, licking, sucking, and nipping at his skin along the way as I unveiled every bit of his body. I couldn’t get enough of him, and when his prick slapped against his belly, I licked up the small length of him, loving everything about him.

  He’d been embarrassed about his small size when I’d first got him naked, but I quickly showed him I didn’t give a fuck about size, especially when every bit of him was already so fucking perfect.

  “Buck,” he whimpered when I got up. I ran my hand over him, soothing him. Then, I proceeded to shed all of my clothes, leaving me as naked as he was.

  He made grabbing motions at me that had my heart melting in my chest. Fuck, I loved this boy. He was always so open with what he felt and what he wanted. It was goddamn refreshing.

  I moved my body so I was covering his and took his lips in a hard, needy kiss. He began to buck up into me, trying to take what he needed. And not wanting him to suffer, I gripped his hip, pinning him into the couch cushions. Then, I began to rut against him, rubbing our cocks together, grinding down hard on him.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” he chanted, his chest heaving. “I need more, Buck. Please,” he whimpered.

  “Not yet, baby boy,” I growled. I knew he wanted me inside him, but I wanted this with him first.

  I grabbed our cocks in my hand, fisting them, and I proceeded to fuck us into my fist. Five strokes later, and my boy trembled beneath me, his cum splashing over my hand and his belly, which set me off. I shouted his name as I came, making even more of a mess of him.

  And then, because I was territorial and possessive as fuck after being without him for two fucking years, thinking he didn’t want me, I rubbed our cum into his skin as I languidly kissed him, letting his body and heart rate calm back down.

  3

  Shea

  After we got off last night—and he rubbed our cum all over me—Buckley bathed me in the shower, where he proceeded to get me off again. Then, he dressed me in one of his shirts that he got from his truck and a jockstrap. After, we cuddled on the couch watching movies. I got lots of butt rubs and back rubs—and lots of kisses—but it never went any farther than that.

  I was sure he was trying to prove to me that things were going to be different this time. It was definitely a bit sexually frustrating since I wanted him inside me so badly, but I understood.

  When I woke up the next morning, he was still sleeping, so I eased out from under his arm and out of bed, heading to the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast, wanting to surprise him with it.

  But there wasn’t much for surprises when he walked into the kitchen not even two minutes later just as I turned the coffee pot on. I frowned at him as he scratched his bare abs. “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed,” I grumbled.

  He just cracked a heart-stopping grin and leaned down, pressing his lips to mine. “How about I help make breakfast, and we can eat together?” he asked me.

  I looked up at him hopefully. “Do you mind eating outside? The mornings here are just the perfect temperature, and I like feeling fall on the breeze as I eat and drink my coffee.”

  He slid his hands down my sides and nuzzled my nose with his. “We can eat anywhere you want, baby boy.”

  God, I loved it when he called me that.

  Together, we made a breakfast of ham, eggs, and toast. Once we were settled at the small table on my back porch, I dug in, a lot hungrier than I thought I’d been.

  “You know what would go good with this?” Buckley asked once he was done eating.

  I arched a brow at him in question as I ate the last piece of my ham. He grinned at me, and automatically, I knew something ridiculous was going to come out of his mouth. “Pie.”

  I shot him a deadpan look. “You are not eating all of my pie this time,” I warned him.

  He arched a challenging brow at me. “I’m not?”

  Fire jumped in my blood. My cock surged, hardening. I knew that look.

  I shook my head at him. He eased up from his chair. I quickly got up and sprinted into the house, unable to help the giggle that spilled from my lips. He quickly caught up to me and threw me over his shoulder, smacking his hand down on my bare ass.

 

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