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“Iusedtobeastripper.” Ford blinks at me. His mouth slowly inches open. “Come again?” “I used to be a—” “Oh no, I got that. I mean, I think I’m about to come again.” He pulls a face and reaches down between his legs. “Fuck me, that’s hot.”
“I’m glad I came this morning.” And I can’t bring myself to respond to that with anything other than the truth. “Yeah, me too.” Ford’s smile turns wicked. “I didn’t realize you cared that much about my sex life.” Of course. “Should have known that’s what you meant.” “Uh-huh. And now I can check out your ass every time you bend over without getting boned up.” My head falls back on a laugh. “Still straight, Ford.” “Still gay, Orson.”
“How does he make you feel?” Thinking of Orson, picturing his face and the way my cheeks hurt whenever we’re together, makes my entire body prickle with awareness. “Alive.”
My competency kink is in full overdrive that my florist slash stripper can talk cars with Taylor and hold his own.
