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“Blu-ray?!” the woman beside me dramatically clutches her chest. “You know what life before streaming was like?”
“Barely,” comes out in a good-natured chuckle.
Bunny giggles again and I take it as a sign to keep talking.
Chatting.
Showing her some of me so hopefully she shows me some of her.
“My mom used to bring me home Hot Wheels from all over when she was alive.” I grab the extra soft TP from the top shelf to my right. “Although…the one time she went to London, I got a double decker bus instead.” Stacking the item neatly inside the cart, I add, “Not the most fun to race, damn sure not against an actual Hot Wheel, but it was still pretty fucking cool. The mechanics that are put into making that shit work are fucking wild. Like how they went from horsedrawn double-deckers to V-8 diesel engines. Is. In. Sane.”
Bunny hums and chugs us along in the fairly empty local store. “How old were you when she died?”
“Nine.” My hands find their way back to my pockets. “Couple days away from ten.”
“How’d she die?”
“Car crash.”
Her attention immediately snaps over to me.
“Yeah, irony not lost upon me.” Rather than watch sadness spread in her stare, I divert mine to my overworked tennis shoes I’m too lazy to replace. “It turned my old man into a raging drunk dickhead devoted to fixing the damn things so that no one ever had to feel what he felt, and it turned me into an obsessive, compulsive car aficionado that more often than not prefers Porsches to pussy.” I let my eyes find hers once more. “Bet you didn’t think I knew a word like that, huh?”
“Pussy?” She teases prior to parking us in the nearby dairy section. “I just assumed you did.” Her backwards movement is accompanied by an eyebrow wiggle. “Kinda like you and my underwear.”
This time a low groan successfully slips into the air only to receive another wicked smirk.
How is she this fucking mesmerizing?
How is it she constantly has my dick doing zero to sixty in record timing?
There’s gotta be a Guinness Book of World Records for this shit, and I think I just broke it.
Watching her collect cream cheese and cheddar cheese leads my thoughts away from how shapely her ass looks in those damn workout shorts to recalling her dinner plans to show gratitude for being able to crash on our ancient fucking futon. “What exactly are you planning to make again?”
“Sausage balls.”
The tiny thrum in mine is expected.
Annoying.
But expected.
Especially considering how her mouth can’t crack open too far without me wanting to bust a nut right on her tongue, covering that little piece of metal in so much cum that she damn near chokes.
Has to let some dribble out past the corners of her mouth until I take two fingers and shove it back inside.
Or let Nolan do that part.
I wouldn’t mind.
I wonder would he.
“They’re messy,” Bunny explains not helping the thoughts that are currently swelling my cock, “and delicious and fun and something that my previous living arrangement didn’t exactly allow me to make.”
“And what exactly was your previous living arrangement?”
The woman who has somehow managed to already put a license plate on my heart carefully places the items in the basket at the same time she announces, “A Lamborghini.”
