My brows rose as I watched him eat the street taco in two bites. It took me at least four.
“You have a big mouth,” I told him.
He chewed and watched me. “I have a normal size mouth. You just take dainty little bites and eat slowly because you’re basking in the taste of your food. It’s killing me.”
I looked down at his jeans and couldn’t miss the bulge there.
Just the memory of how he’d felt inside of me had me squirming.
His eyes went to my chest where my nipples were hard behind his soft tee, and I smiled.
“Let me finish,” I told him, holding up a finger.
He didn’t miss the meaning.
Our conversation dragged on as we practically demolished each and every taco he bought. And he reluctantly allowed me to share his dessert tacos.
He was right.
They were good.
I was still munching on mine, so full I could barely stand it, when he put what we didn’t eat away in the fridge.
Once the last bite of my dessert taco made it into my mouth, he swept the sheet off the bed and folded it in on itself as to not drop any crumbs, then dropped it into my laundry basket.
He then followed that up with picking up all the clothes that I always managed to miss getting into the basket.
I licked my fingers as I watched him bend over and pick up a dirty pair of socks.
“Does my messiness drive you crazy?” I teased.
He dropped the socks into the bin before turning to me, a look of concentration on his face.
“No,” he admitted. “I’m just trying not to look at you while you suck on your fingers. You’re making my dick so hard that it’s nearly painful.”
I licked clean my last finger and made sure to take my time as I did.
“Your head still hurt?” he rumbled.
I nodded. “But not enough that I can’t do things that’ll be jarring.”
He reached behind him and grasped the collar of his shirt before shrugging it off his shoulders.
I swallowed hard as I saw the solid muscles of his chest come into view.
First, the lower V peeked out—and God, was that something that every woman should get to experience just once—followed by his abdominals, which were no less impressive. Then there was his chest. He had man boob muscles—and not fat, but actual defined, muscular pectorals that were clearly built up from years of hard work. His shoulders also had that muscled hump by his neck, better known as his trapezius muscles.
My eyes once again snagged on his tattoo.
“What does that mean?” I wondered.
The more I looked at it, the more I wanted to know what it was for.
“What?” he asked as he tossed the shirt onto the ground, missing the chair where he’d been aiming completely.
I grinned and watched him work on his pants next.
I wasn’t surprised to see him slip a gun out of the back of his jeans, nor was I surprised to see a couple of magazines follow it. What I was surprised to see him take out was a…
“Why do you have a roll of condoms in your back pocket?” I laughed.
When he pulled it all the way out, it unrolled and nearly hit him about shin level.
The roll of condoms went to the chair as well—this time actually making it.
“Bayou gave them to me as I was leaving his house today,” he answered. “He told me to wrap it up because he knew that I wasn’t.”
My face flushed. “How would he know something like that?”
Hoax’s head tilted slightly. “Have you seen yourself? If someone gave me the chance to have you and gave me the option of gloving up or taking you bare, I’d choose bare every time. Even if you weren’t on birth control.”
I snorted. “But I am.”
This was a discussion we’d had after the impromptu staff bathroom incident. Something that we definitely should’ve had before we’d gone as far as we did, but oh well. At least we’d had it.
I hadn’t been worried that he’d been clean. Hoax was more than a little bit concerned about my well-being, and he wouldn’t put my life at risk, not even if it meant hurting himself in the process of protecting me.
“How does he know we’re having sex, though?” I persisted.
Hoax started on the buckle of his belt and had it undone, his pants unbuttoned, and his jeans around his ankles in the time it took for me to draw in a breath.
“Those are cute underwear,” I teased.
He laughed.
“The Army was nice enough to provide me with underwear when we were in basic, and I like the support.” He defended his choice of wardrobe.
“They’re tighty whities. Only old men wear tighty whities.” I paused. “My grandfather wears tighty whities.”
He snorted and dropped his underwear, making my lips go slack as I looked at his penis.
He had such a nice penis.
One that I wanted to wrap in my hand and coax to life and then straddle and make use of the beautiful specimen.
“I’ve lived with Bayou for most of my life. He knows when I’ve gotten laid.” He walked into the bathroom, giving me a view of his taut ass as well. “I gotta go take a shower real quick. I spilled gas on my pant leg when I stopped before I got your tacos.”
God, I was such a horn dog.
Everything about the man was turning me on.
Even those little dimples above his tailbone were doing it for me!
When I heard the faucet turn on, I realized that I was going to have to do something about my little problem.
Something that I wanted him to do all the work on since I knew from experience it would cause my head to hurt worse if I started moving around too much.
For the first time in hours, my head actually felt very nice. Not better completely, but to the point where I could actually hold a conversation and not worry about my head exploding, or me throwing up all over the person I was talking to.
Taking off my shirt—Hoax’s shirt—I laid it on the nightstand and snuggled under the covers deeper.
Then I started to slowly thrum my clit as I listened to him shower. To the water splashing the tile.
Luckily, he’d learned after that first time to close all my animals out of the bedroom when we were in it, otherwise, they’d make themselves at home.
I heard him groan, and then his voice call out. “I was going to try to take a shower at your hell-hot temperature, but I can’t do it!”
I laughed softly and started to circle my clit harder, faster.
The shower stayed on another five minutes, and I had to stop touching myself because if I didn’t, I’d come.
Just the thought of the man that I now called mine was enough to make me on the verge without any stimulation at all.
By the time he finally emerged from the bathroom, turning out all the lights as he went, I was well and truly ready for him.
When the covers pulled back beside me, I waited impatiently for him to crawl in with me.
The moment that he was settled and the blanket was once again flat, I moved.
But, so did he.
And we bumped our foreheads together.
Like a couple of dumbasses.
“Oww,” I whined.
The beginning of another headache started almost instantly, and I nearly cried out in sadness.
“Shit,” Hoax growled. “I’m sorry.”
He wrapped me up in his arms and pressed his lips to my forehead, a little bit off center from where we’d connected just a few seconds before.
“Head hurt again?” he asked worriedly.
“A little,” I lied.
“Such a little liar,” he called me out. “What am I going to do with you?”
I had a few ideas.
Love me was one of them, but we weren’t at that stage in our relationship just yet.
One day we would be, but we weren’t there right then.
I scooted closer until he could feel my nipples dragging across his skin, and he tensed. “Weren’t you wearing a shirt just a minute ago?”
“Yes,” I replied. “But I wanted you to come in here and do naughty things to me, so I took it off.”
“Is that right?” he drawled, sliding his hands up and down my back.
He pressed another kiss to my forehead, this time with wet lips, and then drew back so he could blow.
“You have a big mouth,” I told him.
He chewed and watched me. “I have a normal size mouth. You just take dainty little bites and eat slowly because you’re basking in the taste of your food. It’s killing me.”
I looked down at his jeans and couldn’t miss the bulge there.
Just the memory of how he’d felt inside of me had me squirming.
His eyes went to my chest where my nipples were hard behind his soft tee, and I smiled.
“Let me finish,” I told him, holding up a finger.
He didn’t miss the meaning.
Our conversation dragged on as we practically demolished each and every taco he bought. And he reluctantly allowed me to share his dessert tacos.
He was right.
They were good.
I was still munching on mine, so full I could barely stand it, when he put what we didn’t eat away in the fridge.
Once the last bite of my dessert taco made it into my mouth, he swept the sheet off the bed and folded it in on itself as to not drop any crumbs, then dropped it into my laundry basket.
He then followed that up with picking up all the clothes that I always managed to miss getting into the basket.
I licked my fingers as I watched him bend over and pick up a dirty pair of socks.
“Does my messiness drive you crazy?” I teased.
He dropped the socks into the bin before turning to me, a look of concentration on his face.
“No,” he admitted. “I’m just trying not to look at you while you suck on your fingers. You’re making my dick so hard that it’s nearly painful.”
I licked clean my last finger and made sure to take my time as I did.
“Your head still hurt?” he rumbled.
I nodded. “But not enough that I can’t do things that’ll be jarring.”
He reached behind him and grasped the collar of his shirt before shrugging it off his shoulders.
I swallowed hard as I saw the solid muscles of his chest come into view.
First, the lower V peeked out—and God, was that something that every woman should get to experience just once—followed by his abdominals, which were no less impressive. Then there was his chest. He had man boob muscles—and not fat, but actual defined, muscular pectorals that were clearly built up from years of hard work. His shoulders also had that muscled hump by his neck, better known as his trapezius muscles.
My eyes once again snagged on his tattoo.
“What does that mean?” I wondered.
The more I looked at it, the more I wanted to know what it was for.
“What?” he asked as he tossed the shirt onto the ground, missing the chair where he’d been aiming completely.
I grinned and watched him work on his pants next.
I wasn’t surprised to see him slip a gun out of the back of his jeans, nor was I surprised to see a couple of magazines follow it. What I was surprised to see him take out was a…
“Why do you have a roll of condoms in your back pocket?” I laughed.
When he pulled it all the way out, it unrolled and nearly hit him about shin level.
The roll of condoms went to the chair as well—this time actually making it.
“Bayou gave them to me as I was leaving his house today,” he answered. “He told me to wrap it up because he knew that I wasn’t.”
My face flushed. “How would he know something like that?”
Hoax’s head tilted slightly. “Have you seen yourself? If someone gave me the chance to have you and gave me the option of gloving up or taking you bare, I’d choose bare every time. Even if you weren’t on birth control.”
I snorted. “But I am.”
This was a discussion we’d had after the impromptu staff bathroom incident. Something that we definitely should’ve had before we’d gone as far as we did, but oh well. At least we’d had it.
I hadn’t been worried that he’d been clean. Hoax was more than a little bit concerned about my well-being, and he wouldn’t put my life at risk, not even if it meant hurting himself in the process of protecting me.
“How does he know we’re having sex, though?” I persisted.
Hoax started on the buckle of his belt and had it undone, his pants unbuttoned, and his jeans around his ankles in the time it took for me to draw in a breath.
“Those are cute underwear,” I teased.
He laughed.
“The Army was nice enough to provide me with underwear when we were in basic, and I like the support.” He defended his choice of wardrobe.
“They’re tighty whities. Only old men wear tighty whities.” I paused. “My grandfather wears tighty whities.”
He snorted and dropped his underwear, making my lips go slack as I looked at his penis.
He had such a nice penis.
One that I wanted to wrap in my hand and coax to life and then straddle and make use of the beautiful specimen.
“I’ve lived with Bayou for most of my life. He knows when I’ve gotten laid.” He walked into the bathroom, giving me a view of his taut ass as well. “I gotta go take a shower real quick. I spilled gas on my pant leg when I stopped before I got your tacos.”
God, I was such a horn dog.
Everything about the man was turning me on.
Even those little dimples above his tailbone were doing it for me!
When I heard the faucet turn on, I realized that I was going to have to do something about my little problem.
Something that I wanted him to do all the work on since I knew from experience it would cause my head to hurt worse if I started moving around too much.
For the first time in hours, my head actually felt very nice. Not better completely, but to the point where I could actually hold a conversation and not worry about my head exploding, or me throwing up all over the person I was talking to.
Taking off my shirt—Hoax’s shirt—I laid it on the nightstand and snuggled under the covers deeper.
Then I started to slowly thrum my clit as I listened to him shower. To the water splashing the tile.
Luckily, he’d learned after that first time to close all my animals out of the bedroom when we were in it, otherwise, they’d make themselves at home.
I heard him groan, and then his voice call out. “I was going to try to take a shower at your hell-hot temperature, but I can’t do it!”
I laughed softly and started to circle my clit harder, faster.
The shower stayed on another five minutes, and I had to stop touching myself because if I didn’t, I’d come.
Just the thought of the man that I now called mine was enough to make me on the verge without any stimulation at all.
By the time he finally emerged from the bathroom, turning out all the lights as he went, I was well and truly ready for him.
When the covers pulled back beside me, I waited impatiently for him to crawl in with me.
The moment that he was settled and the blanket was once again flat, I moved.
But, so did he.
And we bumped our foreheads together.
Like a couple of dumbasses.
“Oww,” I whined.
The beginning of another headache started almost instantly, and I nearly cried out in sadness.
“Shit,” Hoax growled. “I’m sorry.”
He wrapped me up in his arms and pressed his lips to my forehead, a little bit off center from where we’d connected just a few seconds before.
“Head hurt again?” he asked worriedly.
“A little,” I lied.
“Such a little liar,” he called me out. “What am I going to do with you?”
I had a few ideas.
Love me was one of them, but we weren’t at that stage in our relationship just yet.
One day we would be, but we weren’t there right then.
I scooted closer until he could feel my nipples dragging across his skin, and he tensed. “Weren’t you wearing a shirt just a minute ago?”
“Yes,” I replied. “But I wanted you to come in here and do naughty things to me, so I took it off.”
“Is that right?” he drawled, sliding his hands up and down my back.
He pressed another kiss to my forehead, this time with wet lips, and then drew back so he could blow.
