Bad Idea (Stonewall Investigations Miami 1)

“Gonna have to get under the car for that.” Jonah smirked as he got down on his back. “Wanna join me?”

“I was hoping you’d ask.” I got down on his level, back on the gravelly driveway. We scooted back until we were underneath the car, a sky of oily and dirty tubes and pipes and wires now above us.

I had no idea what I was looking at.

Jonah, to his credit, was an exceptional teacher. He showed me, step by step, what he had to do and what he had to check on. I managed to sneak a couple of glances to my side and saw Jonah’s face absolutely glowing, even with some of the dirt that had already made its home on his cheek. At that point, I didn’t care if I learned what the difference was between a carburetor or a fuel injector, all I cared about was how happy I had made Jonah with this surprise.

At one point, while Jonah was working with a particularly small part, his hands started to tremble slightly and the part would fall, skipping across the driveway floor. I would get up and grab it each time, a smile on my face, not feeling bothered in the slightest. I could tell Jonah was feeling bad about himself, but I wanted to make sure he understood I wasn’t Wendy.

I would get up and walk across the earth to pick up something he dropped, and I wouldn’t be fazed by it.

Jonah’s hands seemed to steady themselves after he apologized for the hundredth time (and I told him it wasn’t a problem for the hundredth and one).

After about an hour or so of checking different parts and hearing all kinds of crazy names for said parts, we decided it was time for a lunch break even though it was getting closer to dinnertime. I knew Jonah had a dinner planned later, so I figured a light ‘dunch’ would be good enough. I didn’t want to ruin the great vibe Jonah had going on by taking a long pause, so I offered to go make us sandwiches while Jonah continued working. He had his head craned under the hood, checking some engine part or another, and called a thank-you to me as I disappeared back into the house, a big grin on my face, along with a layer of oil and dirt I could feel caking onto me. I stopped at the bathroom and washed up a bit before I got to making our sandwiches.

In the kitchen, I went to business putting our lunch together. The optics of this didn’t escape me as I smeared mayonnaise over the slices of bread I had laid out. It felt like I was making lunch for my grease-monkey husband, and I might as well have been wearing a big red polka-dot skirt as I twirled around the kitchen, putting together the ham and cheese.

Maybe someone else would be upset by that image, but I, well, kind of fucking loved it. Over the past three weeks, I’d been hell-bent on making Jonah happy, and in turn, I realized whenever he was smiling, so was I. His happiness was mine, and that connection only grew stronger and stronger the longer Jonah stayed at my place.

He’d been looking for apartments; we’d even gone together to go check one out, but after the third roach sighting we decided to nix it and come back to mine, where we ordered a pizza and caught up on the recent Thrones episode.

And then we sixty-nined on the couch, the both of us blowing our loads at the same time, his shooting down my throat in warm gushes that I swallowed down greedily.

Fuck, I was already getting hard thinking about it. I pressed myself against the hard edge of the counter, feeling some kind of relief as the pleasure took over briefly before giving way to how horny I was.

It had been a common trend. I was up for whatever, whenever with Jonah. And judging from how bliss-filled Jonah seemed from a kiss, I assumed he felt the same way.

But there was still more. So much more I wanted to do with him. I wanted to feel him stretching me open, filling me up. I wanted him to claim me, to mount me and ride me like the wild, bucking animals we turned into when our cocks were throbbing and hard and rubbing against each other. And then I wanted to do the same to him. I wanted to hold him underneath me, and I wanted to slowly push into him, taking his virginity, watching those big blue orbs roll back with pleasure as he felt what it was like to have a man inside of him for the first time.

To have me inside of him.

I stepped back from the counter before I rubbed myself to an orgasm. That was how turned on this man made me feel. A man who was presumably still straight, although I had to start thinking that he may have fallen somewhere else on the Kinsey scale judging by how happy he looked with my dick in his mouth.