AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Keep you.”
Swooning sounds precede a secondary headshake. “Oh, my hormones socan. Not.Handle that this morning.” Her body pops off the wall she’s been resting on and resumes its trek to the kitchen. “Come on, Cowboy. Let’s see if I’ve got anything or if we’ll be makin’ a trip to the corner store.”
“Wedamn sure won’t be,” I correct as I follow behind her. “That’ll be amejob.”
“I can go to the store with you, Slater. My legs are a little sore, but theydostill work.”
Against my own volition, I allow my eyes to drink in the view of them doing exactly that. Each step she takes towards our destination not only has her hips swaying but the Gym Class Heroes lyrics that cascade down the back of her thighs singing to me.
Serenading my shaft to swell to full attention.
To yank her to me and bend her over the couch she loves so much.
When I don’t immediately continue the argument, Arley whips her head over her shoulder, catching me doing the one thing I shouldn’t be caught doing.
No.
She’s my client.
My target.
My best friend.
The last thing I should be doing is imagining fucking her on every solid surface in this penthouse.
And I damn sure shouldn’t let myself getbusteddoing it.
“Standard Operating Procedure dictates that we leave you – the client – unmoved from your secure location for at least the first forty-eight hours, sono, Angel Cake.” Reclaiming my sense of duty is swiftly done. “Youcan’tgo to the store with me.”
“And here I thought the P word was going to be my least favorite during this whole thing.”
I flash her a small smile that she greets with a gag before spinning back on her heels.
The task of checking her bag to no surprise is much worse than I was anticipating. Instead of squatting down to root around and search the object, she bends over. Right at the waist. Plump, perfect ass just unapologetically in my goddamn face.
I see.
I’ve accidentally invited a sexual terrorist into my home.
My cock is no longer safe – although it’s secure – at this location.
Diverting my attention elsewhere requires discipline that I haven’t had to exercise since the days I wore a maroon beret and had to put my advanced skydiving skills to their most optimal use.
It sounds insane – fuck – itfeelsinsane that I’ve gotten through some of the toughest shit this world has to offer yet can barely manage not to lose my shit around a 5’5, brown skinned knockout that’s bent over next to my front door.
Maybe I need to re-enlist?
Look into a few refresher courses?
Because this is fucking embarrassing.
“Nope,” my best friend sings as she straightens herself back to a standing position. “Nada.”
“While I don’t mind goin’ to the store-”
“That means you have to put a t-shirt on.”
“I know.”
