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“How about for lunch I show you just how little I’m not.” The devilish glint in his eye ignites an ache between my thighs. “Just how nice…” he momentarily pauses to remove his grease stained t-shirt over his head in one swift motion, “I grew up.”
Abs hard enough to break a tooth on pull low whimpers out of us both; however, it’s Mutt that manages to speak. “I was uh…thinkin’ about maybe grabbin’ us sandwiches from The Dig Site…but this,” his eyes follow the thin trail of hair leading from Kipp’s bellybutton to the top of his pants, “will be much better.”
Agreed.
I will happily be the ham in this sandwich.
“Take her to the hood, Sir,” The Kid firmly instructs, leaving no room for debate or questions or objections.
Not that we have any.
An unmistakable rumble shakes Nolan’s frame prior to him grabbing my hand.
Leading me around the counter.
Past the tools.
Right to the front of a luxury sedan.
“Be my good girl,” Kipp purrs as he prowls closer, “and lie on top of it.”
Resisting the order isn’t even considered.
“I wanna see her tits, Sir.”
Nolan instantly leans over my sprawled-out position and yanks the light pink long sleeve shirt I got from Clothes Valley yesterday upward, exposing the nude bra I’d previously thought wouldn’t be seen by anyone else.
It’s the one typically reserved for laundry day, which it is.
Them seeing it should fill me with embarrassment; however, it doesn’t.
Strange as it is…it feels like this isn’t the first time it’s happened in spite of the fact that it is.
It’s crazy how comfortable things are between us.
How comfortable they can be.
Will always be.
You know…if I let it.
If I let myself stay.
“I wanna see her nipples pointing at you.” A tiny pause is presented between declarations. “Me.”
Growls seep through gritted teeth in tandem with the fabric being ripped down to force them to spill over the material’s rim, dark centers pebbling to the point of pain underneath two hungry grazes.
“Such a good girl for me,” praises the man currently in control. “Show me how good, Sir.” Kipp steals a small lick of his own lips. “I wanna see how fucking ready she is.”
Animalistic grumbles echo throughout the garage making me wetter than I already am. Watching Nolan hook his fingers around the edges of my yoga pants is enough on its own to send shivers down my spine, yet the feeling of his digits scraping my hips, my thighs, my fucking calves as he savagely drags down the clothing is what causes my body to tremble.
Breath to become choppy.
“Shoes stay on, baby,” Kipp informs after Nolan discards my pants somewhere off to the side. “You’re gonna need the leverage.”
One whimper is all that manages to escape past my parted lips.
“Open her up for me,” our boyfriend commands, heated stare honed in on Nolan. “I wanna see all of her.”
