Page 6 of Frog Hog
Hutch groans. “Noted. Here’s the thing, though. Remember what I was telling you about time? And how it’s not like real time? I’m about to leave for a week and in a few months, I’ll be gone for six months. You have to grab the bull by the horns in relationships. There isn’t enough time to start off slow. That’s for accountants and mortuary attendants, not Navy SEALs.”
“I mean, you make valid points. I was just talking to my friend Greer about you.”
“Greer?” he asks and I can hear the confusion in his voice. It’s an uncommon name, and there’s only one Greer who is a household name.
I sigh. “Greer Sinclair is my best friend,” I admit. Laughing, I tell him the story. The same one I tell everyone about Greer’s and my friendship. I also tell him she wants to meet him.
“And she wants to meet me?” he asks, voice incredulous.
“To see if you’re right for me,” I add. “Not for any other fantasizing reasons, Hutch.”
He seems to realize his mortal, manly mistake. “She’s notmytype, but I can’t say I won’t be star struck. You realize she’s the screensaver on my best friend Baz’s phone, right? It’s just an odd twist of fate. That’s all.” If the image is one of the creepy screenshots of her leaked porn movie, I’ll never be able to like Baz.
Greer’s ex-boyfriend was a rising country singer with dimples, worn out boots, and abs that could slice a pussy open. He seemed like a nice, country boy. When he asked to film them fucking she never thought his kind, love-your-mamma manners would allow him to leak the damn movie to a porno conglomerate in Silicon Valley. Greer took him for all his worth in court, and now we hate him with a passion equal to that of the Devil’s fury.
“Well if you play your cards right I could get Baz a meeting. I’m not promising anything though. The last time I made her meet someone she was pissed at me for a week. He tried to lick her feet and asked if he could come on her pinky toe.” The thought makes me crinkle my nose.
Hutch laughs and tells me he can’t wait to tell Baz about the connection. “How about dinner at my house?” I offer, to get the conversation back on track. “I’ll cook something delicious while you watch me move around the kitchen—planning your attack?”
“I’ll bring over the wine and dessert.”
Raising my eyebrows, I say, “Your cock is dessert?” I find myself licking my lips. I’ve never had it so bad.
He chuckles softly. “No. Something sweeter. We can learn more about each other, though. I agree that’s a good idea.”
“Come baring answers.”
“All this talk ofcomingis making me hard,” he says, teasing with a low growl.
I groan away from the phone and blow out a frustrated breath. The tenor of his voice sets every nerve ending on edge. It’s a promise of testosterone induced thrills and exhilarating orgasms. “Me too,” I reply. “I mean, I’m not hard. Just wet.” Biting my lip, I open my fridge to see what I have and what I need to buy.
Hutch sighs. “I’m not saying I want to take it slow, but I don’t date just anyone and given your...past conquests, I’d like to make sure it’s going to work out before we bypass the heavy petting stage.”
The one thing I never thought of when I was bagging those hotties was this circumstance. The one happening right in front of me—almost prohibiting me from getting the one thing I desire the most. Would I have made different decisions if I could see the future? If I knew I’d want to settle down with a SEAL and try for something more meaningful? I don’t think so. It’s who I am. I’m assertive. I know what I want and far be it from anyone to judge me on previous conquests.
In the same token, I can see why he’s wary. “Do you think I have some black book filled with names of men I’ve slept with? That is way too much work, Hutch. I offered to cook. Anyways, I should be concerned with your motives. A man who wants to take it slow and get to know me first? A man like you? Is this real life?”
“Ah. It’s definitely real life. How to explain this? I know what I want. I see brothers die on a regular basis. I see the aftermath—the remnants of their families. The emphasis on life holds a different meaning for me. I don’t waste time,” he explains. His admission chills me to the bone and forces awareness to a fact I haven’t even considered yet. The volatility of his life. The chilling thought causes a full body shudder.
“I hope I’m not a waste of your time,” I deadpan.
Hutch clicks his tongue. “No self-deprecating. That doesn’t suit you. I’d rather not have an extra notch on my bedpost, that’s all. I’d like to give more to my future spouse. And in this case—less is in fact more.” Spouse. Future. Words that make my ears ring and my heart stutter.
There was this one time when I was having sex with this guy. He wasn’t a SEAL. I think he was a rock climbing instructor or something like that. He was lean and lithe—his muscles stretched out in a way that made him good at his job. He made me feel special. Expected me to spend the night at his house and asked me if I wanted to use his toothbrush. It was all too much, too soon, after having an orgasm. I considered spending the night, but I didn’t see a relationship with him. Was it because I wasn’t ready, or because I have too many hang-ups with my requirements?
When Hutch admits he wants to give things to his future spouse, I can’t help the pang of envious jealousy that slices deep. My palms sweat because I find myself considering, once again, not if I’m ready; but if I can unlock my heart and give away the key. This time all my requirements are met. The asshole can be expected, but the rest is unparalleled as if I had asked a man be made specifically for me.
“That’s charming. I can respect your decision to keep the key to your chastity belt locked even if I don’t agree with it.”
Hutch bellows. “I’m not barring you from my cock, in fact my cock is calling your name right now. I’m merely stating I expect to be in a committed relationship before my cock slides home. There’s a difference, you see?”
“I see you can work dirty talk into a plain conversation about boundaries. So, bonus points, dude. Mad, fucking bonus points.”
“Honest War,” Hutch says.
“What the hell is Honest War?”
“It’s when you have to answer truthfully and or speak the truth on your mind without remorse or regard for another’s feelings.” His tone is matter of fact.
