Page 91 of Serving Bunt

“Depends on how many I can talk my man into.”

My heart gave a painful little tug.

I could see it.

A backyard full of our friends and family. Dogs underfoot, and yes, I did mean dogs because if I had my way, each of the kids would get their own. It was the best way to teach them responsibility.

Soren would man the grill while Pink and Tucker stacked their flag football teams with my nieces and nephews. I could practically hear Diaz arguing with his sisters in two languages at once while a caramel-skinned, redheaded child tugged on his shirt, demanding attention.

For the first time in my life, the picture felt less like a daydream and more like a vision of the future.

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

Diaz tilted his head. “Yeah?”

I smiled.

“I think I’d like that, too.”

His expression warmed. He pulled me closer until our chests brushed, then kissed me, sweet at first, almost reverent.

But the sweetness quickly dissipated into something needier. His tongue slid against mine, slow and hungry, one hand sliding down to grip my ass as he pressed me tighter against him. I groaned into his mouth, nails carving half-moons into his skin.

Water splashed around us as Diaz suddenly took control, walking me back until my heels met tiled steps. He guided me down to the top one. I shivered when the cool air brushed the top half of my cock.

Diaz stayed submerged, splayed out and floating between my spread thighs. He looked like a merman. A very horny, very smug merman who had traded his seashell bra for tattoos and a wicked grin.

Now there was a porno I could get on board with.

He leaned in and took me into his mouth in one smooth motion.

“Fuck,” I groaned, falling back against the cement wall.

My merman could suck cock.

The contrast was insane. Warm water lapping at my thighs, the light breeze ticking my exposed skin, and the wet heat of Diaz’s mouth wrapped around my length. Every time he dipped lower, trying to take me deeper, his face was resubmerged, bubbles rising around his cheeks and nose. The sight was both hot and absurdly funny.

Jesus, please don’t drown him, I thought, a half-hysterical laugh bubbling up in my chest. How the hell would I explain that one to the team?

Sorry, guys. He drowned on my dick in the shallow end.

He hummed around me, the vibration shooting straight up my spine, and kept working me with perfect precision. Tongue swirling, hand stroking what he couldn’t take, water streaming down his face every time he bobbed down.

I wrapped my finger around the back of his neck, guiding him up and down. “Shit, Peter. That feels so good.”

I let him continue for a few more minutes, lost in the heat and the slick sounds. Eventually, I tugged gently at his head.

“I don’t want to come yet.” I panted.

Diaz pulled off with a wet pop, looking up at me with a grin. “You won’t hear me complaining.”

“No.” The hand around his neck tightened, holding him off. “I . . . I want to come in your ass.”

His eyes darkened. “You asking to fuck me, ‘Bama?”

“Yes, please.”

I slid my hand around until I gripped his throat. Not too tight, but just enough pressure to let him know where my mind was at. “You gonna be a good boy and let me?”