Page 74 of Hot Doggin'
“Fuck. Yeah,” Mac agrees, sounding all breathy and turned on. He grabs his cock from me and takes over, jacking it furiously, grunting as he takes the pounding.
I thrust harder, bottoming out against his ass cheeks. “Say it.”
“It’s your dick.”
Pulling out all the way, I thrust in again, slamming my hips against his ass. “Again. Say it.”
“It’s your dick!”
“Damn right, it is.” The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the kitchen, punctuated by his grunts.
Every time I slam against him, he yells out, “This is your dick!”
“It’s my ass, too,” I growl, bottoming out one last time. My load pulses inside his ass, filling him up.
“My dick belongs to you, Stiles. It’s your dick. Your ass.”
He sounds desperate, chasing his release as he pumps his shaft, slamming his ass back against my dick. Mac is fucking me, and I look down at where our bodies are joined, enjoying the show. It looks hot as fuck.
“That’s it. Fuck me, Mac. Work my load deep into your ass.”
He yells my name and sprays the cabinets with milky-white seed. I collapse against his back, chuckling and sweaty. “You’re cleaning that up.”
The front door opens with a bang against the wall. The freshly-fucking-painted wall. “Knock, knock, Bitches!”
Fuck! I recognize those voices.
Mac tenses, his entire body going stiff. “You didn’t lock the door?”
“Why the fuck would I lock the door?”
He grabs his boxers from down around his ankles and hobbles to the bedroom, slamming the door hard behind him. I grab my pants and pull them up.
“In here,” I call out.
Six heads pop around the wall. They’re each holding up grocery bags, wearing identical smiles. “Who’s in the mood for a housewarming party?”
Fucking Bitches. They have the worst timing.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
STILES
“Hey, homeowner,”West grins. “Give us a tour of the house.”
One by one, they drop their bags on the kitchen counter and spread out, sort of giving themselves a tour. I trail behind the group with a running commentary.
“We just painted, so keep your hands off the walls. That’s the hall bathroom if anyone needs to use it.”
They duck their heads into McCormick’s office, and the extra bedroom, which is being used for storage right now. Mac walks out of our bedroom, now fully dressed, and shuts the door behind him. But Rhett opens it and pops his head in.
”What’s with you two sharing a bed? I guess it made sense when you shared a one-bedroom apartment, but you have three rooms now, and two aren’t being used.”
“What I want to know,” Brandt adds, “is what’s with the SesameStreet picture on the wall in the living room?”
Fucking nosy Bitches. “It’s an inside joke.”
