Page 24 of Heat Wave
“One of those, too.”
He starts laughing, and I give him a big smile before leaning against him and tilting my head back. If he goes in for a kiss, I’m going to kiss his lips off! I’m going to….
Chapter Seventeen
Waylon
Her eyes close as she puckers her lips up, and then her little body goes lax in my arms. I stuff her into the car and pull her dress down over her cute black panties that leave very little to the imagination. I fix her belt before shutting her door and walking to my side.
Son of a bitch, Oakley drunk is the cutest fucking thing in the world. One day, I’m going to have to take her out and let her really go all out. Safely. With me right beside her. Wrapped around her tight.
I glance over and my eyes drop to her lap, having seen what lies beneath. I shake my head. I shouldn’t be thinking of her in nothing but a pair of black see-through panties, but damned if it just can’t get it out of my head.
“I smell.”
My eyes go over to her, where she is trying to pull the top of her dress away from her body.
“I should have shot that little shit.”
She giggles for several seconds before flopping back in her seat and going quiet again. She’s back out of it.
Once we’re home, I carefully take her in my arms and open our door. She comes to just as I am punching the security code in.
“Waylon.”
“Hmm.”
“Take me to bed.”
Well, fuck!
“You tired, baby.”
She giggles, “No.”
I sit her down in the living room. There is no way in hell I am walking into that bedroom with her like this. She laughs all the way into the bedroom.
I double-check the locks and then make my way over to the couch, but before I can sit down, Oakley is calling out my name.
“Waylon. Can you come help me?”
She doesn’t sound like she’s teasing me or that she is up to something. I walk into the room and nearly stroke out. She’s standing in nothing but that pair of black lacey underwear. Her breasts are where my eyes go first. The soft, round globes crested with cherry tips that make my mouth water are bared, and I can’t look hard enough. Her waist tapers then widens at the hips. Every part of her looks soft and round and ready.
Her black panties are so transparent that I can see her red curls shaped in a neat little landing strip that just begs me to come explore.
“Can you help me wash this off. It reeks, and I can’t sleep smelling like this.”
“You…,” my voice barely comes out, and when it does it’s gruff like I’ve not drunk anything all day, “you want me to help you take a shower?”
She nods and slips her fingertips under the sides of those panties. “Please.”
“I don’t…”
“I don’t think…you go first.”
We both start, but neither of us finishes.
“No, you go first.”
