I stood and stretched. “Ummm… depends on how long you think I’ve been sitting there,” I hedged.
Hansen’s hungry eyes roved over my denim cut-offs and white tee that read, ‘I’m not short, I’m a hobbit.’ His mouth turned into a grin and he shook his head, tagging my waist so my body collided with his.
“How many of those things do you have?” he murmured against my mouth.
“I haven’t got an exact number, but it’s in double digits,” I informed him.
He chuckled slightly.
“Never thought I’d find that geek shit as hot as I do, babe. But somehow it manages to get my cock hard as stone,” he said, his whiskers tickling my cheek.
I smiled at him. “Well sir, we may just have to do something about that,” I informed him in a throaty voice.
I kissed him what I intended to be lightly, but instead he clutched the back of my head and beautifully claimed my mouth. I almost forgot my mission once he’d released me, but the hard on pressing against my stomach reminded me. I winked my slightly dreamy eye, moving down his body, lovingly running my hands along his leather vest.
When I knelt to the floor and released him from his jeans, I licked my lips, moving forward to taste the pre-cum at the head of his cock.
He hissed and his hands went to lightly cradle my head. I took him fully into my mouth, loving the whispered curse of pleasure he emitted. I worked him lovingly, running my hands along his shaft as I sucked, moving slow but deep.
“Macy,” he grunted, his voice rough with desire.
I kept going.
“Macy,” he repeated. “Gonna cum, babe. You don’t want me to fill up that sweet mouth, you stop now,” he ordered.
I inwardly grinned, arousal building up in my stomach as I worked him harder and warm liquid shot into my mouth as Hansen’s hands tightened on my head.
“Fuck,” he half shouted.
I slowly licked him clean, and then his arms went under my armpits to lift me.
“Jesus, baby,” he murmured, lifting me.
I grinned at him.
He started us toward his bedroom. “Gonna eat you till you scream, Macy. Then I’ll fuck you till you forget your own name,” he growled, throwing me on the bed.
And for the next two hours, he kept his promise.
It was Saturday. For some, Saturday signaled the start of a blissful, relaxing weekend. For me, it was the opposite. Even though I’d pulled up to the house of dread plastered to Hansen’s back, I couldn’t escape the swirling in my stomach knowing I’d have to spend an hour with her.
“Don’t like you going in there, babe. Don’t like that your eyes don’t get their light back until at least a couple of hours after you leave her,” Hansen said after I’d reluctantly peeled myself off his bike.
I smiled at him. “You’re just going to have to make sure you get creative in finding ways to make my eyes bright again,” I winked, trying to keep my cheery façade strong. Maybe if I acted it, I’d feel it.
His eyes turned dark. “You fuckin’ bet I will, babe,” he responded in a husky voice.
My stomach dropped at the erotic promise. I smacked his shoulder. “You can’t get me all aroused before I go into the real life version of Night of the Living Dead,” I scolded him.
He smirked. “Way I see it, the only way you’ll get through that is if you’re thinking of my dick. Pick you up in an hour?”
I shook my head, feeling turned on despite myself. “I’m having coffee with a friend after. So pick me up from that fancy coffee place on Wilson Street in two hours, if that’s okay? Otherwise, I can get a cab,” I added.
Hansen’s face hardened. “You’re not getting a cab. I’ll be there. Now give me your mouth,” he instructed.
I bent down, as he was still sitting on his bike. He tagged the back of my neck and laid one on me, hot and heavy, in the middle of the parking lot.
Once he’d released me, I stood back with a dreamy look on my face.
“That’s a promise of what’s to come,” he murmured.
“That will definitely get me through The Night of the Living Dead,” I said dreamily.
His eyes softened. “Love you, babe.”
My stomach dropped like it did every time he said that. “Love you, too,” I half whispered.
He gave me one more look then took off, leaving me standing there watching his bike drive away. I took a deep breath and faced the building.
I survived the visit, with only minor internal damage from the sharp points of Grandma’s words. It helped I had some complicated and delicious coffee smothered in cream afterward. I was also distracted by seemingly insignificant problems when Robert opened up to me over said coffee. My heart had broken for him, yet he stayed reasonably strong until we walked outside onto the street, saying our goodbyes.
“I’m so sorry, Bob,” I told him sincerely. Since we’d become friends, I took to calling Robert, Bob. Mostly because no one called him that, and he smirked every time I did it. He was so not a Bob.
He squeezed me before letting me go. “Thanks, Macy,” he said, his eyes watering slightly.
Bob had told me his mother was completely gone, even the fleeting glimpses he used to get off her were snatched from the cruel disease holding her mind hostage.
“Call me if you want to talk?” I said, worried about the fact he didn’t seem to have any friends he spoke of, any other family to talk to. He was a nice guy, he deserved someone.
He gave me a sad smile. “Will do, Mace. This would’ve been a lot harder had I not had you to help me through.” He kissed me on the head lightly then turned to the parking lot.
I stood watching him for a second, then turned back to the street, about to get my phone to call Hansen. I didn’t expect to see him sitting on his bike, directly across the street. He did not look happy.