The Only One (Wrench Kings ,#3)

by Daisy Jane

I pull my cap back down, straightening my spine, preparing to shake off all that good boy praise from a minute ago. Getting excited by a beautiful woman talking to a dog is a new low.

I picture Miller’s messy strawberry-blonde hair beneath his hat and the way his cheeks turned pink when I called him on his lack of confidence. It’s so annoying when a man is adorable and doesn’t even know it.

I know there’s a difference between being alone and lonely, but I’m both.

Little does she know; there’s very little I’d refuse her. Murder, that’s probably the only thing. And even then, her reasoning would have to be very far off for me to say no. I guess it’s a good thing for me that Delane has no mortal enemies.

I just like that someone is thinking of how I was treated. And cares to stake claim to my well-being.

“Tonight,” I rush out, wasting no time. “You can come over tonight.” She laughs and shakes her head. “Can’t. Mara has karate. Couple days?” I nod. “Literally any day. All day. Every day.”

Low in my belly, spreading through my pussy, down my thighs–warmth from the idea of being back in Miller’s apartment tonight, his sweet grin staring back at me, his cock locked because I said so.

And now that this stick figure with bolt-on tits and inhumanly long lashes is here,

Ofc she's blonde too. Why do we keep having these characters? It feels so women against women.

And I’m sure whoever he ends up with will never let him go.” “Why can’t that be you?” she asks, reaching across the table to snag the apple Art set out for her. She shoves it in her bag, which she pulls up from the back of the chair into her lap. My phone saves the day, rattling loudly against the table as my alarm sounds. “We gotta go.”

Yeah, why can't it be you? I really don't get why she doesn't think so

Smiling, I turn to look up at Miller, who… Jesus, looks more handsome than I remember. Boyishly adorable yet ruggedly handsome, like I want to buy him a sweater that coordinates with mine and get a professional photo taken, then get on my knees and suck the cum out of him.

I nod. “Good boy.” He shivers a little. “Fuck. I liked that name.” I repeat it. “Good boy?” He nods. “I’d fucking love to be your good boy.”

“I’m your good boy,” he whispers, his voice hoarse and unguarded.

“You lied, or at the very least you deceived me. You never told me you were a virgin, too.” I take a moment to remember her wide dark eyes and the feel of her naked skin beneath my hand. “I trusted you. But you didn’t trust me.”

You know your heart is really broken when you let greasy Atti wipe your tears with his sweat rag. But yep, that’s where I’m at.

“See, this is why we started this in the first place. The fact that you can’t believe I’d love you.”

Kettle meet pot

I take a breath as I climb the stairs to my place, trying to put on a “hi, thanks for the help” expression as opposed to the “this plug is rubbing my prostate and my briefs are full of precum” look I’m currently wearing instead.

“I just want to be your good boy.”

I love my wife. I love what we have. She’s my best friend and my queen. I’m her best friend and her very good boy.