Page 8

TANNER

“Son of a bitch.” My hand is doing a piss-poor job to take the edge off the fevered blood running through me.

I figured by the time I got home and took Tim out—his name is courtesy of my only nephew, Jace, who was a toddler when I brought my dog home, nameless, and of course, Jace was in a Minion/Despicable Me phase, took one look at the small puppy, and named him Tim—it would have calmed down.

Hell, I even threw the ball around until we were both worn out.

That all changed the second I started the shower.

My thoughts went right back to Marlie, her kiss on my lips, the taste of champagne mixed with her own uniqueness.

How she had no problem giving as good as she got, soft purrs, sweet moans, a banging-ass body.

It’s the reason I’m fisting my cock, forearm holding me up against the tile in the shower, water pouring down, sluicing over my body.

“Marlie,” I groan out loud, my balls drawing up tight as I imagine her lying in my bed, her hourglass figure completely fucking naked, breasts that would overfill my hands, skin that I know would blossom with redness with every heightened sensation I gave her.

The way I’d tease her body, my length sliding through her sweet syrup that I can’t wait to get a taste of.

Damn, this shit is going to happen, and soon.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chant at the thought of being inside Marlie, her tits bouncing, hips arching up to meet mine as I paint her skin with my cum taking over.

My head meets my forearm propping myself up as I glide my hand up and down, creating the friction I need along with the momentum, all while the fantasy plays out in my mind on an endless cycle.

It takes me a few minutes to recover. Meanwhile, the once raging hot water is turning lukewarm, and it’s a damn good thing because after that, my body is still overheating with desire.

I turn the water to ice cold, letting it cool me down. Unfortunately, it’s doing jack shit for my cock that has a mind of its own.

“Down, boy,” I tell myself. After a few minutes of standing under the cold water, I turn it off, grab a towel, and go through the motions of drying off, brushing my teeth, and getting my ass into bed.

“Come on, Tim time to get some shuteye.” Not sure who I’m talking to seeing how he’s already at the foot of the bed, curled into a tiny ball for his size, and sleeping on his blanket.

Did I mention my nephew spoils my dog fucking rotten?

Every time the family comes over, Tim is getting a new toy, new treat, and dog bed that he sniffs his nose at any time I attempt to get him to sleep in it instead of lording over my bed, and in bed with me is where he always seems to be.

Shit, my phone lighting up on my nightstand alerts me that I never texted Marlie that I made it home. I’m stuck with the thought of texting her and possibly waking her up.

“What do you think Tim, should I text her or not?” Obviously, he doesn’t fucking respond.

“God, I’ve reverted to asking my dog for woman advice.

” I slide into bed and look at the emails and other messages that have poured in, mostly from my brother Keller, a couple from my mom sending a meme and then asking if I’ll be at our family dinner tomorrow.

As if I’d miss that. I’m not trying to get my ears boxed or a loaf of bread thrown at my head.

Those I won’t respond to. The emails aren’t that important and can wait until I get some damn sleep.

Then, after I work at the office for a few hours, I’ll see Marlie and follow it up with heading to our parents’ house, see my family, eat dinner, come home, and start the vicious cycle all over again.

“Fuck it,” I say to the empty room. Tim clearly has zero advice. What’s he going to give me, a paw as a high five? That’s highly unlikely with the way he’s snoring louder than most grown men. I scroll to Marlie’s name and type out a text.

Me: Made it home. Sweet dreams.

After a few minutes of no response, I put my phone on charge, turn the television on for background noise besides Tim sawing logs, and try to get some sleep myself.

Hopefully, in the morning, I’ll hear back from Marlie, and if things go as planned, tomorrow’s plans will be a fuck of a lot more fun, that’s for sure.