The Blind Date

Riley’s hands go to my shoulders as she finds a rhythm of her own, hips stroking up and down tantalizingly. “Fuck, Riley. That feel good? Use me, Sunshine.”

She lets out a little cry that gets stuck in her throat at my words, and I think she likes a little dirty talk. Who’d have thought Little Miss Happy Skies and Sunbeams would like that? I can’t wait to see what else she likes.

It’s been ages since I dry humped through clothes, but as soon as I consider getting less fabric between us, Raffy starts barking.

“Rowf! Rowf! Rowf!” he yaps, and Riley startles to look at her dog, who’s glaring at us. Actually, he seems to be glaring . . . at Riley.

“Raffy, you can go to bed if you want to.”

She points toward the hallway, but the fluffy cockblocker barks again. Looking around Riley, I stare at Raffy, but apparently, I haven’t earned that much cred with him yet. “Come on, man, I brought you blueberry muffin dog biscuits. Help me out?” I plead.

Riley turns sharp eyes on me, but there’s a smirk on her lips. “Bribing my dog with biscuits and me with cheesecake?”

I hold up my right hand, hovering it over her left breast even as I pretend to be innocent. “I plead the fifth.”

Riley laughs, which seems to make Raffy angry because he hops up on the couch with us, nosing right between us and pushing Riley back. He snuffles against Riley’s chest, something I wanted to do myself a minute ago, leaving a trail of wet nose marks on her tank top.

“Raffy, no! Down!”

“Yeah,” I grumble, but a second later, I’m wincing when a puppy paw starts digging into my balls. “Oof!”

I recoil, trying to save myself, or at least my boys, and in the skirmish to protect my future children, Riley and Raffy slide out of my lap and to the couch next to me. I cup myself, doing a system check. Luckily, everything seems to be in working order because with the slightest touch of my hand, my cock jerks, wanting to settle between Riley’s thighs again. Clothes on or not, either will do.

But nope, the moment’s gone. Riley’s pulled Raffy to her chest, snuggling the fluffy cockblocker the way I was nuzzling her neck just a minute ago. Meanwhile, Raffy’s licking the few scraps of cheesecake I missed off Riley’s neck and eyeing me. He barks again, and I swear it sounds like ‘ha-ha.’

I’m jealous. I’m jealous as hell of a Schnauzer because I wanted that cheesecake. Every molecule that touched her skin. But Raffy seems to have gotten any residual bits because he’s moved on to licking his lips and paws, likely making sure he got all the dog biscuit crumbs too.

“I thought we were buds, man. Not cool,” I tell the scruffy guy, but I pet his head as I say it.

Riley laughs and then sighs happily, her eyes sparkling at my conversation with her bodyguard. “It is getting late, I guess. We need to do our bedtime routine.”

I arch a brow. “You have a bedtime routine with your dog?”

Riley nods. “Of course. First, he’s going to need to tinkle, and he’s got a favorite tree that he insists on after dark. Then I wash my face. I wash his face. I put lotion on my face and hands and Raffy’s lotion on his paws.”

She holds up the dog’s paw, which looks . . . like a dog’s paw. Black, a little bit of callus, some fur between the pads. Nothing looks particularly special to me, but what do I know?

But to Riley, apparently, it’s important. “And then I tuck him in and sing him a lullaby.”

I blink, not sure what I just heard. “Sing? A lullaby? Are you serious?”

“It’s his favorite,” she says, scratching behind Raffy’s ears. “I made it up myself.”

Well, I always knew she was unique, and I always knew she had some different points of view. Now I see that she’s a little crazy too. Then again, it’s a cute, sunshiny, good kind of craziness, and I have to smile a little. “Can I hear?”

“Nope,” she says immediately. “It’s only for Raffy and me.”

I thought I was jealous before, but now, I’ve never been more jealous of a dog in my life. I consider putting on a dog costume so Riley would snuggle me, rub my belly, and sing me to sleep.

Shit, I need to get out of here. Head home to pump some iron, or eat a whole pizza while chugging beer, or maybe hit a late-night cowboy bar and ride the mechanical bull on the way home. Something rough and tough. Like me, I think, but I’m wondering if that’s true considering I’ve never been to a single cowboy bar and bedtime snuggles sound infinitely more pleasurable.