Needless to say, I was trying out a whole new set of stunts last night.
I grinned, something that didn’t always happen in the mornings. On the floor was a pair of light-pink Calvin Klein briefs. I leaned over and grabbed them, sliding them on and having another stretch before I got out of bed.
The clock on my nightstand said it was eight in the morning. I could hear the TV on in the living room. That was Beckham’s doing, who disliked being inside a silent house for too long. I didn’t mind it as much as I did at first. Now, I was getting used to having the white noise of CPAP commercials and old reruns of Sister, Sister in the background.
My feet were cold as the floor switched from rug to faux wood. Mason, who had been lounging in the hallway, stood up with a coo and a purr and followed me into the kitchen, where a half-naked and devilishly handsome British man was making me breakfast.
I stepped behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist.
“Morning,” Beckham said. I could hear the smile on his face. I answered with a trail of soft kisses on Beckham’s strong back.
I took a step back, admiring all of Beckham. He wore green boxers that hung low enough for me to see his ass. My mind replayed all the positions we had tangled ourselves into last night. My dick twitched in my briefs in response, even though I’d already come twice less than twelve hours ago.
“What’s for breakfast?” I asked, trying to get my mind off sex.
“Sunny side up eggs, buttered toast, and nice greasy slabs of bacon.”
“Shit, that’s sex.”
Beckham laughed as he transferred some sizzling strips of bacon onto a paper-towel-covered plate.
So much for not thinking about sex.
“Still thinking about last night?” he asked.
“Last night? You mean two hours ago?”
More laughter. Everything felt good. Like there was a silver haze in the air, an aura that lifted my spirits and kept a smile on my face. I started to set the table for us, bringing out the jug of fresh orange juice and placing cups and utensils in the spots where Beckham and I normally sat. As I did that, I couldn’t help but steal glances at the delicious-looking ass Beckham was teasing me with as he worked on transferring the eggs to a plate.
We had celebrated hard last night, and for good reason.
Juan was finally behind bars. After we went to the police with the tape, they went into swift action. At first, they had some trouble finding Juan, but finally, after a week of searching, they were able to arrest him yesterday. He admitted to the assault and to the stabbing. They had him on tape saying it, plus the tape Beckham had uncovered. He couldn’t slither out of it.
The monster who’d taken Derrick’s life was locked up. I had never gotten a more restful sleep, even if it was only two hours’ worth.
And there was more to it. When the cops had gone to arrest Juan, they found Mario there as well. And they both resisted the arrest. Mario, who already had a warrant out for him, shot at the police as they led them on a high-speed and nearly lethal chase through the streets of Miami Beach. Thankfully, no one got hurt and the two assholes were cuffed and thrown into the back of a cop car. And the fact that there hadn’t been any threats on my life since made me feel safer than I had in a while.
It finally felt like I could put it all behind me and focus on what was ahead.
Beckham brought a plate of sizzling bacon and a big bowl of scrambled eggs and placed them on the center of the table. “It smells amazing, babe.”
“Thank you,” Beck said, turning to grab something else off the counter. I took it as my chance to cop a feel and slap Beck’s ass. He jumped and gave me a little wiggle, inviting another slap.
And I gave it to him. I chuckled and turned to pour myself a glass of orange juice. Suddenly, I was pressed to the counter by Beckham’s weight as he came up behind me, grabbing my hips.
I giggled like a schoolgirl the second his lips brushed against my neck.
“Oh,” I said, feeling him getting hard against me, “is this on the breakfast menu, too?”
I rubbed my ass back on him. Beckham’s hands moved from my hips and slipped underneath my underwear. He grabbed me in his hands and stroked. I dropped my head back and shut my eyes as he continued to plant kisses on my neck, my cheek, my ear. All the while he continued to stroke, tightening his grip, rubbing his thumb over my leaking slit.
“Come here, you.” I turned around and wrapped my hands around the back of his neck. I leaned up and kissed him, our tongues already experts with the steps of this fiery dance. He throbbed between us. It shot a pulse down my back. The trail of heat seared through me, tightening my balls, making me moan into the kiss.