“Oh.” My mind jumbled as I tried to parse his words. “I was going to saycoffee, but, you know. I used the wordrecoverinstead. But if you want to be a little more unsubtle about it...?” I smirked right back. Never let it be said I wasn’t up for the opportunity to flirt.
“How about we do coffee in the morning? I’m a little sore and need to do some, you know, exercise.”
“Well, I can certainly oversee any exercising you might need to do.” I gave his awesome body a thorough examination. “I should check you over.” When I finally met his gaze again, I arched an eyebrow. “My place okay?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He walked over to his bike.
I followed.
Together, we righted it. Aside from the dust that covered the polished surface, it really appeared like it had survived unscathed.
Much like its rider.
“Follow me? You okay to ride?”
“Yeah. You know, I like riding in more ways than one. And no, I don't have any plans until tomorrow morning. We can do coffee then.”
“Excellent.” I might’ve almost swallowed my tongue.
“I’ve always wanted to fuck a fireman.” He gave me another lazy, long, leisurely perusal.
Despite what had just transpired, my cock perked up. “Give me thirty minutes, and you can say you have.”
I headed to my truck, ensuring my butt jiggled in justthatway.
His whistle emboldened me as I got into my truck. Turning around took a bit of effort on our parts as traffic was heavy with people heading into the city.
Still, we managed and soon were on the way to my place.
With him riding behind.
Hope that’s his favorite place to be.Well, he had said he wanted tofuck a fireman. And this fireman definitely wanted to be fucked.
I pulled up outside my little cabin and tried to see it from an outsider’s perspective.
My grandfather built it. He and my grandmother passed it to my mother when she had me. She gifted it to me when I graduated from the JI.
I didn’t want her to go, but she insisted she was tired of living out in the country. She found a little studio condo in the heart of Mission City and was, to my surprise, flourishing.
On that thought, I parked my truck, tucked my sunglasses into the visor, and hopped out.
My unique companion used the kickstand for his bike. He dismounted—giving me a tantalizing view of those muscular thighs—and headed my way. As he did, he removed his helmet.
His shorn black hair attracted my notice again. Then he removed his sunglasses, and those stunning dark-brown eyes caught my gaze. Here, in the shadow of the trees, the pupils were so big that I barely saw any of his irises.
I stuck out my hand. “Finn. Well, my mother named—and still calls me—Finnegan. She named me after the dog on Mr. Dressup. Which I suppose is better than being named Casey. Well, I’ve heard of a few famous Caseys, so maybe not the end of the world. Not that I ever admit to being named after a dog—”Well shit, dumbass, you just did…
The handsome man shook my hand.
Strong, but not overpowering.
“Ulysses. After the James Joyce novel. I read it once. Wasn’t all that impressed. But my lit teacher loved it, so I wrote a paper about it. She was thrilled and gave me an A-plus in the class.”
I cocked my head. “Something tells me you got a lot of good grades.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Now, how could you possibly know that?”
Heat crept up from my chest, up my neck, and into my cheeks. “Well, I just…” I swallowed.
