I whine, because of courseI will.
He doesn’t hold back, quickly coming and burying himself deep inside me. He folds his body over me and rests his chin on my shoulder. “I like it when you fight me, boy.” He straightens and pulls out, delivering another slap to my ass. “But only so far. Zip up. You can clean upafteryou talk to her. That load stays right where I put it until then.”
“What?” But he’s already heading upstairswithout even bothering to tuck himself in.
“You heard me,” he calls back.
It’s not helping that my cock is once again fully stiff and leaking.
I stare down at it. “You’re a fucking traitor,” I mutter as I carefully tuck it back into my jeans.
* * * *
Lauren texts me when she’s on her way. She usually takes a cab or an Uber home from work. Like me, she doesn’t have a car here in the city,because it’s more trouble than it’s worth.
She lets herself in when she arrives, because I told her to in text.
What I didn’t tell her about was Chris.
“Hey, who’s parked in front of your—hellooo?”
I make it out of the kitchen to see Lauren pull up short when she spots Chris sitting on my couch.
He stands, smiling. “Hello.”
Lauren’s wearing a confused smile, and from the way her head’s cockedas she reaches for a hug from me, I can see she’s already come to a perfectly natural and accurate conclusion, even though I have to omit some of the truth.
“Lauren, honey, this is Christopher Bruunt. Chris, Lauren Baltazar, my best friend.”
“And his ex-wife.” She shakes with him. “Nice to meet you, Chris.”
“Nice to meet you, too, ma’am.”
Her gaze narrows. “You look familiar.” I start to panic.“Wait, you were lead agent for Vice-President Jackson’s Korean trip last year. I remember you.”
He smiles, cool as ice. “Yes, ma’am. That was me.”
This is news to me.
Lauren turns back to me. “Ishewhy you wanted to talk in person?” With the arched eyebrow and her playful tone, I can see where this is going.
“We’ll be right back,” I tell Chris. I grab Lauren’s hand and lead her upstairs tomy bedroom, where I close the door behind us.
“Oh, mygod!” she whispers. “Kev, he’s gor—”
“Afriend,” I interrupt. Which is technically the truth, although not all the truth. “And not really why I wanted to talk to you.”
“Huh?”
I lead her to the end of the bed to sit there, and I’m keenly aware of the state of affairs down there as I do. Fortunately, when I checked in the mirror a few minutesbefore her arrival, I didn’t have a wet spot on my ass.
I kiss her hands and tuck them against my chest. “I have a new job.”
“So tell me about it! Is it for an Internet channel or something?”
I shake my head. “No.” There’s no way into this except to rip the bandage off. “I’m campaign manager for Senator Samuels’ presidential run.”
She squints at me, blinking, her brow all furrowed and scrunchedin that adorable way she has. “Waaaait…whut?”
