Page 175 of Finance Bros

I have two margaritas, refuse to sing, and while I love most of the people here, the one I love the very most just keeps getting sexier, making me increasingly horny and ready to wrap this party up.

He’s a vicious tease in his open-collared white button downand ass-hugging slacks. Every time he catches me looking at him he’ll do something like brush his thumb across his mouth or unbutton a button. At one point, he reaches into his half-open shirt and rubs his fucking nipple.

With the party in full swing, and no one even close to moving toward the door, I remember I have a bedroom with a door that locks and a beanbag chair that would look amazing with a half-naked Malcolm on his hands and knees.

Knowing he’ll follow me because he is, in fact, clingy as fuck, I excuse myself from my conversation with Charlie and go into my room.

By the time Mal comes in, I’ve got the lube and a flesh light on the beanbag and a dick so hard, I had to open my pants.

“For the record,” he says, “You barely beat me back here. You look so fucking hot when you’re mingling.”

“Shut the fuck up and get over here.”

He glances at the beanbag. “Is that for me?”

“Hope you don’t mind getting fucked to karaoke.”

He untucks his shirt and finishes unbuttoning it. “Always been a fantasy of mine.”

“I missed you today,” I tell him.

“You say that every day.”

That’s probably true, but today I actually mean something more by it. “Do you think if we both did the show full-time we’d get a book offer or something?” I ask.

He stops with his shirt halfway down his arms. “Are you proposing…a partnership?”

I grin at him. “Something like that.”

His brows lift. “Then I have a proposal foryou. Bailey told me she knows of someone in her complex who’s moving out next month. She said she could get us an early look.”

“Whoa—what?”

He shrugs and removes his shirt. “We can talk about it later.”

Malcolm knows exactly how much I like Bailey’s apartment complex, and while Deacon’s great, and I know he and Malcolm are becoming friends, the idea of having a place of our own—aperfectplace… Okay, now I really need inside him. He’s gotten really good over the last few weeks at speaking my love language.

Now he’s not getting naked fast enough. I walk over to him and get started on his pants, tugging him in the direction of the beanbag at the same time.

He unbuttons my shirt as we move. When we make it the short distance, I kiss him and slide my hands down the back of his slacks. “Holy—” I pull my mouth away from his and meet his eyes, unable to keep from squeezing the silky fabric I just discovered encasing his ass.

“What’s happening here?” I ask.

“See for yourself,” he says, all slut and shining eyes.

I push his pants down to reveal the satin undies he’s sporting. They’re black with lace insets on the hips. They also have a slit in front that his erection has made its way through, and my brain melts down. “Man panties?” I say.

“They feel amazing on my skin,” he says, voice low and sexy.

“They’re obscene.”

“Mmhm.”

“Is there…?” My fingers slide through another open seam in the back and my dick throbs hard. “Where the fuck did you find these?”

“The Castro,” he says.

“You fucking slut.” Those are the only words I manage before I’m all over him, kissing him and fondling his hole and grinding my cock against his.

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