Page 17 of Razor
Lucien turned and walked back into Inferno without another word. The MC president was one of the few people who kept Razor off-balance. Just when Razor was sure he had him figured out, Lucien confused him. That was one reason Razor had joined the Devil Daddies. Someday he’d understand the mystery Lucien presented.
Razor’s stomach growled, and he pressed a hand to it. He had a choice: go to work and grab a couple of protein bars, or head home, eat, and straighten his house to prepare for having a guest. Smiling at the thought of having his Little girl at home, Razor headed for the loaner bike.
After scrambling some eggs for dinner, Razor stood at the stove, eating them from the pan like a dedicated bachelor. His mother would whack him with her favorite spatula if she caught him doing that. She would also love Honey. He didn’t have any doubts about that.
Spunky and courageous, Honey had set off Razor’s take-a-second-look radar immediately. That didn’t happen often and usually for the wrong reason instead of a positive one.
Razor scooped up the last bite. What was Honey doing? Definitely not eating out of the pan. That was a bachelor thing.
Did she have a stuffie? He was confident she did. An image of the adorable woman curled up in bed with a stuffed animal pinned to her chest popped into his brain. He glanced at the empty couch in his family room, hopeful for the first time in a long while.
Checking the clock on the microwave, he quickly washed the skillet and tossed his other dishes into the dishwasher. Razor wanted to get a good night’s sleep before seeing Honey. He headed down the hall, turning off the lights behind him before he walked through his bedroom and into the large bathroom.
Razor loved the huge walk-in shower he’d had installed. He flipped on the water to warm and stripped off his clothing. Stepping onto the slate tile floor, he positioned himself directly under the spray. The cascade of liquid felt good as it pelted his skin. He stood there for a couple of minutes enjoying the heat before backing out to dispense bodywash into his hand.
Operating on autopilot, Razor rubbed the slick mixture over his chest and arms, working it into a lather before rinsing it off. He washed his hair and beard next, scrubbing at the bristly whiskers, letting the water flow over his face. His beard oil added a whiskey and spice scent to the warm air as he spread that over his facial hair to soften it. Razor definitely didn’t wish to redden Honey’s skin when he kissed her.
His cock thickened and lengthened as he imagined pressing his lips to hers. Her parents had chosen the perfect name for the sweet woman. Razor grabbed some soap and stroked a slick handful over his shaft. He groaned at the sensation and repeated the action as he imagined peeling off Honey’s clothing to caress her curves. Razor moved his hand faster, his balls tightening closer to his body. His pleasure built fast and strong as he pictured her in his mind.
His shout rang out against the hard tiles of the shower. The pleasure was fleeting as he anticipated how incredible making love to Honey would be. Stepping back under the water, he finished his shower. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.
Chapter 6
Honey slept in on Saturday morning. She’d gotten up twice to use the restroom during the night, so she welcomed getting a few more minutes to rest. Lounging in bed was a heavenly indulgence.
“Maybe I should stay here all day, Beatrice,” Honey told the plush insect in her arms. Beatrice didn’t answer her, but the bee’s cute antennae waved happily in the air.
When her stomach growled a few minutes later, Honey reconsidered. “Beatrice, we’ll starve if we keep being lazy. Let’s get up and go raid the kitchen. After trashcan nachos Thursday night, I think we can cheat a bit on the diet the doctor gave me. I’ll eat twigs and berries next week.”
Beatrice looked like she wanted to tell her something, so Honey held her stuffed queen bee up to her ear and listened carefully. When the stuffie had finished, Honey admitted, “I don’t know if he’ll call. He said he would.”
A few minutes later, she agreed, “You’re right, Beatrice. I’ll be on pins and needles waiting for him to phone. We need to go about our day. If he contacts me, hooray! If not….”
She let her voice fade away as she pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the bed. Setting Beatrice next to her, Honey stood to test her balance. To her delight, she felt more like her old self than she had for weeks. Honey hurried to the restroom to wash her face and pee. When she returned, Beatrice seemed impressed by how easily she walked.
“It’s going to be a good day, Beatrice. I should do something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. Something I don’t normally have energy for.”
Honey perched on the bed and hugged her stuffie to her chest as she considered all the possibilities. She loved going to the park, but it was still too hot. The heat caused her a ton of problems. But air-conditioning wouldn’t.
“I could try shopping, Beatrice. I haven’t done that in a long time. I need to run to the grocery store, but I could have them deliver. Let’s not waste energy on that. There’s that pottery place I’ve wanted to check out forever. Do you remember, Beatrice? You go and paint a ceramic object, and they fire it for you. That would be fun.”
Bouncing on the bed in excitement, Honey celebrated finding the thing she’d enjoy most. She crossed her fingers and hoped they’d have a spot for her. Honey leaned over to pick up her phone and froze. A message from Razor had popped up.
* * *
Honey, my apologies for having to reschedule yesterday. I know this is last moment, but what’s your schedule like today? Can I convince you to spend some time with me?
* * *
Hi, Razor. I’d love to see you. Where should I meet you?
* * *
Let’s do something you’ve wanted to do for a while.
* * *
Honey checked in with Beatrice to check what her stuffie thought. Razor wouldn’t like painting pottery, would he? It would be more fun than doing it on her own if he wouldn’t be a total grouch the whole session. Honey scrunched up her nose and shook her head. Razor wouldn’t go and be miserable. He didn’t seem the type to agree to anything he didn’t want to do.
