Page 90 of Cocky Origins: May and Jerald Cocker

We’ve been having sex for hours now.

I pull out without using my hands on account of I’m holding her face to ask, “You okay?”

“Little sore.”

“Let’s stop.”

“Is that alright?”

“That’s always alright, May. This is for both of us to feel good.”

“I know but I just…is ‘came’ the proper way to say it?”

“That’s right.”

“I just came, and you haven’t.”

“But I did before, remember?”

Her eyes are big, uncertain. “Doesn’t it have to be even? Sable always says everything needs to be balanced.”

“And it is, by both of us enjoying ourselves. I can’t enjoy myself if you’re in pain.” I kiss her and she yields to me, relaxing completely.

We snuggle and doze off until awakened by another knock. Neither hesitates in jumping to our feet this time. We near ‘bout hit the ceiling.

“Who is it?”

“Walter!”

“Are you alone?”

“I am.”

Hopping into my pants I wave May out of sight. She wraps the blanket around her, and runs to hide behind the door. The bed is in plain view and her looking all sexy like that is for my eyes only, nobody else’s.

Opening the door about a foot-wide, I greet him with, “Are they here?”

“They are, and they asked for your room number. I said I’d have to look it up, and suggested they might make themselves comfortable, that I’d send you on up to them. The long journey made that seem the better option.”

My lungs lighten their load. “Thank you.”

“Just had to put myself in your shoes.” He stares at me with the unsaid in his eyes. He’s imagining if it had been him and Patty, what he would’ve wanted someone to do for them. “But I’d hurry up if I were you.”

He heads off and I shut the door, now face-to-face with May. She touches my bare chest. “Why don’t you just wear this?”

I grab her finger, pull her closer. “I will if you stay in that blanket. You can wear my belt.”

This image sends her into a fit of giggles as she hurries to the clothes I carefully removed earlier and hung up to avoid wrinkles and hide how we’ve spent our afternoon.

When she turns to me and asks, “How do I look?”

Fixing my last button, I smirk, “Might need a hairbrush for those knots we made.”

Her hand flies up. “Oh!”

“I don’t think the courthouse is open this late,” I chuckle. “And I want to live through the night.”

50

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