Tuesday Tales - Tiny

 It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

Today we have a snippet from Last Defense, Harrisburg Railers #5, an MM hockey romance book I'm currently writing with RJ. In this excerpt we get a fun little bit of a morning after with Max and Ben.

Our word prompt today is “Tiny”.

This story may have erotic scenes, strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!

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The windows glowed with sunny warmth as I moved around my tiny kitchen. Coffee was soon perking, and I was digging out the makings for some French toast. Music from my phone filled the room, the Miracles “Love Machine” taking over my body. Pan in one hand, spatula in the other, I broke into a set of fine funky moves. I was a damn fine dancer. Liam always said so.

I spun around and there stood Max in the doorway, rumpled and freshly out of bed, his arms folded over his chest.

“I cook better with music,” I said in reply to his one bushy eyebrow slipping up his brow. “Enjoy the show.”

I danced around a bit more, eager to hear him compliment my moves.

“Are you in some sort of pain?” He asked which kind of stalled my slick steps.

“No, why?”

He shook his head. “You ever watch Seinfeld?”

“Sure.” I lowered the spatula and frying pan from over my head. I also stopped shaking my ass.

“You kind of look like Elaine when she dances.”

My jaw hit my chest.

“You think I can’t dance?” I was stunned. Liam had always been glowing in his praise of my dancing ability. He was so bad, in comparison, that he never fast danced with me because he’d look so bad. Or so he had said.

“Not really, no.”

I tossed the frying pan to the stove. “I can dance.”

“No, sorry, you really can’t. I mean, that’s fine because I can’t either.”

Guess he could sense I was getting mad. “I can dance. You’re just not used to seeing such soulful smooth moves.”

“If you say so.” He pattered to the door and let Bucky in. I was too stunned and hurt to move.

“I can dance.”

He walked to me, took the spatula from my hand, and then wrapped me in a huge, warm hug.

“No, you can’t.” He nuzzled up my neck, nipping and nibbling along my jugular. “Want to go back to bed for a bit?”

“I may never go to bed with you again,” I teased. Sort of.

“Now that would be a real pity.” He captured my mouth, his breath minty fresh, then slowly backed me against the still cold stove. “If I tell you that you dance wonderfully will you come to bed?”

“Too late for that, Heller. I know what you really think.” I pushed a hand into his briefs, the back of my fingers skimming the hard length of him.

“I’ll fill your ears with your other talents.” Oh, he was smooth. Not as smooth as me on the dance floor, but smooth. “I’ll fill your ass with my cock too, if you want.”

Oh, yes, I did want. I wanted that really badly.

“Benton! You have thirty minutes until morning service. Drop what you’re doing and get dressed for church.” I cringed at the sound of Aunt Glenna right outside the screen door. Max startled violently. I jerked my hand out of his underwear and cussed.

“You want to watch that talk, Benton. Morning, Max. You’re coming to church too.” Not a question. A statement.

“Uh, yes Ma’am.”

“Good boy.”

Off she went in her Sunday best.

“I need to move,” I sighed and snuggled in close for one more kiss, then we had to get moving, before one of them came back and caught me with my hand around his dick again.

Copyright 2017 ©by V.L. Locey

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