Page 112 of Sinclair Duet

“That’s not a deal. What do I get?”

“My cock whenever and wherever you want it.”

She hummed and tapped her finger on her chin, pretending to think over my offer.

“Oh, one more thing,” I said as I leaned down to give her a kiss. Just as quick, I reached for her elbow and spun her away. My hand landed with a loud slap to her ass.

“Ow,” she squealed as she jumped away.

“Now I get to watch that sexy ass with my handprint in bright red.”

Her eyes sparkled as she backed away from me. “You used your right hand. Did it hurt?”

“Like a motherfucker.”

“Good.” She turned back around, swaying her behind and giving me the view I wanted.

Gabriella

Iwasn’t sure how Damien did it, but he did. At three o’clock on a Sunday afternoon, sitting on the sofa in our hotel suite and staring into the camera atop Damien’s laptop, we met with a Hillsborough county clerk. As if our middle-of-the-night ceremony wasn’t obscure enough, we were meeting with the county official via Zoom.

It seemed that even the county clerk would make exceptions to rules. Our license was postdated to last Friday. I had no doubt that his wallet was a bit thicker for his flexibility.

By the clerk’s image, he was seated in front of a green screen that looked like a quintessential courtroom. In reality, I would guess he was at his pool or in his lanai on a Sunday afternoon. There were probably swim trunks below the shirt and tie.

After uploading our Indiana driver’s licenses, paying the nominal fee, and answering a few questions, the license was issued.

“Thank you again for your time,” Damien said. His dark-blond mane was no longer messy. His toned abs and muscularshoulders, as well as his earlier erection, were now covered, hidden beneath a layer of clothing. Dark blue jeans covered his long legs and a white button-down shirt with rolled sleeves finished his attire.

We’d secured a first-aid kit from the hotel. Damien’s hand was coated with antibacterial ointment and was wrapped in white bandages.

“Your license should arrive to your email in a matter of minutes. Remember to have the officiant sign. Once that signed license is returned to our office, you will receive your completed license via mail.”

“We appreciate your help,” I added as a knock came to our hotel door.

Damien squeezed my knee. “That should be Pastor Abrams now.”

As Damien said goodbye to the clerk, I went to the door.

“Mrs. Sinclair,” Pastor Abrams said with a smile.

“Getting closer to making that legal by the minute.” I gestured into the suite. “Please come in.”

Damien stood and greeted Pastor Abrams. “Thank you for coming on a Sunday afternoon.”

“You were able to get the license…I didn’t want to be the cause of a delay.” She tilted her head. “How is your father?”

“He’s a fighter.”

The pastor looked at Damien’s bandaged hand and to me. “Like father, like son.”

A grin lifted my cheeks. “When a Sinclair wants something done, it most usually happens.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Damien said. “I need to go to the business center to have the license printed. I’ll be right back.”

After brushing my cheek with a kiss, Damien disappeared into the hotel hallway.

“May I get you something?” I asked. “A water bottle? I’m afraid we don’t have much of a selection.”

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