And now my dick’s awake.

Scott stumbled out of the bathroom, still pulling up his pants. Matthew made movements toward the open door, but I shoved him back.

“No. I need to get ready, and the three of you need to get out.”

“Come on! I just need to take a piss!” Matthew whined.

“Go to the main house. Piss in the alley. I don’t give a fuck.” I closed the bedroom door, stripped out of my still wet underwear and shorts, and stumbled into the bathroom. My dick bobbed out in front of me, hard and ruddy dark, pointing the way as I reached in to turn on the shower. While the water heated up, I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were bloodshot, and my face was covered in half a day’s scruff, but I saw no bruises or welts, so maybe she didn’t hit me. But fuck… I wished she had.

Part horrified that I had crossed that boundary without her consent and so aroused that my head was swimming, I stepped into the shower and stood under the waterfall of hot water. I closed my eyes, gripped my dick, and dug deep for some remnant of the stolen kiss.

I was already halfway drunk when we came in from dinner last night. Darcy was in the kitchen, looking flushed and dewy and wearing an indulgent smile as she welcomed us. We bickered about who was gonna buy the pizzas, and I pulled her into my arms, and god yes, I remembered how that felt. Her body was tight but soft in the places I liked my women soft — breasts, ass, hips. She’d laughed when I twirled her, and after that laugh, we shared a moment…an almost kiss.

But Scott wasn’t in the kitchen then, so that wasn’t what he was talking about.

That moment with her against my body was good, though. So good. Good enough to have me tugging on my dick as I squeezed my eyes even more tightly closed, still reaching for the actual kiss, and—

“Oh…”

She was in the doorway wearing a long, black silk robe with colorful birds of paradise all over it.

Yes…that was it.

I could tell that the robe had been hastily tied because it slipped off of her shoulder, and she flashed one firm, smooth brown thigh as she descended the porch stairs and marched across the flagstone patio that surrounded the pool. Her hair was tied up in a silk scarf, exposing her long neck.

She’d scolded me. “Tommy, I thought you had this under control?” she’d said, pointing to Matthew bent over a bush at the far end of the yard retching.

That scolding had made me climb out of the pool and drag the hose out, which she’d snatched from my hands to spray the flower bed.