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As Stone once said, “A cock in the hand is worth two in the ass.” I’m not sure what he meant or if it even applies here, but it makes me laugh, so we’ll go with that.
“This is ridiculous. Look at you all fucking twenty-six and ripped as fuck. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure I found a gray pube last week.”
West stops in his tracks and drops to his hands and knees. His jeans stretch over the mouthwatering swell of his ass, and my brain immediately conjures up the image of him in the same position in nothing but a pair of white lace panties and a matching set of garters. My cock swells at the thought. “There’s hardwood,” he says. No kidding, I think, palming my erection. West grabs the edge of the carpet and rips it back effortlessly, exposing wood underneath. Oh, right, that kind of hardwood.
“Hey, can I borrow some butter?” I arch an eyebrow at him. “No. I’ve heard what you two do with butter.” He cackles. “Dude, I’m making cookies.”
“West?” He crosses the kitchen and puts a hand on my shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I think Sawyer seems like a great guy, and I hope it works out. But when it’s right, like really right, you won’t have to be anyone but you. The right person will love every stupid, obnoxious thing about you.”
