Grady was on his second round of whiskey when it happened.
His rose-colored glasses were dislodged by a hot blonde—and
yes, Nolan was right, he did always look on the bright side. Force of habit to
offset his profession. And yes, Nolan was right that she smelled like peaches.
Ripe and juicy, with a dollop of sugary sweet cream on top.
But back to the problem at hand.
Nicole’s surprise offer of no-strings sex—nothing more,
nothing less, thank you kind sir.
As it turns out, theirs wasn’t gonna be a story they could
tell the grandkids.
It could be a story for an erotic website.
Perhaps a smutty romance novel. For sure, a fantasy you conjured up when you
lost your internet connection during a solo session.
But a downright illegal story for the faint of heart,
minor-aged children, and his ninety-year-old grandma.
She didn’t want a casual, exploratory relationship.
She didn’t want commitment.
She wanted another C-word entirely. A sexually explicit
C-word, and yeah, he was good at that. And sure, he desperately wanted to do
that to her, among other sexually explicit things. And no, she’d not outright
asked him for cunnilingus, because had she, he would’ve choked on his Jameson
and required the Heimlich Maneuver. But she’d made her parameters known.
Now to be clear, this wasn’t a bad thing.
It just changed up his timeline a bit.