Page 50 of Property of Tacoma

It took a while when I got out to find my place—to figure out where I fit after being gone for so long.

“What about this one?” I ask, touching a small fox tattooed behind her ear.

She laughs. “That one’s pretty obvious.”

“And how’d you get that name? Foxy?”

“My grandfather gave it to me when I was a kid. He always said I was clever as a fox.” Her expression softens at the memory. “I’ve been Foxy ever since.”

I lean down and press a kiss to the tattoo. “It suits you.”

She shivers at the touch of my lips. “What about you? How’d you get your road name?”

“I was born in Tacoma, Washington,” I explain. “My parents were nomads back then, traveling all over. They didn’t settle in Florida until I was about three.”

A thoughtful expression takes over her face. “So you’ve always been Tacoma?”

“Pretty much. Though my brother used to call me Taco when we were kids.”

She laughs, the sound going straight to my cock. “Taco? Seriously?”

“Don’t even think about it,” I warn. “I’ll deny it if you tell anyone.”

She mimes zipping her lips, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

I pull her closer, our bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. Her head rests on my chest, and I find myself playing with her hair, twisting the soft strands around my fingers.

“This is nice,” she murmurs, her voice growing sleepy.

“Yeah,” I agree, surprised to find I mean it. “It is.”

I’m not used to this part—the after.

Usually, I fuck and leave, or if the woman’s at the clubhouse, I send her on her way once I’m done.

But with Foxy, I find myself wanting her to stay, wanting to keep her in my bed, in my arms.

The thought should terrify me, but it doesn’t. If anything, it feels like this is how it was always meant to be.

“Tacoma?” she asks, her voice soft in the darkness.

“Yeah, angel?”

"What are we doing?" she whispers.

"Right now? I'm about to make you come again," I tell her, rolling her onto her back and trailing my fingers down her belly to the promised land.

She catches my wrist, stopping me. "You know what I mean."

I sigh, meeting her eyes.

I do know. But I don't have an answer that makes any sense. We just met. This pull isn’t anything I’ve ever felt before. And quite frankly, I’m not sure what to fucking think about all the conflicting thoughts running rampant through my head.

Keep her. Send her home to her brother. What the fuck am I supposed to do? None of it makes any sense.

What I am sure of is that I need to be inside her.

"Let's not overthink it," I suggest, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "We've got tonight, right?"