I like you fucking me.
twenty
. . .
i like you fucking me .
But I swear to god, if you guys embarrass me, he’s never coming back. Got it?
Mom
We love Miller
And I take offense to that. How could we be embarrassing?
Art
We won’t tell him he’s your first boyfriend in over a year
And we won’t show him the side of the house with the messed up stucco from your head when you crashed your bike ten years ago.
And we definitely won’t mention the time you peed your pants playing Lazer Tag
Art, don’t play with me
Mom
You can’t see, but I smacked him one good. Don’t worry, we will be on our best behavior
But you know that we know Miller, right dear?
I know, mom. I’m just saying… all the times you met him before were as a dude I work with. Now he’s my boyfriend
Mom
Must have been some sleepover
Glad I took you to get on the pill when you were eighteen
Mom! Art is in the group chat!
Mom
Oh, he knows. How do you think Mara got here?
Mom joke!
Art
Good one, sweetie
Okay, no more parental fornication jokes or mentioning of said act. Just promise me everyone will be cool, okay?
We’re right around the corner.
Turning to Miller, I find his eyes flitting between the road and me. He grins, and I feel it in my panties. If this is how being with Miller is, I’m legitimately scared for our friends and my family.
I reach over and drape my hand over his thigh, loving how his hard leg feels beneath my touch. “I can’t keep my hands off you,” I say, loving how he pats the middle seat between us. I unclip and slide over, my hand gaining surface area to explore.
“Ah,” he croaks, “maybe try to keep ‘em off, just for a little bit? Maybe just sit there and stare forward. Because if you rub my leg or touch me anywhere else, I won’t be able to go inside.”
I stick out my lip in a pout. “Fine.”
“You sure your folks don’t mind if I drive to karate today?”
I roll my eyes. “I was there last night. It will be us two today. Next week Art will be there, and mom too. It’s a family affair, so don’t feel like our going is taking something away from them. Mara has karate shit to do all the time. There will be plenty more.”
We park in front of my house, and I return to my side of the cab and reach for the door handle when Miller stops me.
“Hey, Laney, real quick.”
I let my hand fall away from the handle. “Yeah?”
His cheeks are ruddy with cold, and his big frame seems to swallow his half of the cab, and my heart pounds at the realization that Miller is my boyfriend. This sweet man with the big heart and even bigger dick and orange cat is my boyfriend.
And he loves me.
“You date that guy, Rock?”
I edge toward him on the bench seat, waffling our fingers together as I respond.
“I went out with him a couple of times. He tried to get me to put out, and well, I didn’t.
We broke up. That was that.” I wave my hand through the air between us, trying to give the situation some levity.
“We weren’t a couple so I don’t want to say we broke up like, broke up .
I just mean… he didn’t like hearing no, but no was my favorite word for him so…
we stopped meeting up.” I swallow, feeling the back of my neck grow clammy with this conversation.
He has to know, and I’m glad he’s learning now to get it out of the way.
I just really, really don’t like wasting time and energy on Rock.
“Do I have your permission to come to karate with you when it’s just you?” He brings my knuckles to his lips and kisses along them, making warmth blossom between my legs. “Please, Laney, please give me permission to be there with you. I don’t want you there alone, but I won’t insist on anything.”
I blink up at him, surprised by this man I know so well. “I love that you’re asking and not just insisting on being there.”
He takes my chin and brings my cheek to his lips, kissing me softly. “You’re a smart woman. I will never insinuate that I know better because I’m a man. But as the man that loves you, it would make me happy to know you were never down there alone. Not again, at least.”
Easily, I nod. “Okay. I’ll never be down there alone again.”
“Really?” he presses his lips along my knuckles again, drenching me in happy kisses.
“Thank you. ”
We seal our agreement with a slow kiss.
Then we make our way inside my house, where mom and Art welcome Miller with a hug and a handshake, respectively.
Mom serves us coffee and pastries, Art shows Miller the work he and I did together on his car two months ago, and after what feels like not enough time laughing and talking, Mara appears in her gi, ready to go.
On the drive, Miller and Mara talk about music and movies, which is funny to me because neither of them knows a great deal about either. But I get lost in their familiar voices, how easily they get along, and just how good I feel having these two parts of my heart collide.
Once there, Mara meets up with her class on the mat, leaving Miller and me to find a seat on the small set of portable bleachers nearby. I can’t stop staring at our linked hands, and in fact, I believe I miss most of the Kumite comp practice because of how fixated I am on them.
When Miller catches me in my haze, he grins, bringing me to life from head to toe.
“I love the way your hand looks around mine.”
He beams. “I can’t believe you like me back.”
At that comment, we both enjoy a full-bellied laugh. We laugh so hard that I blot at the corners of my eyes where tears collect, and he pulls his cap down over his face as he belts out a few deep laughs. And then our watery eyes come together as we each catch our breath.
“So corny,” I breathe. “And I don’t just like you back.” I scoot close to him and bring my lips to his ear. “I love you back.”
Pulling away, he shoots me a sinister stare. “Technically, I love you back since you said it first.”
“Hmm,” I muse against his lips. “I guess that’s true.
” I slide my hand up the back of his coat and flannel against his bare skin.
With my nails drawing a sensitive line down his back, I tell him exactly what I want.
“How about when we get back to your place, you prove how you love me back by being a good boy for a few hours.” I dance my brows at him as he pulls back.
If he had a tail, it would be wagging with excitement right about now.
“I’ll be your good boy,” he breathes, curling his fingers around my thigh, making wetness gush from my cunt. “Any damn time.”
I don’t think I’ve ever rushed Mara out of comp practice as fast as I did this morning. Sweet admissions of love turned promises of something sinister, and by the time I’d dropped Mara, grabbed my bag, and hopped into Miller’s truck, my panties couldn’t hold an extra drop.
Even though I’d told him he could wait outside, while I was inside grabbing some… things … Miller came inside and talked to mom and Art. When I emerged, I found them sharing Oreos over glasses of milk while he helped flip their puzzle pieces.
Art looked genuinely bummed to see him go, and it was at that point I decided I’d see if Miller wanted to come over somewhat regularly, not just to get close to my family but for Art, too.
Having been no contact with his own father since he was eighteen-years-old, I’d hoped that the suggestion wouldn’t upset him or cause him to reflect back on his life.
When I mentioned it to him, however, he swooped up my hand with his, kissed my knuckles (the way I’m learning he loves to do), and told me that it would “be an honor.”
Now back at Miller’s, he’s brewing coffee and feeding Salsa, and I’m staring down at the duffel at my feet, beyond ready to make him my good boy.
“Remember a couple of weeks ago when I asked you what I could have?” I ask, dragging my fingertip down the spines of books lining his shelves. Books I will one day analyze because they belong to him, but for now, they’re inconsequential.
In fact, with how I’m feeling right now, just about everything seems inconsequential. Everything but him.
He arches a brow as he pinches the filter, lifting it from the top of the carafe. “You mean like–” he stops mid-sentence as he stops me, my eyes wide and hungry like a wolf in wait. But I can’t help it. I want my good boy.
“Oh, yeah,” he wipes his fingertips along the dish towel before looping his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. I love the way his words scatter into my hair as he asks, “did you want me to give you something specific right now?”
His fingers roam and knead down my spine, making my nipples so hard they could pop a balloon.
“Tell me, Laney, what did you want from me tonight?” He puts a breath of space between us, just enough to bend down and nuzzle into my neck, dragging his lips against my throat.
“Tell me what to give, and it’s yours,” he says, lightly kissing a trail down my neck, along my collarbone.
“Get the bag.” I nudge it with my foot. “And let’s go to your room.”
My heart races the few steps down the hall, and when Salsa winds through my ankles, I barely pay him any attention as I bend to give him behind-the-ear scratches. All I can think about is this–what I have planned.
He said he likes it when I’m in control. There are so many things I’ve wanted to explore with the right partner, and with Miller, it feels like everything is on the table .
He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, and for a moment, the overwhelming smell of his cologne and bedsheets have me almost tossing the bag aside, jumping on him, and letting him fuck me like crazy.
Like normal.
Right?
But maybe we aren’t normal. Or maybe our normal looks different.
Because all I’ve been thinking about for the last few hours is having my good boy on all fours, making him moan and cum and writhe and sweat.
All I can imagine is feeling his cum flood my palm as I take his ass and give him the deepest, most intense pleasure he’s never known even existed.