Page 21 of Sour Brew Face

“Proceed.” I say haughtily, and drop my head back to the pillow, relaxing my tense muscles so he can resume his morning duties.

“Well, now that you’re awake…” He trails off, his body prowling up mine with a naughty glint in his eye and a lopsided smirk. He’s fucking hot in the morning, how is that fair? He slides into my body like a hot knife through butter and I give myself over to the pleasure. I can’t resist teasing him for long though.

“So, it’s ok to toss my salad while I’m sleeping, but not bun the hot dog?” His movements stop and he drops all of his weight on me. The breath in punched from my lungs and I flail beneath him.

“I love you, Mary Opal. God, how I love you.” My arms and legs fall to the bed as I process his declaration. It hits me square in the chest, my heart hammering to break through and connect with his.

“Are you sure? Langston, those are some pretty big words to be throwing around so early.” He shakes his head as he leans up on his elbows, taking enough weight off so I can take a full breath, his cock still lodged firmly all up in my business.

“Not early, Mo. It’s just the right speed for us. You take my breath away.” Soft eyes gaze upon me and the depth of his emotions are written all over his face.

“You do too. Especially when you smother me with your manliness.” I tease but wiggle an arm free to run my fingers across his brow and down his stubbled cheek. “I love you too, Langston. Please, please don’t hurt me.”

He swivels his hips, pressing his pubic bone against my clit, drawing out a long, low moan from me. I lift my legs and grab my toes to hold them up and wide, opening myself up to him completely. He groans, taking what I’m offering and giving me so much in return.

This isn’t sex, it isn’t fucking, its making love. Its possessive and branding and transcendent. It’s a slow build, torturous as it is delectable. By the time he’s howling my name and emptying himself inside me, we’re clinging to one another with sweat slickened skin and I’m biting into his shoulder while I drown in ecstasy.

Hot damn, that’s a hell of a way to wake up.

We lay, catching our breath, our hands and legs touching. The events of last night come back to me and I don’t know if I should say anything to him. He was clearly distraught after his dinner with his mom.

“Langston?” I turn to on my side and he does the same, a sated and lazy grin tipping his lips. “I’m not going to ask what happened last night,” he stiffens, his lips dropping into a pursed line, “I just want you to know I’m here if and when you find the words.” He stares at me for long seconds in silence, his slate eyes brightening as time ticks by.

“Thank you, Mary Opal.” He finally says and I exhale slowly in relief. “I’m not ready to talk about it, but when I am, it helps knowing you are there for me.”

“Absolutely.” I say seriously, then shuffle closer to him and kiss his lips softly. “My pelvis really enjoyed spending time with your pelvis. Do you think we should set up another playdate?” He laughs husky and rough, drawing me into his arms and kissing the top of my head.

“I’d go so far as to say they should play exclusively with each other.”

“Exclusive pelvic playdates? Are they ready for that level of commitment? They’re so young.” He hushes me with another kiss, then drags me out of bed and into the shower.

If this how our mornings are going to continue, I’m going to have to set an earlier alarm.

Mo 18.

“I know, I know, I’m late.” I say to the guys as I pass through the break room to put my lunch in the fridge.

“But you look well satisfied, so we’ll let it pass.” Paul teases and I give him the finger.

“Anything going on today?” I ask the room, even though there wasn’t anything on the calendar.

“We wanted to talk to you about an idea we had.” Joe says seriously. I snap my head up from the interior of the fridge and scan the solemn faces of my guys. My stomach flutters in nervous anticipation.

“Uh…”

“Drink this.” Seth shoves a beer glass in my face, his eyes flitting around the room unable to meet mine.

“So, I trust you guys, but I’m not in the habit of just drinking out of a glass that someone hands me without knowing what’s in it.”

“It’s MoMo.” Ishaan says helpfully. Helpful like a screen door on a submarine.

I point to myself. “I’m MoMo.”

“MoMo.” He points to the glass in my hand, and I look at the other guys for help. Our friend might have hit his head recently.

“Do you know what year it is?” I ask concerned for his welfare. The others start laughing while Ishaan rolls his dark eyes.

“In honor of our lady-guy-friend—”

---