Cash: You know me and my manners. ;)

Me: How busy is the store?

Cash: Not too bad… why?

Me: I was just thinking… about last night.

Cash: Is that right, teach? What about?

Me: Right now? About when my cock was shoved down your throat.

Cash: Oh, so you’re TRYING to get me hard in Target… is that it?

Me: Is it working?

Cash: I don’t know… you tell me.

Cash: *one new picture*

I choke on my own spit when I open the picture. It’s of Cash from the waist down, a very evident bulge poking out of his very tight jeans. His tan hand is wrapped around it. My own cock gives a twitch behind my basketball shorts. Remembering the way he tasted in my mouth, the way he responded to my touch… I want more.

Me: So, what you’re saying is the thought of sucking my dick gets you that hard?

Cash: Uh, yeah, teach. Have you seen your cock?

Me: Once or twice.

Cash: To answer your question… yes. The thought of sucking your dick gets me that hard. The thought of possibly doing it again has me leaking.

Good God. Cash has me wanting things I shouldn’t want, but they feel so right. So natural with him.

Me: What if you could? Do it again.

Cash: I’d say I just wrapped up at Target and happen to be free once I drop my buddy off.

My heart thumps wildly in my chest. This is such a bad idea, but I can’t find it in me to talk myself out of it. The thrill of it is just too good.

Me: How soon can you get here?

Cash: Twenty minutes? Give or take.

Me: 674 Memphis Avenue.

Leaving the gym, I run up the stairs toward my room, stripping out of my clothes, then hopping in the shower. I’m in and out in five minutes, slipping on some comfy clothes, brushing my teeth, and heading back to my office.

Fifteen minutes later, he texts me that he’s outside. Opening the front door, I don’t see his car parked out front. Lifting my brow at him, he walks past me, saying, “Parked down the street… you know, just in case.”

“She isn’t here. She’ll be out for a few hours.”

He stops once he’s inside the house, turning to look at me. “Hey,” he says, a shy smile painted on his face. He looks incredible right now. He’s wearing dark gray skinny jeans that have rips in them, an AC/DC shirt that looks a size too big, with his black converse high tops.

“Hey.” I close the distance between us, wrapping my hand around his neck, hauling him into me. Our lips collide in a blistering kiss, tongues tasting one another, his hands pulling my hips into his.