“They won’t. Not this close to retirement and considering my position.”
More kissing, more…distracting by him.
“What about Thanksgiving?” I ask. That’s next Thursday, and I was dreading it because I was supposed to spend it with my father in DC for the first time in a couple of years.
That was before…this.
He nibbles down the sideof my neck before biting down hard and sucking, right where I know it’d be visible above the collar of a dress shirt. My fingers dig into the back of his shoulders, where I’ve been holding on, and between us in the warm water—thank you, solar heating—I feel our cocks rubbing together. His finger presses more firmly, still not pushing through, but enough of a taste to remind me what’s in store forme.
I’m whimpering and unable to speak coherently by the time he finally eases up so he can examine the hickey I’m sure he left behind.
“We’ll cook here,” he says, apparently satisfied by his handiwork. “We’ll need to go to the store. I only got enough for tonight and tomorrow.”
“Are-are there still TV trucks outside the gate?”
He chuckles. “No. There weren’t any when we came in earlier.”
“Thank god.” I lay my head on his shoulder and close my eyes, still trying to process he’shere.
“Is that why you were down to eating like a broke college student? You were afraid to go out?” He sounds amused but I don’t open my eyes.
“Yeah.”
He tenderly nuzzles my ear. “I’ll take care of you, baby. I promise.”
I shiver in his arms, and not because I’m cold.
Because I’m finallyhome.
