More Than a Hotline Fling

-3-

Damian's POV

"Fuck, we are sooooo late," June moaned quietly into my shoulder and tugged her black leather skirt down with her hand.

She repeated those words from the moment we pulled ourselves off my sofa, which my ass stuck to. It stung like a bandage ripped off when I stood up.

I pressed my lips together so my 'Not as late as Celia' comment stayed in my mind. June's skirt, like some of her other coupon-obsession deals, was a lost cause yet her stubbornness clung to the idea she smoothed it over.

Like recovered and rescued living things, June was a sucker for coupons and bargains. Why she fell for such 'good deals,' as she called them, I also had no idea. As the prime recipient of her Brazilian waxes, and another year's worth was her present this year, I confessed that they weren't all bad.

Apron-only cooking lessontss and a Kama Sutra class were better on paper than in reality. Both would have been fun with the two of us, but not in a group class setting.

The most recent 'fail' example of my girlfriend's odd combination of a weakness and determination happened two days ago. Why she thought I wanted a buy one, get one free dirty water hotdog from the vendor closest to where the Central Park carriage horses shit on West 59th Street, I still had no idea. The second June's hand petted a nearby horse, my hot dog went into the nearest trash can. She had to have known, by the exaggerated way she choked hers down like she deep throated it.

Two steps off the elevator, my shoulders relaxed when she thrust both the holly and aloe plants into my hands and yanked her wrinkled skirt down. A smile twitched my lips because I'd abandoned salvaging my pants and changed into a fresh pair.

"I like it shorter," I teased and looked at her backside... to make sure it was covered, like a good, protective, gun-licensed boyfriend would do.

"You would," she huffed quietly and snatched her plant friends back. "Holster the teasing and knock already, please?"

I chuckled quietly because at one point June told me she preferred that I knocked on people's doors. She'd said something about my fist slammed harder and was easier to hear over than her 'are you sleeping?'-type soft knuckle raps.

Full honesty, I was fucking her from behind during that conversation, so the details past the part where she told me my door knocks were sexy are a bit fuzzy.

A fresh paint smell lingered in the loft-style apartment building's lobby and hallway. I locked my eyes on June's, which flashed like tiny Christmas stars as the side of my hand pounded on our designation's doorway.

My stomach clenched at the sound of approached steps that muffled on the other side of the apartment door, where-

"Wow!" Adam Johnson catcalled out from where he opened the door to the apartment he shared with his boyfriend Vaugh Goldin. "You came... finally."

With my slight height gain over Adam, his perfectly gelled brown curly hair made mine look like a porcupine in comparison. Since the only person I cared about impressing stood next to me, I hadn't even attempted fluffing up the flat spot in the back where my head pressed against the sofa. While I worked out for work stamina and stress relief, Adam was fit but his muscles were slender and tapered, especially his legs.

He couldn't look more different from his boyfriend.

At the thought of his boyfriend, a tall, rail-thin guy who only lifted photography equipment, with slicked back blonde hair and piercing blue eyes appeared. Vaugh stepped flush against Adam's side and smiled at us with a flash of toothpaste-commercial white.