Page 60 of Filthy Sweet

Robin smiles kindly. “On the plus side, I feel like you’ve become less of a worrier since you started seeing Fox.”

“I’m too busy satisfying all my secret desires. No time for worrying.”

“It’s good for you.” Robin grins. “It’s good to see you thriving.”

I shrug, smiling happily. “I never would have guessed that thriving meant choking on a cock, but you’re right. I think I am thriving.”

Before I leave Robin’s, I send a quick text to Fox to let him know I’m on the way. We fly to LA tomorrow, and I’m staying at his place tonight so we can leave for the airport in the morning. I slept over there Wednesday night, too, after he got back from a quick trip to visit Phoenix Sunset on tour. Fox took me out for tacos after work, and then we stayed up way too late with that deepthroating lesson.

When I first spent time with Fox, he was such a mystery, an endlessly complicated equation I thought I would never solve. I let myself be intimidated by him. He still surprises me, but I understand him now, too. He acts cocky, but it’s just because he’s trying to protect himself. At his core, Fox is gentle and kind, and when we’re alone, I see his softness, more every day.

He plays me his favorite albums, and we talk about nature and tease each other and laugh. It’s easy, and the lines blur, so we’re hanging out one minute, and I’m down on my knees again the next, gripping his hips and sucking his crown.

I’m clueless about relationships. I have no idea how they’re supposed to feel or how two people should act around each other. I didn’t think my first relationship was going to start with a hookup at a sex party or that dirty talk would pepper every conversation. But I do know this feels right. And when I walk the street to Fox’s condo, luggage in my hand, I want to run to him.

I reach his floor and find his door left ajar. “Hey cutie,” Fox calls from upstairs. “I’ll be right down.”

The condo is immaculate, but there’s a pile of paperwork on the big glass coffee table. When Fox heads down the stairs, I see he’s dressed in disheveled work clothes, his black shirt unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up messily.

“Hi,” I say, then meet him at the bottom of the stairs for a kiss. His stubble has grown out, and it feels a little scratchier than usual. “Everything okay?”

Fox steps back and smiles. “Yeah. Why?”

“You look tired.”

He laughs. “Thanks.”

I laugh, too. “Calm down. You still look better than anyone else in this city.”

Fox grins. “Thanks,” he says again, sincerely this time. “I’ve just been working my ass off. That’s all. Getting ready for the trip.” He nods toward the couches, tastefully arranged with a few plush chairs in the middle of the sprawling room. “Take a seat. I didn’t have time to cook, but I ordered a platter from the Mediterranean place. You said you liked that, right?”

“Definitely. You have to let me order for you sometime, though.”

Fox shrugs as he plops down on the leather couch. “I make too much. Wouldn’t be right.”

I sit down across from him, then kick my legs up into his lap, our usual position. “If you already make too much, why are you working so hard to get ready for this trip?”

“It’s not about the money,” he explains. “Good connections in television and film will open a new world for my bands. Phoenix and Dirt are doing great, but they still have long careers ahead of them. If I’m going to see them through, get their music the audience it deserves, I need to always be growing with them.”

I study Fox, admiring the determination that’s etched like stone into his expression. “You like to act cool and unaffected, but you really care about your bands, don’t you?”

He chuckles. “In this business, it’s easier to pretend not to care. But yeah. I do. And I care about the music.” Fox strokes my thigh gently, his eyes steadily locked on me as we talk. “Sorry to say, this weekend will be all bullshitting, though.”

I laugh. “I’m prepared. Remember, I’ve been rehearsing as your date for weeks now.”

He hums under his breath. “Except you were supposed to keep me out of trouble.”

I pout. “What?” I ask innocently. “Should I not beg you to come all over my tight hole this weekend?”

Fox grunts, and I feel his cock stir to life under my legs. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you’re nice and cum-soaked while we’re in Palm Springs.”

I laugh. “Good.”

Fox leans back, still stroking my thigh, and my cock throbs in my boxer briefs. “How’s the museum?”

“I almost forgot!” I sit up, excited to tell him. “I shared my idea in the meeting yesterday. I talked about how fascinating it is that so many migration patterns are shaped by mating rituals.”

“And?”

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