Page 105 of Filthy and the Beast

“I could use a little dinner first,” I tell him. “Refuel?”

“Hell yeah.” He sits up. “I’m fucking starving.”

I kiss him one last time and roll off. “Leftovers. Let’s throw something together.”

Enzo takes my hand, stopping me. When I turn, he gently wipes the cum off my chest with his t-shirt, does the same to himself, and tosses it aside.

“Can still feel you inside me,” he says.

Thinking about my cum leaking from his hole, I tremble. “That’s hot.”

He grins. “It is.”

He takes my hand again. Both naked and grinning, we walk out to the kitchen. Neither of us want to take our hands off each other, but I make him wash up before we prepare the food, then press him against the cupboards to kiss him again.

I tap the countertop. “I have to unpack my cookie jars.”

He growls. “Can’t believe you almost moved out. I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

I laugh. “I suppose we haven’t formally discussed the details of our new cohabitation yet.”

Enzo rubs the back of his head. “You just made me orgasm by shoving your dick in my ass. Now you’re saying there’s stillmorewe have to talk about?” he jokes.

I click my tongue. “So much more,” I joke back.

My phone buzzes; I tossed it on the counter earlier. It’s a message from Fox, which surprises me. We don’t really text.

“I’m just going to make sure everything is okay.” I open up the message.

Hey Damian. I’m out for drinks with a colleague, a social media agent. She follows you and loves your pit bull posts. Wanted to ask if would consider taking a meeting with her?

Surprised, I look up, right as the dogs scurry from the living room. They run around Enzo, who smiles even bigger as he squats and pets them.

He tilts his eyes up. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” I try to wrap my head around the text. “More than just okay.”

EPILOGUE

ENZO

The next fall…

“Maisie,on your toes. That’s right. Miguel, no switching stances. Keep it simple. Very nice, Lulu. Just lift that chin, too.”

The new boxers pivot and step-drag and dance around the mat, making good use of our space at the rear of Reggie’s gym. Everyone drips with sweat, faces scrunched up in concentration. The class is offered for LGBTQ people, intended for those without much athletic experience.

No way in hell anyone here is going for the pros. That’s what makes teaching the class so good. We challenge ourselves, but we make sure to have a good time, too. All the best parts of boxing with none of the bullshit.

“Hey, Coach Enzo.” Tongue out the side of her mouth, Lulu executes the footwork. In her late teens, she’s one of the youngest members of the class and also one of the most enthusiastic. “Are you going to let us punch something today?”

“Yeah,” Amir agrees. “You promised last time, remember?”

I grab a nearby boxing glove and toss it underhand to Amir. Tall and lanky, when he tries to catch it, his footwork tangles and he tumbles to the mat.

“Hey!” Laughing, he scrambles to his feet. “What was that about?”

“Can’t catch a punch, can’t throw a punch,” I tell him, and Maisie groans.

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