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And that’s when Joel starts to pull away and slam his walls back in place, and I think—Fuck. This isn’t looking good at all.
Chapter Twenty Five
CANDY
Title: Not Your Typical Drug
From Candy Boys (Blog serial)
“Are you awake, pet?” he asks me, and I shift in the cradle of their arms.
“Depends. What do you have in mind?”
“Sex. Then breakfast. Then more sex.”
“Sounds good to me,” I mumble, stretching.
I could get used to this, I really could. Waking up to two sex gods every morning. It’s frigging scary how much I want it.
Question is, will this last, and will my heart take it if it doesn’t?
And hey, isn’t this—sleeping with two men—exactly what the doctor prescribed?
We sleep together on Jet’s bed, one pile of naked limbs and warm breath, until at some point at night Jet is gone, and then Joel, too, leaving me to hog the whole width of the mattress and the covers.
Bliss.
After a while, though, I start searching for them, in my sleep, on the bed, until I’m wide awake and slipping from under the covers. Wrapping a sheet around me, I go hunting for my boys.
I find only Jet. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. His dark hair is tousled, his spectacular chest bare, his tattoos shifting every time he lifts his cup. He’s dressed only in a pair of black boxer briefs, and he’s barefoot. That’s so sexy. I love men’s feet.
Okay, I’m totally lying out of my ass here. I couldn’t care less about men’s feet. I bet they’re mostly like Hobbit feet, hairy and huge.
But I love Jet’s feet. They’re strong and slim with high arches and long toes.
First time in my life I’m obsessing over a guy’s feet, I swear to God. I need to check out Joel’s feet, too. With all that has been going on whenever we get naked together, I never got the chance to take notice.
It’d be nice, I guess, to lounge around the kitchen together in the morning, having coffee and cereal.
It would have been nice. If Joel was here.
“Where is he?” I ask, and snicker when Jet jumps a foot off his chair with a gasp. “Morning.”
“Holy shit, girl, you scared the crap out of me.” He falls back, a hand pressed to his chest, and I start to feel bad when I see how pale his face has gone. “Jesus.”
“Sorry.” I approach him, and when he doesn’t flinch, I press my hand to his jaw. “You all right?”
“Yeah, yeah. Shit.” He puts his hand on top of mine, and lets out a breath, his eyes wide and dark with shock. “Joel’s gone running.”
“Oh. He does that every morning?”
Jet shakes his head. “Sometimes. He likes moving. We also wrestle a few times a week, though we haven’t done that lately.”
“Why not?”
“Too caught up with you.” He smirks at me, and I’m relieved to see color has returned to his cheeks.
“I’d love to see you two wrestle.”
