AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She’ll be the first we share.
The only.
Nolan’s phone begins buzzing across his bedside table prompting me to call out, “That’s the fifth one this hour.”
My best friend pops open one eye to spot my position.
“Third in the last twenty.”
Deep grumbles seem to successfully stir his bedmate awake.
“Coffee’s already in a cup.”
More grunts echo around the room at the same time her stare settles on me.
Mine.
Widens from surprise but swiftly melts in what can only be described as a sympathetic nature, although I’m not entirely sure why.
She has nothing to be sorry for.
I’m great at sharing.
At least with him.
“Fuck. Me,” Nolan mumbles during his shift upward. “Guess I need to go rinse my balls in the sink.”
“Might wanna give the teeth a go too.”
He grunts in agreement, swings his legs over his side of the bed, and stands before indulging a good stretch.
While this isn’t the first time, I’ve seen him stretch – or naked for that matter – it is the first time I openly admire what I see.
Tattoos – the odes to the life we live now – and burns – reminders of the life he’d lived before – are spread out all across his back like a junkyard project put together with only the spare parts a person could find.
I’ve never hated it.
Why would I?
Sure, top of the line, custom and shiny and brand fucking new are all great, but there’s so much to appreciate about an older model. One you know has been roughed up. Banged. Can handle a harder hit. Last longer under pressure. Will require a little more love from you to roar like it once did.
Maybe that’s one reason why I’ve always loved him.
He isn’t easy.
He requires work.
And effort.
And I treasure the shit out of getting to spend time under that type of hood.
My gaze manages to grab one more eyeful of his toned ass prior to him heading for his bathroom. His semi receives a small tug that’s mindlessly followed by a lazy scratch to his sack, both indications he’s still in the process of waking up. That he’s still in that phase where he remembers his name and not much else. Rather than continue to track his movements, I shift my glare to where Bunny’s still presenting me with an apologetic gaze. One that’s pleading for forgiveness.
Understanding.
Mercy.
Poor sweet thing…
