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Now.
Her using that weapon of mass destruction around the tip, licking up the precum I know is soaking my boxers, and him letting his scruff scrape my thighs as he presses his mouth to my sack, lapping up any of her spit that manages to escape.
I’d probably cross the finish line a little too fast, but fuck me, would it be worth it.
Frustrated groans not so quietly seeping free are swiftly followed by me adjusting my thickening dick that doesn’t understand why it’s really not the time for that shit.
Not when this much unknown shit is just hanging in the air like a cheap air freshener.
That shit drives me fucking insane.
You can spend all that money to get your girl waxed and detailed and waxed again but your ass can’t spring for something a little better than that palm tree shaped piece of shit you grabbed when you stopped to buy yourself smokes?
Come on.
Have some self-respect.
Do better.
I mean if you’re not willing to spring for one of the fancy auto rotators at least get a fucking vent clip.
Finally finished with her hard stirring, Bunny turns around to face me and blows the loose strands of hair out of her sparkling brown eyes. “Done.”
It’s impossible not to smirk at her defeated demeanor. “Did you win?”
“You won’t if you don’t get your ass up and set the table.”
“Don’t be pissy at me.” Light chuckles escape at the same time I rise to my feet to cross into the kitchen space, beer still in hand. “You’re the one who insisted on making whipped potatoes from scratch.”
“You said they were your favorite!”
“They are,” I promptly reassure after putting my bottle down on our table. “But they’re a bitch and half to make which is why I learned to love the art of the instant potato.”
“Is that really an art?” She sassily counters, tossing me her own teasing smile. “Or is that an art the same way fingerpainting is?”
“That is art.”
“Just because Mutt puts your pictures on the fridge doesn’t make you Picasso.”
This time her snark receives her a playful slap on the ass that not only has her squeaking in surprise but giggling.
Man, do I love having a woman who enjoys a good spank.
And can give one too.
Anytime she sees me bent over underneath a hood, she makes sure to deliver one herself.
The lesson I’ve learned?
Announce when I’ve got spillable shit in my possession.
“I just…” her stare attaches itself to my table setting movements, “wanted to do something special for you today because you did something special for me.”
“Really?” Putting the plates in place precedes shooting her another arrogant grin. “You sure it has nothing to do with a certain shop girl wanting to look under my hood and you being pissed off that she didn’t realize from the starting line that we’re together?”
Bunny’s gorgeous glare narrows in my direction just as Nolan steps back inside with two full plates. “Mutt?”
“Hm?” He hums in return during his plate balancing act.
