Page 84 of The Mayor and the Mystery Man

“I’m coming,” he said. I think. The toothbrush made it tough to decipher.

“We’re going to be late.”

Dusty spit and washed out his mouth. He flung the toothbrush into the extra holder in my bathroom—our bathroom now—then sidestepped me into the bedroom. He spun on his heel.

“I would’ve gotten a better night's sleep for this race had someone not poked me awake in the middle of the night.” He stared his accusatory eyes right into me.

And I winked back. Guilty as charged.

I pushed him back onto the bed, the same bed where I’d spooned him to sleep, and apparently humped him awake. I dragged a greedy hand over his chest, my lips hovering above his pert mouth.

“If you keep looking at me that way without a shirt on, we may go into round two and miss the race altogether.”

Dusty pulled me to his mouth for a hot kiss. “They’re zombies. They can wait.”

“How did I ever sleep before without you by my side?”

He quirked an eyebrow in consideration. “Lots of pillows?”

“Dusty, Dusty, Dusty.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just like saying your name. While you’re under me. Undressed.”

He tried to wriggle from my grip. I pulled down his pajama pants and smacked him on his savory, bubbly ass, which was enough to get me officially revved up. I pressed my tongue between his cheeks.

“Shit,” he gasped out, wiggling still, but this time to push his ass closer to my mouth.

I opened him up, his pink hole driving me crazy. I flicked my tongue over his opening. My dick hardened in my shorts.

“We’re going to be late.” His body clenched and quivered with suppressed moans. “Your kids are downstairs eating breakfast.”

“I’m having my breakfast, too.” I swirled my tongue around his hole, slipping in and out, his heat sending bolts of lust through my veins. I’d wanted Dusty for fucking decades, and now I had him. I was making up for lost time.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he whispered, his breath husky.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

I pulled down my shorts to my thighs, enough to unleash my leaking steel rod of a dick desperate to plow inside him. I slid a finger inside Dusty while, with my other hand, I reached for the lube in the nightstand.

“Dad, where’s the orange juice?” Ari called from downstairs.

“It’s in the fridge!” I yelled back as loud as I could, roughly switching to dad mode. “All the way in the back!”

I coated my cock and Dusty’s ass. I was already dangerously close to exploding. If I had my way, I’d fuck him so hard he’d have no choice but to scream out his pleasure. But quiet, sneaky fucking also had its charms.

Dusty’s ass jutted up like a cannon. He wanted it so bad. Rather than a hard slap, I kissed both cheeks.

“I don’t see it!” Ari yelled back.

“It’s there!” Fucking kids.

“Oh,” he called a few seconds later. “Found it!”

I leaned over Dusty and licked down his neck. “That was close.”

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