Page 23 of Good Guy Gabe

I shake my head and kiss him back. “No, I want this.”

He guides his cock back into me and grabs my ass, setting a pace between us that has any thoughts of the future vanishing for the moment. One day, we’ll need to discuss this, but for now?

For now, I take what I want. I crush his shirt in my fingers and demand his kisses and long not for babies but for naked flesh against flesh. His sounds echo my motions, enthusiastically responding to what I do, making me feel truly appreciated, like the bridges he may have burned this evening were truly worth it for him.

Like whatever this is between us is worth it.

He comes suddenly, no warning except a tightening of his fingers, bruising my ass, no doubt. He tips his head back over the head rest and groans up at the roof, the sound of relief enough to quell any lingering doubts about whether we should have done this. And when he tips me back against the steering wheel to rub my clit until I come while his cock is still pulsing inside me?

I barely even notice the horn blaring outside until he finally relaxes and draws me back onto his chest to doze and the beeping finally stops.

It was the truck. I was sitting right on that horn.

Chapter 11

Gabe

IHAVE NOidea why I said that. I don’t even know if they’d give a single, childless man my age a vasectomy. My little sister Abby never stops complaining about how she’s had three kids and they still refuse to tie her tubes.

I wouldn’t want a vasectomy. I love kids. I’ve always thought I’d have two or three of them myself by now, with at least one more on the horizon before I called it a day.

I don’t know where there’s a condom in my car. There should be a couple in the glovebox and one in my gym bag behind the seat, but Blaise has a habit of nicking them. Another in my wallet, but I can’t attest to the date on it. Still, that doesn’t excuse lying to Joss about something so important, and now I need to admit that I lied and deal with the fallout from that.

Instead, I’m taking the slowest route possible home while Joss lounges next to me. Her seat is halfway reclined, her arm is thrown over her head, and her left leg is sprawled onto my side, her pussy bared and spread for me to continue to tease.

I push my cum back into her, guiding it as deep as I can.

Her sigh is one of dozy content, like she’s absolutely loving being filled with my fingers and my semen, and I can’t ruin the moment.

I’m an honest person to a fault. I suck at keeping secrets, and I just plain don’t like it. Every lie I’ve ever attempted to pull off, I’ve gotten caught for, and that sucks enough that I don’t doit. But every vision of my possible future with Joss is filled with a great big belly on her or a bassinet set up next to her sewing machine or a herd of blonde kiddos running circles around me in the yard. She didn’t like it when I told her I’d had a vasectomy, so I’m thinking she’s wants a family, too.

I need to figure out the right way to spin this so I can confess the truth — or something close enough — so that she won’t get mad. I can do this.

The little rumble from Joss as I begin to circle her clit with the pad of my thumb, absolutely loving the puddle on the seat beneath my knuckles, has me smiling. I can’t remember the last time a woman was so wanton with me. “I can’t believe it’s only eleven.”

The time triggers something in me. When I see the 10:56 on the clock, I realize the auction’s about to end. I take advantage of a red light at a deserted intersection to fish my phone out of the cupholder with my left hand to pull up the app.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Sure is, just putting the winning bid in on your quilt.”

Joss snaps straight up at that. “You don’t need to bid on that! I don’t care if it doesn’t go for much.”

The fact that she looks more terrified about that than the brawl we left behind at the hotel is enough to warm my heart back up. “I’m not doing it to stroke your ego. I want it. And you don’t have to worry about how much it’s going for.”

Whether I deliberately intended to goad her into grabbing my phone from me or not, the result is the same. She grabs it out of my hand and gasps when she sees the bid I’m about to place. “Oh my god, how do I cancel this? Where’s the cancel button?”

I laugh, enjoying seeing her so flustered and wondering if, in her panic, she ended up submitting the $50,000 bid. The current winning bid is just shy of 25, but I want to make sure I end this. “I’m good for it. I’m fine.” I was poor but comfortable for so long that when I finally got selected and lucked out with my seven-figure contract, I didn’t see any reason to change my life too much. And Merrick refuses to take rent money from us; he paid cash upfront for the house and insists he didn’t buy the monster to be a landlord. He figured it’d be useful since there were so many players moving to Wilmington at the same time, many of us without families or connections. The rest of us split utilities and any other expenses that pop up. Blaise and I went in together on the pool.

Joss has the cutest scowl, like an angry puppy. “I don’t care if you’re good for it, it’s too much money. I’ll make you one.”

I scoff, trying to push down any fluffy feelings about how casually she offered — not even offered, unquestionably stated — to make this for me. “You’ve already made one. How great would it be on the sidelines, a bunch of the guys huddled under it? The photo ops alone would get you media coverage. Way better than it hiding in the stands.”

She turns back, and though she still clutches my phone, she’s brought it up to her chest, looking positively angelic as she looks up at me and says, “No, I want to make one just for you.”

Okay, yeah. That’s fluffy feelings right there. “Don’t these take a long time?”

“I can have it done in a month.”

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