Page 29 of Good Guy Gabe

“I’m fine,” Joss protests, pouting as I toss her shot glass into the sink.

“Ma’am, I will throw you over my shoulder and spank your ass if you don’t walk it down to my bedroom immediately.”

Joss’s cheeks flush at the threat, but her pupils dilate and her lips part, as well. She’s already told me she likes when I call herma’am, but now I’m intrigued about what else she likes. She pretends to drag her feet like she thinks I’m being ridiculous and has no intention of fucking tonight, but as soon as she starts walking, it’s a race.

I don’t think a lot about my bedroom. It’s a room to sleep in. There’s a TV, but I hardly ever use it when there’s a wall-sized screen and theater seating down the hall. My walls are mostly undecorated aside from a goal tracking calendar that’s three months behind. I never got proper curtains, just the blinds that were already installed. My California King doesn’t have a headboard. The simple blanket covering it is threadbare and in desperate need of retirement. There’s a laundry chute in my bathroom so there aren’t any dirty clothes, but a stack of folded tee-shirts sits on my chair. Too many pairs of sneakers prevent my closet doors from fully closing. I don’t even know why I keep buying them.

There’s a treadmill I got because even in the weight room here, Blaise is a dick about my pace, but the jacket I wore last weekend still hangs from it.

It’s not much different from my bedroom in college; Joss was married and probably dates men who have corporate jobs and thought-out condos. This is embarrassing.

I’m about to apologize when Joss silences me with a single flourish of movement that has her jersey vanishing. I was worried about her being timid without the adrenaline from high emotions running through us like they did last week, but she stands proudly before me in a bra with a cute blueberry printon it that’s cut low enough that it shows ample flesh. Her frilly, colorful skirt goes next, and beneath it is matching panties in that cut that sits low on the hips but covers enough that she could almost get away with wearing them in the gym if she was feeling particularly brazen.

The set isn’t sexy, not in the classic Victoria Secrets barely-there lace style, but she’s cute as fuck in it. Immediately, my cock stirs. Any concerns about the room or those two shots of vodka vanish as quickly as the vodka did.

“Did you know my favorite fruit is blueberries?”

I step up to her. Considering the fact that Joss is the one who undressed, I’m more than a little surprised that she places her palm on my chest to hold me back. It’s not a caress; it’s a push. An adorably weak, dainty push, but she’s keeping me away. She’s also touching me and leaving space between us for me to admire the jiggle of her boobs, the gentle curves of her hips, the soft pooch of her tummy, so I’m not complaining. Her hand is nice and warm, and I can’t wait to be all over her.

She more effectively stops me with her words than her hand. “Nope, your turn.”

I furrow my brow.My turn. For my turn, I choose to wrap one hand around her leg to lift her thigh and widen her stance.

She sidesteps me, but seriously, it’s only my manners that keep me from grabbing her anyway. She is tiny. My reach is vast. “No, no, no. This.” She gestures to my clothes. “You’ve seen me naked. Now it’s your turn.”

Because she’s being sassy, I have no qualms sassing right back. “Technically, I’ve never seen you completely naked.”

“You have seen every single part of me.”

“And I’m sure I’ve seen every single second ofFrozen, but I’ve never seen it from front to back, and honestly, I couldn’t tell you what the plot is.”

Her jaw drops, fully affronted. Before I can stop her, she launches herself over my bed, belly-flopping across it to grab my TV remote. “Well then, we have to watch it! Right now!”

I know she’s joking. She better be joking. But she rolls onto her side and actually turns the TV on, and seeing her there? Propped up on one elbow, her legs crooked just right into a casually seductive pose, all long lines and cheeky lingerie?

No fucking way we’re watching Disney princess shit right now. Ilivedthat my entire childhood.

I’m not gentle, but I’m careful not to be too rough with her when I grab her by the ankles and slide her on her belly toward the edge of the bed. I smack her ass firmly enough the sound echoes through my room.

She shrieks and flips over, again propping herself up on her elbows. The soft of her stomach gathers a little, in a way I’m sure she’d think terribly unflattering, but it’s sweet and makes me think of how much better she’d look with even more.

Like, if there wasn’t any folding there because there’s a baby taking up all the space.

I spent the week obsessing about this.

And it turns out that sometimes vasectomies fail. It’s not like I would know if it did until it was too late.

Joss bites her lip playfully and lifts her foot to rub it up and down my thigh, hugging along the bulge of my throbbing cock.

I groan and rip my tee-shirt off without any more hesitation. But I have to pause there, give her time to accept who I am. Iknow she won’t reject me; I would never be plotting what I’m plotting if I was concerned she would run off because I don’t have the physique most of my friends do.

But I don’t. My friends get panties thrown at them. I get cookies. Women don’t like me because I’m sexy, they like me because I’m friendly and safe and food-motivated.

So I give Joss a moment to see what she’s getting from me, see my soft bits and the chest I don’t get professionally waxed because I’m not Merrick and my utter lack of visible abs because I don’t dehydrate myself before photoshoots like Blaise does. I’ve got a weird scar from falling off my bike when I was seven and my chest is just as freckled as my face is, and I’m just big ole me.

Joss does take me in. She’s not subtle about it. She studies me with heavily lashed eyes that glitter like sapphires. Her lips part, and my nerves are soothed by the way her tongue daintily swipes over her bottom lip.

She uses her toes to tug my pants down an inch, but I finish the job. Her grin is enough to prove she’s plenty satisfied with the rest of me.

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