“Are you seriously not dating? Or are you just tired of all of us giving you a hard time?”
He shakes his head and doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, pretending like driving the familiar road requires all of his attention. “I needed a break,” he finally answers as we near the office.
“All because of that loser who tried to kiss Daniel?” I ask skeptically. Ollie’s dated plenty of assholes over the years; it’s hard to believe one handsy dude was all it took to make him throw in the towel.
“Nah, fuck that guy,” he says, but doesn’t give any further explanation. I take the hint, letting the topic go for now. “I hope your date goes well,” he says once we park.
“Thanks. Have a good night.”
I can’t get home fast enough. Every stoplight along my way is a device of pure torture.
As soon as I’m in the door, I head straight for the master bathroom, stripping my clothes off along the way and tossing them into the hamper as I pass it.
I start the shower and while I wait for the water to heat up, I grab a fresh razor and consider how difficult it would be to attempt a quick shave just to thin out my ass hair a little. It’s hard to tell how much hair I even have back there, honestly. Is it an excessive amount? An idea occurs to me. I leave the shower running and go into my bedroom to grab my phone, which I had tossed onto the bed when I passed it a minute ago. I pull up the camera app and lean over. Holding the phone behind me, I attempt to get a picture. The flash goes off, and I check to see if I got the picture.
Nope, just my ass cheek. I try again, spreading my legs farther apart and leaning over even more. The second picture is just as bad as the first.
“Dammit,” I mutter, finally climbing onto the bed so I can really get a good spread going.
The third picture is a success, a nice shot of my asshole filling the screen of my phone. I tilt my head as I study it. I wouldn’t have expected it, but it’s surprisingly hot to be looking at a picture of my own hole. And yes, there’s hair, but it doesn’t seem all that excessive. And if it was that difficult to get a picture, I can’t imagine it’ll be all that easy to shave either, so it’ll have to do for now. I can ask Watson his opinion on the issue tonight, and if he’s anti-ass hair, I can make an appointment to get waxed.
With that out of the way, I finally hop into the shower. I take extra care to make sure every nook and cranny is squeaky clean, daydreaming about how tonight might go, and studiously avoiding my growing erection.
Once I’m finished, I dry off and get dressed. I resist the urge to put on my trusty baseball cap, instead opting to look a little nicer tonight. I run a comb through my hair and grab a pair of nice jeans. Since it’s getting cold out, I put on a long sleeve shirt and do a quick once over in the mirror before heading out to pick up Watson.
Watson
“What do you think?” I ask Fermata, holding up a pink bowtie and a blue bowtie for him to choose from. He sniffs the blue one, and I nod. “Good call. Blue it is.”
I put it on, keeping an eye on my phone, half expecting Ev to call last minute and tell me something came up. It’s not unprecedented for a date to cancel on me minutes before he’s due to show up. Not that Ev is like any of those dicks, but the nerves are hard to shake.
I’ve spent most of the week trying to convince myself not to take his comment about falling for me too seriously. It was right after an orgasm, nothing anyone says after an orgasm counts.
I’m going to enjoy this for as long as it lasts and do my best not to expect too much. And when things go south, I’ll dust myself off and be happy with the memories. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
There’s a knock at the door, and I grin. “That must be my gentleman caller,” I say to Fermata. “No wild parties while I’m gone.”
He snuffles around his cage, not paying me any mind. That’s what’s great about hedgehogs, there’s no pressure to impress them, because they will never be impressed.
I pull open the door to find Ev standing on the other side looking ridiculously handsome in a tight, long sleeved shirt and a nice pair of jeans. His shirt is tight enough that I’m able to catch the barest tease of the outline of his nipple piercings. Unlike our last date, it doesn’t look like he’s shaved, a decent amount of stubble covering his face without crossing over into the definition of beard.
“Fuck, you look good,” I mutter, devouring him shamelessly with my eyes.
“So do you,” he agrees, his voice low and heated as he reaches for the front of my shirt and drags me closer, crashing his mouth into mine. His mouth tastes like toothpaste, and his beard scratches deliciously against my skin as he slips his tongue past my lips. He makes a sexy, rumbly sound that vibrates around my tongue and wakes my cock up instantly. “I can’t get over how it feels to kiss you,” he groans, breaking the kiss and going back in immediately like he can’t help himself.
He wraps his arms around me, and I loop mine around his neck, dragging my fingers through the hair on the back of his head and meeting his tongue with mine. I grind my hardening cock against his, and he makes another desperate, needy sound inside my mouth.
Ev slides his hands down to my ass as he trails kisses along my jaw and down my throat. He licks and nips at my skin, kneading my ass and murmuring words that my brain is too scrambled to process.
“Normally I’d be all for skipping the date and getting right to the sex, but there’s this whole thing about not giving away milk for free, I can’t remember exactly when you’re biting my neee…ugh, fuck.” He sucks on my pulse point and then bites me gently, scattering the few thoughts I’d managed to scrape together. “Come inside,” I suggest instead, not particularly wanting to have sex with him half in the hallway.
He groans, pulling away and licking his lips, still puffy and wet from the kiss. “No, I promised you a date,” he says, not sounding all that committed to the idea. His eyes are shining with a combination of lust and uncertainty.
If this was anyone else, I might drag them inside and say fuck the date, but this is Ev. I bite down on my lip, cursing myself for what I’m about to say. “Sex can wait. But let’s go now before I change my mind about that.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, taking a deep breath and running his fingers through his hair. Normally when he does that move, he shoves a hat back over his messy locks, but this time they remain standing up in all directions and it’s kind of hot. I can’t wait to mess him up properly later.
I grab my keys, and we step out into the hallway. I do my best to catch my breath and convince my cock to stand down while I lock my door.
“Sorry about that,” he says. “I didn’t mean to maul you the second you opened the door. But I can’t lie, I’ve been thinking about it for the past eight days.”
“Me too.”
When we reach his car, parked right out front, he opens the passenger door for me, and I grin at him.
“Such a gentleman,” I tease.
“Some gentleman, you brought me flowers, and I completely forgot to do the same. I realized when I was halfway here and then I couldn’t decide which would be worse, showing up empty handed or being late to pick you up,” he confesses.