I smiled. “You should call in sick.”
Grant stacked the toast onto a plate and checked his watch before shutting off the gas burner. “You have been in town officially twenty-three hours and ten minutes, and you’re already being a bad influence.”
“How about you go in a few hours late?” I suggested, hopping onto a barstool.
He snorted. “I’d never make it in, and you know it.”
“It’s because you find me irresistible.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” he said, adding sausage links to my plate.
“What time should I expect you home?” I asked, sliding the newspaper in my direction. I flipped to the page bookmarked by a gold pen and hummed as I perused Grant’s work.
“Seven at the latest,” he answered. I bobbed my head and began filling in the missing squares.
“G, sometimes, I feel like you’re not even trying,” I mumbled as I filled in the eleven-letter word for lab work focused on data storage devices.
“Excuse me, but I was a little distracted,” he scoffed.
“It’s okay. It’s because I fucked your brains out, huh?” I taunted.
“I should be saying that to you. What do you have planned for today?”
“I plan on making a trip to the old folks home.”
“Don’t call it that. It’s a luxury retirement home,” Grant corrected.
“It’s an old folks home with a hefty fucking price tag. I still don’t understand why Grandma wants to stay there.”
“Maybe because she loves her husband and wants to be with him,” Grant said, dropping my plate beside me. He kissed me roughly on the temple and attempted to walk away when I curved a finger through his belt loop and tugged him back.
“You’re hot when you’re passive-aggressive,” I purred.
“Eat your breakfast before it gets cold,” he said, staring down at me. It was clear he was hungrier for me than the French toast.
“You’re my breakfast,” I insisted, trying to talk Grant out of his drawers.
He’s putting up a valiant effort—I’ll give him that.
He smirked. “Will you do a tune-up on the truck after you visit our grandparents?”
I rolled my eyes.
Everyone always asks me to handle their vehicle maintenance when I come home, but Grant knows the deal: Nothing in life is free.
“What do I get in return?” I asked, draping my arms on the same shoulders my legs were propped against a few hours ago.
“Who told you that you could wear this?” he asked, unbuttoning the dress shirt I wore.
“Stop playing, Grant. You know you love seeing me in your shirts, especially when I wear nothing underneath.”
I whimpered when he parted the engulfing shirt and “accidentally” brushed the back of his hand against one of my nipples. He trailed two fingers between the valley of my breasts to my abdomen at a painstaking pace. He glossed his fingers over my smooth mound and pussy lips. I opened for him, spreading my legs as far as possible without falling off the stool. His lips met mine as he teased my throbbing hole that was still leaking his cum. My lips parted for him, and his tongue playfully caressed mine as he pushed a few centimeters’ worth of fingers into me. I rocked my hips, attempting to push him further, but he was intent on not letting me get my fix. Grant Maxwell Baker was driving me up the fucking wall, and he knew it. I’d bet my Harley that he’d leave me hot and bothered until he slinked back home to deliver superstar dick.
I should put my pussy on lock since he wants to play games. Sigh. That’ll never happen. When it comes to Grant and sex, you might as well call me Waffle House because I’m open to him 24/7, rain or shine. We might even fight, but we’ll be satisfied once everything is said and done.
I groaned when he pressed himself between my thighs, purposely brushing his bulge against my center. He broke away from the searing kiss. “Be good for me while I’m gone, and you’ll get what you’ve been begging for,” he whispered before shoving his fingers into my slightly gaped mouth. I cleaned them off obediently—sucking and humming my pleasure over the digits. I cupped his dick and squeezed roughly, pulling a surprised yelp from him.
“Fuck you, Kiyah!” he snarled, jerking me off the stool and spinning me around. I leaned on it for support and stood on my toes to achieve the perfect angle while he wrestled himself out of his charcoal dress pants.
