Driving to work in a trance, my brain is so hung up on this girl. She's fucking beautiful, too fucking beautiful. She caught me staring at her tits, but I couldn't help it, they were about to fall out of her shirt.
My mind starts to go wild again, wondering how thick her nipples are, if she'll shiver as my teeth graze and nibble her tender skin. Does she like it rough or gentle? Does she have a wild side that only comes out in the bedroom?
I can try to find out. Give her a night she'll remember.
I'll run my tongue all over her body. Starting at her throat, I'll slowly move down, licking between her tits until I hit her belly. Teasing the shit out of her could be fun. Her body will tremble the closer I get. My warm tongue will taste her skin all the way down her thighs until I hit her sweet pussy.
I'm fucking hard just thinking about it. Shifting in the seat, I adjust my dick so it doesn't get bit by my zipper. Darting my eyes to the clock, I realize I'm late. Really late.
Fuck.
Forcing the girl out of my head, I hit the gas hard, weaving between cars to get to work. Whipping the car around the corner and into the dirt parking lot, the sand kicks up hard, spraying outward. It pings off the other trucks like bells, and I'm sure my boss won't be happy about it.
Climbing out of my car, Grey is standing in the doorway, his hands on his hips, and an angry scowl on his face. He's not even trying to hide how pissed he is, not that he's ever really been afraid to tell me exactly how he feels.
“You're fucking late,” he barks across the yard. “And don't drive like an asshole. If you fuck up the trucks, it's coming out of your pay.”
“Yeah, so fucking sue me.”
“Don't fucking start, Ian, I'm not in the mood today.”
My boss. . . who's also my brother. It's a lovely combo.
People say you should never work with family, and they're right for the most part. My brother and I have had our issues. Luckily, he knows I do a good job. I'm the best guy here.
And we trust each other, there's nothing more important than that.
“What's wrong now? Did Angela put you in the doghouse? Is she not fucking you anymore?”
Angela has been Grey's friend with benefits for years, but she likes to hold out on him if he's been a dick. Which, he does have a history of. He's a repeat offender.
“Fuck off, Ian.” He turns and heads inside the trailer that we use as the office for our construction company. “We needed to finish this remodel two weeks ago. Mr. Houston isn't happy.”
The trailer stairs creak as I climb them. The structure is old. We got it at an auction a few years back and turned it into our office. The floors are just plywood, and the walls are covered in that fake paneling shit that was really popular in the eighties.
We should have renovated it a long time ago, we just never got around to it. I can smell the old lady who used to own it, her perfume must have permeated the walls. It reeks of heavy flowers and moth balls.
“So, it's my fault then? Is that what you're saying?” Curling my lip, I glare at him.
Grey walks behind his desk and lifts up the plans for the addition we're adding to this house. “These. . .” Giving them a hard shake, he slams them back down. “Should have been done already. Maybe, just maybe, if you were on time once in a while instead of showing up whenever the hell you feel like it, we'd be on track. This isn't a fucking game, Ian, this is the real world. You can't live by your own rules and expect everyone else to follow.”
“Are you really lecturing me right now?” Angling my head, I furrow my brows. “You can't blame me for this. You're the one who didn't order the correct footage of flooring, or the right sheet rock.”
He shakes his head, giving me the same shit eating smirk he's done since we were kids. “You've always been good at pointing fingers, but never good at owning up to your own bullshit.”
Folding my lips down, my jaw jets out. I'm not going to give him what he wants. I'm not going to fight him so he can throw shit in my face. Grabbing my gear, I turn to face him. “Are you done? Can I go to work now, oh great lord of wisdom?”
“Fuck off, dude. You know what, just get the fuck out. Go.” He drops into his seat, keeping his head down and picking up the phone to make a call.