Page 1 of Under The Twilight Rainfall
There’snothingIlovemore than a man with a big dick who knows how to use it. And Zeke sure as shit knows how to hit that spot inside that has me damn near floating off the mattress.
Like, holy motherfuck, get it in there and pound the shit out of me, why don’t you?
When he wraps his hand around my cock and tilts his hips just right? That’s it. I’m gone. Spraying thick white streaks all over my bedsheet—and I don’t even give a shit. I fall right down into the mess. Gotta shower anyway, so fuck it.
“That was insanely fucking good,” I say as Zeke’s weight blankets mine while he catches his breath. “What deity did you have to bribe for a dick like that?”
“It ain’t the dick, Dexy boy.” He laughs, giving my hair a tug, and pushes to his feet. “It’s just God-given talent.”
“Mhm.” I watch as he traverses my apartment butt-ass naked. Those thick, dark thighs have my dick uselessly twitching. Even if I wanted to go again, he drained the life right out of me. Or at least my jizz. “Why haven’t I locked you down yet?”
Zeke rolls his eyes and slaps my ass on his way past me to the bathroom with his collected clothes.
“Because I want a house husband who’ll greet me from his knees at the end of the day, not a sassy little manwhore with commitment issues.”
We both laugh as the door shuts. He isn’t wrong. My job requires me to keep constantly on the move, but even if it didn’t, I’d find an excuse to make a run for it.
I like sex. Love it even. But all the emotional baggage that comes with settling down?
I don’t want to worry what my boyfriend will think of the photoshoot I have planned in Thailand two months from now. I don’t want a slew of angry, antsy text messages because I’ve been too busy shooting or editing to check my phone.
I want this. Casual, hard, intense fucks with people who have no desire to become romantically attached.
Zeke is probably the closest thing I’ve got to a friend, and I gotta say, these benefits are rock-my-world amazing.
Why would I give this up?
Speaking of upcoming shoots, I need to check on a couple of flights, which means—I lean over and tap the screen of my phone to check the time—fuck yeah! Spinny’s on call.
I do my little victory ass shake as I pull up the most used number on my phone: Love Abroad Travel Agency. Also known in my contacts as Spinny Headquarters.
“Thank you for calling Love Abroad Travel Agency. Fall in love with the beauty of the world one destination at a time. What joy can I bring you today?”
Spinny has one of those voices that could lull you to sleep reading an infomercial. And not because it’s boring, but because it’s just that fucking soothing. I mean, okay, he also sounds bored as fuck and like he’d rather be anywhere than on the phone with you, but listen, he’s been my go-to travel agent for long enough that it doesn’t bother me.
“Eyyo, Spinny! It’s Dex. How are my flights and accommodations coming along?”
There’s a sigh that doesn’t sound the least bit troubled, and I smile wide before he even speaks.
“Dexter Ashford. You gave me your travel plans a week ago with ten stops, two weeks between destinations, and you think I’ve gotten everything booked already?”
This is where I know I tick a few of his nerves. I should have mentioned the trip to him a few months ago when I booked this gig, but I’ve been busy with my current projects and my bouncy little brain kept telling me I knew exactly where I could fit this one in. Didn’t even consider how dear Spin would find a way to accommodate it.
Sometimes I wish my brain functioned a little more rationally, but then I remember my masterpiece of a portfolio and I crumple up that thought into the nearest trash bin.
It’s inconvenient for the people around me, but it’s a necessity in who I am as a person.
“Your accommodations are all set, Mr. Ashford,” he says with a breathy, amused laugh.
I smile in that ‘what-are-you-gonna-do’ way, though he can’t see it, but Zeke does as he steps out of the bathroom and whacks his towel on my ass.
“Are you giving that poor man trouble again? Sorry about him, Mr. Travel Agent. Dex is a first-class disaster”—he lowers his voice and gets right in my ear—“in a sexy, fuckable package.”
Zeke gets distracted leaving love bites all over my neck, which in turn distracts me from whatever Spinny is trying to tell me. I only snap out of it when he clears his throat, clearly aggravated, and I shoo Zeke away so I can focus.
“Repeat that. Sorry. I was distracted.”
“So I heard.”
