Page 61 of Hale Yes
When I hear her breathing even out, I turn back onto my side to face the wall and drift off into my own dreamland.
Nicolette is holding my penis.
I repeat: Nicolette. Is. Holding. My. Penis.
She seems to be asleep and completely unaware that she has her hand on my cock, but my awareness is at the highest level. Thankfully she’s gripping me over my pants, so there’s at least a bit of fabric between us.
A ray of sunlight peeks through the dark curtains, casting a yellow sliver of light against the wall in front of me. My internal clock tells me it’s probably six or seven in the morning. Nicolette will be waking up soon too, and I know this predicament will embarrass her. So I gently wrap my fingers around her wrist and attempt to extricate myself.
That only makes her grip me tighter, and I suppress a groan. This has officially progressed to a DICK-CON one situation.
I almost startle when a soft voice mumbles, “One corn dog, please.”
Did she… just…
Her hand strokes up and down my length as she continues to mutter. “I love corn dogs.”
Yes, yes she did.
“Is this a foot long, sir?”
Not quite, baby, but you’re not far off the mark.
I realize that instead of stopping her, I’m now guiding her hand as she slowly jacks me off, my hips arching forward for more.
Dear god, what the hell is wrong with me?
Inching my other hand down, I manage to pry her fingers from my shaft without waking her, though she emits a huffy protest and rolls over onto her other side. A hefty sigh of relief pushes from my lips, and I perform a quite impressive sort of gymnastic move, launching myself over Nicolette and onto the narrow space between the bed and the dresser.
Grabbing my shirt, I slip it over my head and tug the hem down, doing my best to cover the very obvious tent in my pants. Looks like it’s time for another cold shower.
And then I might take Nicolette out for some corn dogs.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Kinky recognizes kinky
Nicolette
For some reason, I woke up this morning craving corn dogs. It was the weirdest thing because it’s not something I eat all the time. In fact, I haven’t had one since the state fair last fall.
Brushing that aside, I get dressed and go downstairs, finding Helix and my dad cooking breakfast. “Hey, guys,” I say, and they both turn to greet me.
“Morning, babe,” Helix says, and I get a fluttering low in my belly at the endearment. So I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. I didn’t plan to; it just felt like the natural thing to do. He doesn’t seem to mind, and dips one eyelid in a wink. Cue more flutters, though these are a bit farther south.
“What are you two up to today?” Pop asks, beating the eggs in a cobalt-blue glass bowl.
Helix flips a piece of bacon in the pan. There’s something so hot about a domesticated man. “I thought maybe you’d like to go to the airport and see the Falcon this morning.”
Pop’s hand pauses and his entire face brightens like Helix just announced we were taking an impromptu trip to the moon where we’d be invited to an all-you-can-eat jambalaya buffet. “Are you for real?”
My boyfriend—fakeboyfriend—laughs. “Totally for real.”
I jump in to help with breakfast, putting biscuits on a pan when Rory enters through the kitchen door. “Morning, everyone.”
We all greet him, and then Pop is back to talking excitedly about the morning’s plans. “Helix is taking me to see his plane, Rory.”
“For real? Can I come?”
