Handcuffs and Lace 09 -She's Got Balls Read Free Page B

and butterflies dance in his belly. And it still made his cock fill. The way it filled now. Chris reached beneath the sheets, firmly rubbing himself.
His breathing had just started quickening, his head just slicking with moisture, when Vin knocked on his door.
“What?” he yelled, pissed at the interruption.
“Get up.”
“I’m up.” Understatement of the year .
“Get dressed.”
“I’m busy,” Chris snapped, circling his thumb over his moist slit before sliding back down his cock. He watched the foot-shadows shift beneath the door. Finally, they moved away.
Chris quit stroking. He sighed and swore, then rolled out of bed. Looking around for a pair of jeans, he rolled his eyes when he realized there weren’t any. “Undercover ops suck.”
No evidence existed to prove he wasn’t who he said he was. Not even a fucking pair of sweats. He sighed again and reached for the godawful daisy robe. “I’ll fucking kill him if he laughs,” Chris muttered.
He washed up and cinched the belt tightly around his waist. He stormed toward the kitchen with his daisy-covered dick pointing the way. “I’m coming!” he shouted.
Vin leaned in the kitchen archway to the living room and entry, a steaming coffee mug lifted to his lips. His eyebrow arched pointedly as his glacial gaze drifted over Chris and paused on his cock. Still sipping, he reached down the side of the entry wall. Vin lifted an umbrella and popped it open toward Chris. “Fire when ready.”
“Fuck off.”
“Pretty sure that’s your department at the moment,” Vin quipped. He closed and lowered the umbrella, giving Chris plenty of excuse to look at the expanse of naked, muscled chest.
“It would have been if you hadn’t interrupted. What the hell was so important that I had to get up at the ass-crack of dawn?”
Vin took another leisurely sip of coffee. “Oh, there’s no question that it’s wood .” He twisted toward the kitchen, hollering through the pass way as he walked away. “How do you take your coffee?”
“Cream, no sugar,” Chris said, following him in.
The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeated the air. Chris found himself tracking the nimble twist of Vin’s fingers as he uncapped the cream, the flex of tendons over the back of his hand when he lifted the carton and poured carefully. Metal circled and clicked against stoneware, held in Vin’s grasp.
“What’s that?” Chris asked, his eyes settling on a bright orange makeup bag.
“Gag gifts from your crew. Fuzzy cuffs, lube, condoms.”
“Assholes.”
“Whose?” Vin asked calmly.
Chris chose to ignore the barb.
Vin turned and offered the creamy brew to Chris, handle out, even as he took another sip of his own. Chris took it. He scrubbed his hair absently, not caring if the blond strands stood on end.
“God, this smells good,” Chris murmured. Tasted damn fine too and gave him an excuse to drop Vin’s gaze.
“Mm,” Vin acknowledged.
“You’re a big talker, aren’t you?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Thought so. Listen, I’m not sure about you, but I don’t think that a lot of housewives are ready to take visitors this early in the morning. Think you could let me sleep a little longer next time?” Chris asked.
“You stickin’ with that story?” Vin lifted his chin in the direction of Chris’ groin. “Gotta admire your commitment to the cause.”
“It’s been a good boy, chained up for hours at a time. Thought I’d let it out to roam and pat its head. What the fuck do you care?”
Amusement twinkled in Vin’s eyes. He shrugged a shoulder and quietly continued to sip his coffee.
“Bottomless fucking mug is what you’re holding. Sip, sip, sip. I think you’re hiding shit. Hard to trust a guy who doesn’t talk and hides behind a mug. Spit it out, already. I can see the wheels turning.”
“Your switch always on pissed ?” Vin asked.
Chris clamped his jaw.
Vin refilled his mug. He swung the carafe toward Chris in offer.
Black coffee straight up. Figures . “No,