The Hookup (Moonlight and Motor Oil #1)(63)

“Hmm,” I hummed, deciding to expend more effort and I did this by lifting my head and running my nose along the side of his neck.

Then I let my head plop back.

His thumb started rolling circles on my temple.

“You haven’t guessed it, sp?tzchen,” he told me.

“Guessed what?”

“What I like.”

“I thought you liked blowing for me.”

“I do.”

“And me riding your face.”

His voice shook with laughter. “That too. But that’s not all.”

“You like my guac.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, and the way he did made my sex haze dissipate.

I looked into his eyes and I saw humor there, for sure, warmth and sweetness, definitely.

But something more.

No.

Everything more.

“What else do you like?” I asked quietly.

“You,” he said simply.

Me.

“Johnny,” I breathed.

His face disappeared in my neck and he said there, “The sex kitten you who nuzzles my dick after I blow for her twice, and I haven’t done that shit since maybe I was thirteen. And the working woman you. And the take-care-of-her-sister you. And the miss-her-mother you. And the thinking-Margot-is-sweet-instead-of-bossy-and-controlling you. And the love on your dogs, my dog, your cats, your horses and letting birds jump all over you you. The you in that blue dress yesterday and the you in the jeans I met you in and the you in that white dress at The Star and the you in my tee in the stables.”

His thumb was still drawing circles on my temple opposite where his face was in my neck so I turned my head and kissed his wrist.

He lifted his head and I turned mine back.

“I don’t mind changing diapers, baby,” he whispered.

“I’m glad,” I whispered back.

“I do mind my cum drying on you.”

“It’s okay,” I told him.

“It’s not.”

I gave him a squeeze. “I really don’t mind.”

“I do ’cause getting it off you gives me an excuse to wash it off in the shower.”

My eyes got bigger.

His eyes got hotter.

And then he was off me and I was being dragged across the bed to my feet whereupon I was promptly being tugged down the hall toward the shower.



I was brushing my teeth in the basin Johnny didn’t use in his bathroom, wearing his tee, no panties (I tried to put them on but Johnny was too close and he ripped them from my fingers, threw them in the middle of the bed and shook his head at me, saying, “Babe, would you get with the program? Your man likes easy access,” after which he’d sauntered off in nothing but a towel and disappeared in the bathroom).

We’d obviously had our shower.

After, and after I’d pulled his tee back on, when I’d joined him back in the bathroom and rooted through the bag I’d brought to get my toothbrush, I found out what “easy access” meant.

This did not mean he did me braced against the basin.

What it did mean was offering me another nuance of how Johnny could be appreciative.

This being me brushing my teeth, Johnny coming up behind me, lifting my T-shirt (so I stopped brushing my teeth because I froze) and then running his hands across my behind while he watched his hands move and I watched him moving his hands in the mirror.

If I worshipped his cock, he was right then worshipping my behind.

It was sexy as all get out.

It was also somehow piercingly sweet.

When he was done, he slid his hands flat from my hips across my belly with the shirt still up, wrapping his arms around me so he could kiss my neck. He tipped his head back and looked into my eyes in the mirror.

“Sweetest piece of ass ever and not just because she likes it fucked,” he muttered. He kissed my neck again, gave me a squeeze and then said, “I’ll bring you some coffee.”

He walked out still in his towel, Ranger following him.

It took me a while to get myself together to start brushing my teeth again but then it happened.

I saw it.

Or I didn’t see it.

And I stopped brushing.

The pretty jar of bath salts was gone.

I heard a phone ring, and since Johnny and I had the same ring, it could be either of ours, so I spit, rinsed and was wiping my hands to dry them when Johnny strolled in wearing just his towel, phone to his ear, cup of coffee in his hand, dog at his heels.

He came to me, put the coffee down by my sink, leaned a hip against the counter and said into the phone, “Not sure, I’ll have to ask.”

By the way, he did all this, from the second he entered the bathroom, looking at me.

“All I can do is ask, Margot,” he continued.

Oh boy.

Margot was in the mix.

Johnny kept going.

“Yeah. It’s fine.” Pause then, “Yeah, like I said, it’s fine.” His lips hitched at me. “It’s good.” Another pause then through a chuckle, “You wanna ask her? She’s standing right here in my bathroom wearing nothing but my tee.”

I instantly grew horrified.

“Johnny!” I snapped, slapping his chest.

He captured my hand and held it flat against his chest.

“Yeah, it’s that fine,” he stated. “And yeah, her sister is here, and she and her kid are coming over and hanging with me today and I’m gonna grill for them tonight. But no, you can’t come over unless I ask Iz and make sure it’s okay.”