“When I said that I wanted you to give me a chance, I didn’t mean have sex,” Bo mumbled against the pillow.
“I know,” I replied. “It’s a perk.”
Bo’s big body rumbled against me in amusement. A light streamed through from the hallway, and I noticed we hadn’t even closed the door properly. I hadn’t heard Ellie come in, but an elephant could have been rampaging through the apartment and I wouldn’t have noticed. All I could do was laugh in rueful embarrassment.
“Don’t ever laugh after you’ve had sex,” Bo mumbled into my neck. “It gives us performance anxiety.” He rolled over onto his back and then off the bed. He hitched up his jeans, closed the door, and went into the bathroom. I heard the faucet turn on, the toilet flush, and a little rustling. When he returned from the bathroom, he was completely nude. If I’d had an ounce of life left in me, I’d have been excited, but Bo had pretty much screwed me into a state of extreme lethargy. I crawled under the covers and held them up, and he climbed in beside me.
Chapter Nineteen
AM
SLEEPING WITH BO SEEMED TO change everything. It spurred Ellie into moving things along with Ryan. “If you can take the plunge, then I will, too,” Ellie declared when she came home to see Bo dressed in my ill-fitting boxers and nothing else, making mac and cheese. I hustled him into the bedroom to dress while he and Ellie laughed at my bright red face.
Of course Bo wasn’t embarrassed that Ellie had seen him almost nude. I was the one who couldn’t think about it without looking like a tomato.
“Don’t worry, Sunshine,” Bo whispered in my ear as he passed out the bowls of pasta. “I get it. You don’t want to share me.”
In anticipation of Valentine’s Day, a day both Ellie and I despised despite actually having the potential for dates this year, we arranged to watch Magic Mike on Friday night. Bo and Ryan insisted on staying over. The apartment seemed crowded with two rather large males roaming about. Add in Sasha and Brian and I felt like we were hosting a Super Bowl party or something.
Bo was convinced that all of the cast were gay, as no straight man had any decent moves. Ryan then put on a little performance in the living room, both by shaking his booty and then kissing the hell out of Ellie until she was the one red as a fruit.
When we all went down to the Garden that evening, Bo showed off a few moves of his own, which proved that he was once again yanking our chains just to see our reactions.
On Saturday, we ran a few more mayo experiments in one of the houses Bo was helping Finn flip, using people we’d pulled off a Craigslist ad Bo had posted a week ago. The results were largely the same. The women asked for help and the men usually went without. There were deviations, of course. Whether this was the result of social conditioning, however, was something we couldn’t figure out.
We spent all Sunday in bed because the newness of our relationship made us so horny that being in public was actually a dangerous activity. Sasha had had to pull us off the dance floor earlier that week, stating that even at the Garden, some propriety had to be observed.
“You look very good in the morning,” Bo said Sunday morning. He looked edible himself, with his hair mussed from our late night and early morning activities. I stroked a hand over it, more to just enjoy the soft springy feel than to smooth it down.
“What do you want to do today?” he asked, leaning over to kiss my forehead. He tenderly brushed the hair out of my eyes and smiled at me like I was the best thing he’d ever seen.
“I don’t want to move,” I admitted. “Or put clothes on. I just want to stay right here and touch you.”
“Great minds think alike,” he whispered, pulling me on top of him. I felt his cock growing hard against my thigh and felt my own body dampen in response. His palms rested on my hips, repositioning me until our centers were pressed hard flesh against softness. I rocked against him, but his hands kept me from slipping that delicious firmness inside me. Instead he dragged me up and down his length, all the while running his hot, open mouth along my neck.
I curled my arms around his shoulders and held on as he slowly rubbed against me, like we were teenagers in the backseat, and I’d only agreed to over-the-clothes touching.
“Are we sixteen?” I gasped when his cock’s head hit a particularly sensitive part.
“If you were sixteen, you’d be jailbait. But,” and he paused for a second, “I’d still want to be all over you. And inside you.”
“Come inside me now, then,” I pleaded. I tried to wedge a hand between us so I could guide him right to the spot where I needed him.