Page 89 of Serving Bunt

Neither of us had felt much like fooling around after stuffing our faces with lemon cake. And some of Abuelita’s pastelón. And some of Abuelita’s pastelón layered with lemon cake.

I should’ve trusted my gut on that one, and now my gut was paying the price. If the show Friends had taught me anything, it was that beef and cream did not mix well.

I was feeling a lot better now, my head resting in Diaz’s lap as his fingers combed through my curls in slow, soothing strokes. Mo was tucked behind my knees like an awkwardly shaped heating pad, snoring softly against my legs.

It felt cozy. Intimate.

Like the kind of quiet, easy night I hadn’t realized I’d been craving. Don’t get me wrong, sex was fun. I enjoyed sucking and fucking as much as the next person, but this?

This felt even better.

Too many guys seemed to take this part for granted. They rushed straight to the so-called “main event,” chasing their orgasm like it was the only thing that counted and thus missing how good the quieter moments could be. The flirting and cuddles and casual caresses, like someone’s fingers in your hair.

For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t thinking about tomorrow. I was exactly where I wanted to be.

I closed my eyes and let myself sink deeper into it, turning my head just enough to press a soft kiss to Diaz’s thigh through his shorts. He hummed happily above me and kept stroking my head.

Yeah, I could get used to this.

When the credits finally rolled and I reached for the remote to turn off the television, Mo’s head popped up like she’d been waiting for her cue. She leapt off the couch and raced toward the back door, nails clicking against the hardwood.

“She needs to go out before bed,” I explained, starting to sit up.

Diaz’s hand stayed in my hair for a second longer before he gently nudged me up. “I’ll come with you.”

I smiled and helped him to his feet.

We stepped outside into the cool summer night. The backyard was dark except for the soft glow of the landscape lights I’d installed last year. Mo trotted off toward her favorite patch of grass beyond the patio.

Diaz wandered over to the opposite side of the pool, dipping his toes in the water. “Damn,” he said. “Feels good. Perfect temperature for a swim, too.”

I nodded absently, keeping an eye on Mo as she did her business. “Yeah, I love nights like this.”

Diaz didn’t say anything else. Instead, he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off in one smooth motion before tossing it onto the nearest lounge chair.

“What are you doing?” I croaked.

“Going for a swim,” he announced casually. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and shoved them down without hesitation, catching his boxer briefs along the way. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, already half hard.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never skinny dipped in your own pool.”

“I have,” I muttered, trying not to stare.

In general, I had never been much for skinny dipping, but he didn’t need to know that. The last time I’d properly skinny dipped had been as a teenager, in the pond behind my parents’ house in Alabama. I’d lasted about ten minutes before something had brushed against my leg and I’d practically levitated out of the water, screaming.

I had thought that doing it in my pool might be different, but it turned out that I didn’t really enjoy the feeling of my cock bobbing around in the water like a fucking sea cucumber. It just felt weird.

Clearly, Diaz had no such issue.

I should’ve known he’d be pro-pool cucumber.

He took two steps and cannonballed into the pool. When he surfaced, he wiped the water from his face and grinned like an idiot, droplets clinging to his shoulders and chest.

“Come on, ‘Bama,” he teased, giving me his best pitiful puppy-dog eyes. “It isn’t safe to swim alone.”

“Pathetic,” I told him, shaking my head even as I started stripping. Tank top first, then sweats and boxers. Diaz’s eyes tracked every movement, dark and appreciative until I stood there completely bare under the night sky.

I walked to the edge and stepped off. The water was warm, almost silky against my skin. When I surfaced, Diaz was right there, close enough that our legs brushed underwater. He reached out, sliding a wet hand along my jaw before pulling me in for a quick peck.