His penis that was rather large.
His underwear were doing a piss poor job at containing the thick length of his erection.
“It’s the morning,” he said.
I swallowed hard.
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “It is.”
“My cock is always hard in the morning,” he said in his thick, deep drawl.
I felt things inside of me tighten.
Mostly my vagina.
“Yeah,” I said again.
I wasn’t able to coherently form words at this point. His cock was that big and nice.
Jesus Christ.
“Why are you still staring at it?” he wondered.
I swallowed hard and said, “Because I can’t help it.”
He reached for my pillow and put it over his lap.
I nearly whimpered at losing the sight of that magnificent beast.
And, not wanting to let on that I was feeling things that I probably shouldn’t be feeling, I crawled back into the bed beside him and stole the pillow back.
But I closed my eyes and rolled over until my back was to him so that I wouldn’t stare at his penis anymore.
The move left my backside exposed, which was about the time that I went to reach for the covers.
“No,” he laughed as he pulled them farther away from me. “Fair’s fair and all. You stared at my dick. I can stare at your ass.”
That was true.
Fair was fair.
But I could feel that part of my panties were stuck up in my ass crack, and I couldn’t risk reaching backward to pull them out because I didn’t want to draw attention to it.
So instead, I tugged my t-shirt down, hoping that it covered enough that he wouldn’t be able to see.
But also, I was kind of worried that I was getting wet, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself and let him see how much I wanted him.
He groaned and stood up.
I looked at him over my shoulder and sure enough, his penis was still very hard, and his ass was nice and perky.
Two very mouthwatering combinations.
“You need to get up anyway,” he said as he walked to the bathroom. “We have to leave in an hour.”
I yawned. “It’ll take me twenty minutes to get ready.”
He scoffed. “I’ve never met a woman that could get ready in that small of an amount of time.”
He closed the bathroom door on that comment, so I thought to prove him wrong by getting up and getting ready to go.
In fact, I was so dressed and ready to go that by the time he arrived into the kitchen with a confused scowl on his face, I had breakfast ready and coffee in hand.
“That’s my Pop-Tart,” he said.
“There’re more,” I said. “In fact, I saw like eight boxes in the pantry.”
“But that’s the last cinnamon one,” he said.
I paused with the Pop-Tart halfway to my mouth and then handed it to him without another word.
He took it with a scowl.
A scowl that lasted on his face only long enough for him to get his first sip of coffee.
He handed the Pop-Tart back to me with a single bite taken out of it.
“I like them all,” he said. “But today is cinnamon day. Tomorrow is chocolate.”
My mouth twitched. “You only eat certain flavors on certain days?”
He nodded.
“Monday is strawberry. Tuesday is cinnamon. Wednesday is chocolate. Thursday is blueberry. Friday is cookies and cream. Saturday, if I don’t eat out for breakfast, is mystery day. Sunday, I make bacon and eggs,” he answered.
“What’s mystery day?” I questioned.
He pulled a box of unopened Pop-Tarts out of the pantry and pointed at them.
“Mystery day is the day that I choose one of the ones out of the package,” he answered. “Since they don’t label what they are, it’s a mystery.”
“How do they get out of the package?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Sometimes the box breaks. Sometimes my mom brings over a shit ton. My dad just opens all the packages and dumps them all into a big box. My mom cleans them out every time she comes for a visit because it drives her crazy.”
My mouth twitched.
“That’s actually kind of funny,” I admitted.
“Yeah,” he shrugged. “He’s weird.”
“And mystery day isn’t weird?” I questioned.
He shrugged, then said, “I’m going to visit my parents this weekend. You’ll come.”
I opened my mouth to deny that when he said, “This isn’t an option. I don’t want you here by yourself for a while.”
I sighed.
I most certainly didn’t want to go to work with him.
But…money was money. And even if I wasn’t living in my apartment right now, that didn’t mean that I didn’t have to pay for said apartment.
“They’ll pay me to be there?” I confirmed.
Justice’s eyes cut to me.
“They’ll pay you,” he promised.
I sighed and went to the pantry to grab a mystery Pop-Tart.
All the while, I wondered if this was the right decision—being here with this man.
It was either stay with Justice or leave. And I didn’t have anywhere to go yet.
I didn’t have much savings, either.