Talkin' Trash (Bear Bottom Guardians MC 2)

They didn’t have all the information, of course, because a lot of it couldn’t be shared in order to protect Hoax’s privacy, but they’d garnered enough tidbits from bystanders that they weren’t completely in the dark.

“Here,” he said, handing me my coffee.

I blinked when I saw that it was the right color—a pale tan.

“You know how I like my coffee?” I asked in surprise.

He walked away while grunting. “Uh-huh. I’m going to catch a quick shower. The clothes I went out and bought you are on the counter. I hope that they fit.”

My eyes went to the clothes after I finished watching Linc walk away, his cup of coffee at his lips as he sipped his morning brew and moved down the hall.

Pushing the newspaper aside with a huff, I got up and went to my clothes, marveling at what a good job he’d done picking them out.

They all would fit perfectly. I was a medium top, large bottom girl. I had tits and all, but they weren’t massive. I had thick, shapely thighs, and a round ass that I got through a lot of hard work and exercise.

Speaking of which, I started to squat down, then back up, over and over again, until I reached two hundred.

Half a month ago, Pru had shown me a squat challenge that she’d asked me to do with her, and I’d agreed.

What I hadn’t realized was the number of squats that I had agreed to do.

This particular squat challenge required that each morning when you first woke up, you had to do a hundred squats. Each time after you went to the bathroom, you had to do another fifty. I woke up once in the middle of the night to go, and those bitches weren’t happening when I was half asleep. I’d break my damn neck.

By the time I’d finished, my legs were sore and shaky, and I was more than ready to change out of Linc’s underwear.

How did he move around in these? They were horrible. They clung to all the wrong spots, and I was fairly positive that the little flap in front wasn’t centered where it needed to be, even for a man.

Snatching up my clothes and admiring them along the way, I made a mad dash for Linc’s bedroom, hoping that he closed the door to the bathroom.

I was not changing in the middle of his living room.

No way.

It’d be my luck that his parents would walk through the door and see me in all my naked glory.

I hurried back to the bedroom with my newly acquired clothes, stopping when the panties he got me fell out of my hands and landed on the floor right outside his door.

I took a step forward, and I felt the floorboards creak and froze.

A creaking floorboard.

A. Creaking. Floorboard.

Had Linc seen me masturbate? Heard me call his name out in the throes of passion?

Oh dear, sweet baby Jesus.

He had. Instinctively, I just knew that he had.

Yet he hadn’t mentioned it.

But that’d been what was wrong with his dick earlier when I’d first seen the paper.

He’d seen me, and I’d made him hard.

I, Conleigh Reins, had made Linc James hard. Again.

Score!

Throwing the clothes onto the bed and checking that the door to the bathroom was indeed shut, I stripped off my clothes and reached for the first thing that he’d gotten me. The cutest pair of panties in the world. They were a bright neon green with purple stars all over them. Seriously, I’d have picked the same thing out myself. And, on top of picking them out himself, he’d laundered them. I dropped them on the bed and reached for the bra.

Unfortunately, in my haste, what I forgot to do was check to see if the shower was still running.

In my rush to change, I didn’t notice that I wasn’t hearing anything coming from the bathroom.

Nothing but a rhythmic sound coming from somewhere in his room but I had no clue as to what it was.

I’d just bent over the bed to grab the bra that matched the panties when I heard a grunt.

I straightened and whirled, just now realizing that the closet that I’d closed earlier in my search for clothes was now open, and a very tall, muscular form was standing inside.

Oh, and he just came in his hand and was staring at me like I was a tall drink of water that he wanted to gulp right up.

Both of us stared at each other for long seconds as we tried to decide what we should do.

He was the first to break, despite his precarious position.

“I need a towel,” he rumbled.

I didn’t want to get him a towel. I wanted to gather his release that was pooling in his hand, lubricate his shaft with it, and slide that fat cock of his into my depths.