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“Okay, fine. This one is different, though. He even has a dead mom,” Caleb adds far too excitedly.
“A sexy maid, of course,” I say, batting my lashes. “Well, that I have to see,” he quips back far too quickly.
“God dammit!” I yell. Which finally gets him to laugh. And it’s a great one too. A hearty, deep, boisterous sound from the back of his throat that makes his jaw tense and his neck jump. Uninhibited. And, dare I say, sexy.
“Shit…” he whispers under his breath, turning it over with a grip on my wrist that I love. “It’s adorable,” he says, studying it intently. Then he tuts and lets go, practically tossing it aside. “What am I supposed to say?”
He chuckles nervously. “I know, fuck, sorry. I’ve never—well, I’ve never forgotten to pretend I’m not checking someone out before.” He cringes bashfully, the corner of his lips still upturned.
“I was thinking more along the lines of how is someone like you single? but sure,” he says.
Perhaps it’s the way his eyes search my face like he’s trying to place me. Like we’ve met before.
He turns to face me, and his eyes are darkened, enlarged pupils and tight-knit brow. “Why was that so hot?” he asks, whispering, his voice near disbelief.
The moment he spots me, he automatically lowers his hand to his lap and adjusts his trousers. Which does great things for my ego. “Damn,” he says, his jaw working.
“I can see that.” Bo wets his lips. His hands rub up and down his own thighs as if they’re seeking out friction of any sort. “It’s a good look.” He clears his throat, sitting up slowly. “Great—you look… great.” He smiles, but his eyes don’t—they remain raptly focused on me.
“I guess you were kidding about the sexy maid costume, then,” he says, his hands roaming from the back of my knees to the crease below my ass, his thumbs playing with the strings crisscrossing my thighs like a harp.
“Disappointed?” I ask, leaning forward. The tip of my ponytail falls against the hollow of his cheek. Bo tilts his nose toward it, and his eyes close briefly as he breathes in.
“Take all the time you need,” he says, words parted by tender kisses on my neck that have my eyes drooping, weighed down by heady lust.
Bo begins undoing my shirt. At first, I think he’s teasing me with a slow, seductive unravelling. But then I realise he’s matching my pace purposefully, clearly slower than he’s capable of for my benefit.
I literally love this man alr
He stops me by ducking his head lower, sucking at the top of my breast that has spilled over the cup of my bra.
I drop my smaller hand off his head and over his shoulder, hearing the words of my ex loud in my ear. Don’t. No, use your other hand.
“I liked that,” Bo says, mouth and nose pressed under my collarbone as he kisses his way up toward my neck.
“Will you lie down for me?” he asks, gentle tone spoken against my cheek. “I want to see all of you.”
Bo moves to the foot of the bed, standing only in his black trousers. I watch as he takes off three rings without removing his eyes from my body. The rings clatter to the floor around his feet, but he doesn’t seem to care where they fall.
“Win,” he says, my name an anguished plea, shaking his head. “Fucking look at you.”
He points at my knees with both hands. “Open those for me, honey.”
“Call me honey again,” I say, grinding myself against his hardness. “You liked that?” he muses, his voice cocky. “It sorta just slipped out.”
These two have me kicking my feet and giggling ughh i love them
Bo’s parted lips are sparkling wet and slightly swollen, and his eyes are satiated. “Oh, hell yeah,” he breathes out a laugh, “I could definitely be into being called sir.”
“Have at it, honey,” he drawls, his voice arrogant as he falls onto his back with his hands braced behind his head.
Bo’s dick is huge.
“There’s just so much I haven’t done, you know?” I say. “What?” he asks, laughing exasperatedly and running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to travel, maybe have kids, learn how to make my own candles. I still haven’t watched all nine seasons of The Office. I thought I had more time.” “Are you implying—” “That this dick is going to murder me? Yes,” I interrupt.
“Do your hands get tired of holding it while you pee?” “I’m gonna leave,” he mumbles.
“No more questions.” He runs his thumb across my mouth until I part my lips for him. Then he moves his thumb between my lips and pushes down against my tongue, prying my jaw open. “Better,” he says on a sharp inhale.
With Bo’s eyes held on me in concern, he does the unexpected. He brings my small hand away from my teeth and to his lips. Then he kisses each of my little fingers, one by one. No one has ever done that.
“The pirate?” “Aye,” I whimper softly. She gives me a this is not the time
Your childhood best friend? Oh, wait—that’s me.”
“See, you make fun of me, but this is why I take restocking so seriously.”
“Who the fuck is Bo? Caleb doesn’t have friends I don’t—oh my god,” she gasps again. “You slept with an intruder!”
“You’re going to have to tell Robbie. You know that, right?” “Stop calling him that.”
I also, quietly, think of Bo.
“Who the hell is—” “Robbie,” Sarah interrupts, bursting. “Robbie!” “Oh… shit,” Caleb says, grimacing.
“No! He’s just…Well, he’s—” “You wanted to introduce us, Caleb,” I say, my rage piquing within every syllable. “What do you mean oh shit?”
The way im LOL
“Why is he using so many identities?” Sarah asks what I’m wondering out loud, her voice barely audible. “Why did you tell me about a Robbie and not a Robert?”
Why i this so funnyy
“That’s my sister!” Caleb protests. “You know who she is,” Sarah fires back from behind gritted teeth.
about Robert, Robbie, and Bo.
I know I have zero claim over the guy, but I don’t particularly enjoy him having an enemies-to-lovers meet cute with the Antichrist.
No same
Ha. Pull-out. Should’ve maybe tried that.
ME: Hey Bo, this is Win. The other pirate from Halloween… I was wondering if you’d be free to grab coffee this weekend?
BO: Win, hey. You didn’t have to follow up your name. I remember you, obviously. And yeah, I’m up for grabbing coffee. Do you know Saints on Cosgrove Ave? Sunday at ten?
“I thought we could share these,” Bo says, setting the plate on the table between us. “And, uh, hi,” he chimes
Meet your dad, kid.
“So… do we—do we get married?”
he removes his hand from his face and moves to hold my hand instead, bringing my wrist to his mouth and pressing his lips to my pulse point.
“And I have an ultrasound booked for next Friday.” “Friday?” he asks, pulling out his phone. “What time?”
“Want me to pick you up?” “You… you’re coming?” I ask. “Obviously.”
