“No, no. No complaints. I'm just amazed.” He removes the cap on his bottle and takes a sip, his lifted arm granting me full view of that jacked body.
I lean back against the counter and take in the beautiful display before saying, “Like, honestly, please tell me you do steroids.”
“What?”
“That body. I just need to know for my own sanity that you’re, like, shooting up in the ass to get these big-ass muscles.”
“Protein shakes all the way, but I guess you can get those in the ass, too, can’t you?”
“Oh, aren’t we suddenly hip with butt sex?”
“I’m not doing too bad. I keep getting requests.”
“The guy who needs it from you must need it all the time. I can only imagine what sort of saggy hole he must have by now.”
“Actually,” he says, approaching me, his brow cocked in a way that’s so fucking sexy that I want to throw myself back on this counter and let him have his way with me, “he has the tightest hole ever.”
He sets his beer beside me, kneels down, wraps his arms around me, and hoists me into the air. Setting my ass on the kitchen counter, he kisses me. It’s that slow kiss again. I notice it because most of the kisses have been frenzied, like we’re making up for lost time.
As he pulls away, he scans my face. “You look worn out as fuck.”
“Wow. You just lost all nice points for the day.”
“Not what I meant. I was just thinking that you still look fucking hot even when you’re drenched in sweat and still wishing you were in bed.”
“You have no idea how much I wish I was in bed right now.”
He grips my ass cheeks with either hand, and a deep, low growl slips past his lips. “I’m not caving to you, temptress.”
“Oh, am I a temptress now?”
“You’ve always been that. Luring innocent straight boys like me from the ladies. They would be so unappreciative.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“Speaking of temptresses, what does your dad think about some dude stealing you away from your job to work on his sister’s house?”
“Are you asking if he thinks we’re an item?”
He laughs. “Not what I meant. Like, this must seem random to him.”
“Not at all… since I haven’t mentioned it yet.”
“Oh, really?”
“I know my dad. He’s not going to be cool with me spending what he sees as all these work hours working essentially for free.”
“You're helping a friend out. You gotta give your dad some credit.”
“I think you might be giving him a little more than he deserves. I'm pretty confident Dad would see this as unpaid labor. I know I make him sound like such a dick every time I talk about him, but he's a really good guy.”
“I wish I could say the same thing about my father.”
It’s sad how quickly his expression can shift from playful to intense.
“This is none of my business,” I say. “And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but have you actually talked to him about what happened when you were younger?”
“What the fuck is there to say? He knows what he did, and he’s certainly never brought it up. Neither of them have.”
