Page 73 of Her Paramedic
“Sure, if that helps you sleep at night.”
Slate hummed. “You know what really helps me sleep at night? Your tight little pussy wrapped around my dick.”
“Stop it right now,” Talia demanded, and Slate chuckled. “I don’t get to see you for a week. Do not rile me up when I’m so close to ovulating.”
“I don’t have to be with you to make you cum, baby.”
“How’s the car coming? Are you almost finished with it?” she changed the subject, and he smiled in amusement but allowed it.
“I’m waiting for a part to come in. It took me forever to find it.”
“I can imagine. I suspect original parts for something that old are scarce.”
“They are, but it’ll be worth it once it’s finished.”
Slate knew that exclusively original parts meant he could charge more for it when he resold it. He could name his price, but he was sure this one would go much like the last one he took to a car show. There had been a bidding war for it, and he’d made a pretty penny.
“Do you know what you want to work on next?”
“I don’t. I think after this one, I’ll wait a little while before shopping around for another one.”
Typically, he restored three cars a year if he could get the parts in on time. He only had room to work on one at a time since he did it in his garage. Sure, he could rent a space and work on multiple cars, but he enjoyed the serenity of doing it at home. It reminded him of when he was young and had first gotten into restoring. His parents had turned their shed into a workspace for him. Slate enjoyed working at home even more recently since his girlfriend seemed to enjoy watching him do so, and he always got to reward himself for the hard work between her thighs.
He spoke to Talia for another hour before she told him she’d text him when she returned home from dinner with the ladies.
Slate finished folding his laundry and put it away as he thought of gifts to get his dad for Father’s Day. The holiday was two weeks away, and he wanted to make sure whatever he bought would arrive on time. He’d just returned to his living room when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen before answering it.
“Hey, Kil.”
“Hey. What are you up to?”
“Nothing,” Slate responded, propping his feet on the coffee table.
“A little bird told me you almost choked Brent out last weekend.”
Slate chuckled. “Let me guess. Our moms have been gossiping.”
“They have. It seems she was unsure whether to be upset or proud about it, and wanted a second opinion. What happened?”
Slate gave him a rundown, and Killian scoffed as he finished. “I’ve been telling people for years that he’s slow because what made him think they didn’t use kiwis to make kiwi-flavored vodka?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Slate responded.
“You want to jump him next time we see him?”
Slate laughed, and his cousin joined in. “Nah, he’d call us pussies. We can tag team him, though.”
“Deal,” Killian replied. They wouldn’t. It would be like picking on a child, but the thought amused them. “When are you and Talia going on your trip?”
“The last weekend of the month. We’ll be gone from Friday to Monday. Why? What’s up?”
“I wanted to know if you’d earned enough vacation time to help me move.”
“So you did it,” Slate said. “You decided to retire.”
“I did.”
“I probably don’t, but if I let Carie know now and she isn’t covering for anyone, I can get her to take those shifts or switch with another unit if I’m not off during those days. When are you trying to move?”
