Page 105 of Gin and Lava

“You calling me dirty?”

“Safety first, hot shot.”

“Yes, I’m clean, Princess.” I adjust uncomfortably on the mattress. “Or do you need an embossed and notarized note from my doctor to prove it?”

“I trust you,” she says with a flirty smile.

“You know, these no-condom promises aren’t helping downtown,” I warn.

“Yeah, how long before …” she looks around, “it goes away?”

“Why don’t you get dressed,” I groan. “Then there might actually be an answer to that question that doesn’t require you sitting on it.”

She bites her lip.

“Not helping, Tate.”

She blushes, not realizing her tits are perky as sin, and the messy morning hair makes me want to drag her under this blanket and see how quiet she can be.

Unfortunately, I know from all of our previous encounters that Naomi is not made of silent film material.

“Good morning, love birds!” Shauri chirps, skipping into the sunroom carrying three steaming hot cups of coffee.

And that’s the other reason we’re not fucking on this porch.

I grab a pillow and cover myself up, pretending it’s comfortable to lounge in my half-forward, half-sideways yoga pose.

“Shauri!” Naomi chirps back, jolting up as if she has something to hide. Only, the sudden motion tosses me off the mattress with a tsunami of air undulation.

I tumble to the floor, scrambling for the pillow to keep my cock from whipping out—because batter-up, it’d be just my luck to knock one of those coffee cups out of Shauri’s hand with my battering ram.

“Oh, shit!”

“Mason!”

“The bed—!”

“Fuck!”

Coffee cups fall. Shauri and Naomi are like pins, and I’m the bowling ball.

Smash!

“Oh God, that’s hot!”

This is not how I imagined rolling around on the floor with two chicks would go. And trust me, one sure-fire way to get rid of a boner is to douse it in hot coffee. A string of expletives shoot out of my mouth, and my boxers look like I’ve had a different kind of accident.

“Oh my goodness, are you okay?”

“Did I burn your penis?!”

There’s laughing. There’s swearing. There’s suddenly a room of people I barely know stuffing themselves onto the sunporch like the house is on fire—which my junk would believe in its scalded state.

“Who burnt their penis?”

“Do you need to go to a hospital?”

“Should we look at it?”

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