“There better not be.” I rub my stubbled jaw. “I’ll go in next week to meet with prospective buyers on behalf of the owner, but other than that, the interim manager should have everything under control.”
“Good news.”
“Back to my question,” I say. “Today is Sunday, and I’m yours for the day. How do you want to use me?”
Her eyes widen. “That’s a loaded question. Can I use your tongue all day long?”
“You can use my tongue when we get back later today. Come on, Goldilocks, it promises to be a beautiful spring day. What do you want to do?”
She taps a finger against her chin. “Hmm… I don’t know. I’m open.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
“What did you have in mind? Should I be worried?”
“No to the latter question. And for the first one, you’re going to learn how to skate.”
She flinches. “Why would I do that?”
“You’re fake dating a former NHL All-Star player and you’re his social media manager slash public relations liaison who’ll take care of his annual hockey charity. You should know what it’s like to feel the ice under your blades.”
She blinks. “That sounds like torture. I’m not all that athletic. Chances are, I’ll injure myself.”
“Don’t worry, I’d never let that happen,” I say. “But before we make a move, I need you to take care of me.”
I peel back the sheet, revealing both our naked bodies. My morning wood stiffens at thesight of her gorgeous tits.
“Well, good morning to you, handsome.” She takes hold of my cock. “What will it be? Hand? Mouth? Or pussy?”
I place a hand over her tit and squeeze. “How about all three?”
She squeezes my cock in return. “All three? My, you are greedy.”
“Not greedy,” I say, twisting her nipple.
“Ow!”
“I’m hungry. Hungry for more of you, Goldilocks.”
She shifts up and over and in between my legs, dangling her tits over my cock. “I’m hungry, too.” She licks her lips. “Lie back and enjoy the ride.”
She dips her head and swirls her tongue over my tip before sucking me into her hot mouth.
I do as I’m told with a contented sigh as my head hits the pillow.
Chapter 43
You’re the first
Harley
After a hearty brunch of champions at Number 22, Kaz whisked me to a sporting store to buy hockey gear.
With the backseat of his Mercedes filled with bags, courtesy of his Black American Express card, we headed to Northview Ice Pavilion in Long Island. It’s a perfect spring day, and I can’t wrap my head around the fact I’m about to freeze my ass off inside a rink.
On the upside, if we keep active, there won’t be any downtime for Kaz to interrogate me about my good for nothing family. I dodged a bullet this morning, but I can’t keep being this evasive about my parents and my sister forever. Not while I’m living under his roof.
I sigh, close the locker, hoist my sports bag over my shoulder, and exit the changing room. I turn the corner, and a giant with both fists hooked at his waist awaits me.
