He's Mine Not Hers

by Gianni Holmes

  She ended up on the floor in a split that had me clutching the sofa. Back pressed to the floor, legs kicking in the air, rolling over to her stomach, gyrating on the floor in sexually suggestive moves.

  “Fuck!” I’d had enough.

  A blur of black and orange streaked by me. At first, I didn’t understand what was going on until Jason shrieked. Miss Puss had launched herself onto the pompom on his butt, batting at it with her paws.

  “Lucas, get her off me!” he screeched. “Get her off!”

  “Stay still!” I cried, rushing over to drop to my knees on the floor beside him while the sultry voice of the singer continued. I wrapped a hand around Miss Puss and gently lifted. “Come on, Miss Puss. You’ve quite possibly just ruined the most fun I’ve had in the longest time. Now get off Jason’s butt.”

  The cat refused to let go, hanging on to the pompom for dear life. I didn’t want to pull her and end up hurting her or Jason. Despite no longer being a wild cat, Miss Puss reacted instinctively when she felt she was threatened. She wanted that pompom, and there was nothing I could do to get her off.

  “Lucas, get her off!” Jason begged. “Oh my God, I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “I’m trying, baby, just hang on.” A minute later the song had stopped, and Miss Puss still hadn’t let go of the pompom. “I think you may have to take the underwear off,” I told him.

  “How am I going to do that?”

  “It can be done. Just go slowly.”

  “This is so embarrassing,” Jason mumbled. “I’ve a cat stuck to my ass.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t see that coming either. Come on. We have to work together.”

  He slid his hands into the waistband of his thong and slowly worked it down his hips and his bottom. The cat followed the movement of the ball, and I held her, trailing her down Jason’s legs to avoid her digging her claws into him. No, that was my job for later.

  Eventually, Jason pulled his legs from the underwear and turned over to sit bare ass on the floor. His cock was tucked up to his perineum, and without the underwear, I could see the medical tape he used to get it done.

  Miss Puss grabbed her furball and took off to God only knew where with her new toy.

  Jason’s shoulders shook. Alarmed, I crawled over to him on my knees. “Are you okay? Jason, are you hurt?”

  A giggle escaped him. He raised his head, eyes crinkled, long extended eyelashes shimmering as he let out a full-bellied laugh. I chuckled, joining in the humorous situation now that I knew he was unhurt. Jason leaned into me, and I pulled him onto my lap.

  “That was amazing,” I told him. “You were doing such a fine job.”

  “Until our crazy hormonal cat landed on my ass,” he added on a laugh. “Miss Puss completely ruined my death drop. I’ve been practicing it.”

  “I guess I’ll just see it at the club, then.”

  I got to my feet and helped him up. “Not now?” Jason asked.

  “How about you untuck and I show you what was going through my mind while you were dancing for me.”

  “Why don’t you help me get out of costume?” he suggested.

  “Sure. Go ahead, I’m right behind you.”

  He smirked at me. “I bet you are.”

  I wasn’t kidding. I allowed him to go ahead of me just to watch every move of his fine ass as he took the stairs in those killer heels. He knew what I was up to, and he put on a dramatic show too, swinging his skinny boyish hips from side to side in true Miss Foxx style.

  By the time we got to the top of the stairs, I was panting. “We better get you untucked first. I’m not sure I’ll be able to wait until you remove all your costume though. I’m so fucking hard just looking at you, baby boy.”

  “Ugh. Well, don’t give me an erection yet!”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Jason

  Sex had never seemed vital to me. Even when I used to jerk off some three to four times every day until I chafed my junk, it hadn’t seemed necessary. I’d easily given it up to allot my dick some rest time after I’d wanked it too much. The doctor had assured me it wasn’t broken and I wouldn’t be made impotent.

  My poor limp dick had just needed a break. So I’d given it one and turned my attention to something else, although I couldn’t exactly remember what. Making out had been fun just as much as exchanging handjobs, but I could have done without.

  After sex with Lucas last night, however, I concluded that sex had become vital to me. As vital as air. Or food. Or as much as a Type 1 diabetic patient needed insulin. Okay, maybe that stretched it too far, but it came pretty darn close. I needed sex to thrive, and not just sex with anyone. Sex with Lucas.

  The morning after Miss Puss ruined my drag act for Lucas—or perhaps she didn’t ruin it at all considering what had happened after—I lay in bed, covers up to my neck, completely naked beneath, and watched Lucas get dressed.

  He was late for the television interview with Becca, something she would no doubt blame me for. Like it was my fault he’d not been able to resist my naked ass pressed up to his erection when he woke up. So, what if I’d pretended to be asleep while I’d moved against him, sliding my ass over his erection until I had his attention? So, what if I had moaned just a little in my pretend state of sleep?

  Technically, he could have ignored me.

  I hadn’t asked him to reach for the lube in the drawer, push my right leg forward, and slide his cock inside me. What if I had begged him, “Oh yes, Daddy, fuck me harder, please”? He was already in, so I might as well enjoy the experience, right? Who could blame me for that?

  He shuffled through his closet, moving quietly to avoid waking me up. I could have made a sound to let him know I was awake, but why spoil a good thing? I enjoyed watching him when he wasn’t aware of me being weird about it. This way I could look at him with all the longing and love inside, not having to school my appearance to suit our current narrative.

  He exited the closet with shirt and pants in hand. He pushed his arms into his shirt but left it unbuttoned as he reached for his pants.

  “Motherfucker,” he muttered when he tried to put his foot into one pant leg but missed it completely. He lost his balance and almost sprawled onto the floor.

  A giggle escaped me before I pulled the cover over my head. It was hot beneath the covers, but maybe if I remained very still, he would think he had heard wrong.

  He yanked the sheet from over my head. “Are you laughing at me?”

  I stared at him wide-eyed. “Me? I’d never laugh at you, Daddy Luke?”

  “No? Because I think you would. If I weren’t late, I’d put you over my knees for a proper spanking.”

  I frowned at him. “When will you stop teasing me and just do it?”

  He traced a finger down the side of my face. “That’s for me to decide, little boy.”

  He pulled the cover farther down my body, and I allowed him. I covered my semi with my hands. “You’re late.”

  “This won’t take long,” he said, kissing me soundly. “I love the way you’re able to come so often and quickly.”

  “Yeah? It doesn’t bother you?”

  “Nope.” He leaned forward to kiss me. “I find it hot the way you explode when you’re in my mouth.”

  “Daddy Luke, you say the sexiest things about me.”

  “That’s because you’re the sexiest thing ever, puddin’.”

  I blanched, staring at him with wrinkled brows. “Puddin’? Like Harley is Joker’s puddin’?”

  “Actually, I was thinking of how sweet pudding is—you know, like the ones you love to eat so much? But uh yeah, that can work too.”

  I scowled as hard as I could at him. What kind of puddin’ was that to call someone? I wanted the Joker kind.

  “You better mean it the other way around, Daddy Luke, because those two can’t stand to live without each other.”

  He removed my hands to reveal my slender dick pointing north like Lady Liberty’s torch. He stroked me gently and rais
ed his head to stare at me.

  “Hmm, then yes, I mean it the other way around.”

  Wait a minute. Is Lucas saying what I think he’s saying?

  I knew he cared for me. It was there in his actions, but we’d never really gone in depth into how deeply he cared.

  “Daddy Luke!” I started to ask for clarification, but then he lowered his head, capturing my cock with his lips, and I forgot everything else but how good I felt in his mouth. Although I’d come a scant forty-five minutes or so before, the heat tingling in my spine, spearing into my gut, were signs that it was about to happen again. And soon too.

  “Oh God,” I gasped, gripping the sheet by my hips, rolling my hips to thrust gently into his mouth. I was in no danger of gagging him. I neither had the length nor the girth to accomplish such a feat, but my hips could only follow the command of his lips, his tongue.

  He moaned, the sound causing vibrations to tingle up and down my cock. Lucas pushed my legs forward, and I gripped them, hooking my elbows behind my knees. With two fingers, he played with my sensitive hole, not entering me but stroking over the puckered flesh. The pad of his fingers rubbed over and over until I was desperate for him to fuck me again. The need consumed me, gutted me, but before I could beg him for more, my body revealed it didn’t really need more.

  My eyes closed. I had to clamp them tight against the strength of my release. The muscles in my neck strained. My hands tightened on my knees, and my poor body almost snapped in half at how rigid I was. Lucas never let up but continued stroking me with his mouth and playing with my ass.

  Spent, I unhooked my knees. My legs trembled as I placed them on the bed. He released my cock, engaging the head in a soft kiss. He gave the same treatment to my thighs until he cupped the side of my neck and kissed me. I whimpered, wrapping my noodle arms around his neck, clinging to him and kissing him back.

  “Now I really should finish getting ready or I’ll be late,” he mumbled against my lips. “We’re not on until half an hour into the show, so I have time to get there.”

  He pressed another kiss to my lips before he returned to dressing quickly. I was too spent to do anything more than to watch him like before, but this time I did so openly.

  At one point, while brushing his hair, he turned to the bed. “Jace?”

  “Yes?”

  I held my breath, almost convinced he was going to tell me he loved me. The way he looked at me, I believed it with every fiber of my being, but at the last minute, he shook his head and turned away.

  “Will you get out of bed and walk me to the car?”

  For him? Anything. I would have slithered on my belly, rolling myself down the stairs, if that was what it took.

  “I’ll see if my legs have stopped being overcooked noodles,” I replied, shuffling over to the side of the bed. “Note for next time. If you want me to walk down the stairs, no making me boneless. I need my bones to walk.”

  He chuckled. “I’m going to miss your humor today.”

  And I’m going to miss you.

  But I didn’t say that to him, because he hadn’t exactly told me he would miss me. Just my humor.

  I managed to get to my feet, arms above my head as I stretched, standing on the tip of my toes. A shirt hit my chest before I was back down on the soles of my feet. I caught it, holding up the material. His shirt from last night.

  “Hurry up. Put that on.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Don’t even start, Jace.”

  I slid the shirt over my head, and he came over to help me with the arms. He tugged the hem down to midthigh and groaned as he looked over me. “You look damn fuckable in my shirt.”

  If preening made one a peacock, then I was pretty sure I was one at that moment. I would have made any peacock proud.

  I didn’t bother with shoes but walked barefoot with him down the stairs. Right after sex this morning, I had dozed off. He must have sneaked downstairs and made breakfast given the delicious aroma which wafted from the kitchen.

  “You made me breakfast?” I asked, looking up at him.

  “Yes, or you’ll eat junk.”

  He knew me so well.

  His car was already parked at the front of the house. Together we approached the vehicle. He opened his car door and turned to me. I had my hands behind my back, one foot behind the other as I stared up at him.

  “What?” he asked on a small laugh. “You look cute and innocent like that. It’s a pity I know the dirty, dirty boy you are.”

  “Only for you,” I said.

  He pulled me into him, lips on mine, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, reveling in being with him. Nothing could change this between us. Nothing. Not even his marriage to Becca.

  “I’ll see you later,” he stated. “You sure you didn’t want to come with us to the station?”

  “I’ll catch it live on the TV,” I answered. “I can’t trust myself not to get into mischief if I’m there.”

  “True. Well, see ya.”

  He dropped a kiss to my forehead before getting into his car, and because I couldn’t help being a tease, I headed for the house but lifted his shirt, flashing him.

  He honked his car horn at me and poked his head through the window to whistle at me. “Sexy ass!”

  I tugged my shirt back down and ran up to the house. I slipped inside and closed the door behind me, leaning back against it. Ugh, I loved him so much. That had to be enough to sustain me throughout his marriage to Becca.

  It’s just a sham, Jason.

  “Meow!”

  I glanced down to find Miss Puss had left a peace offering at my feet.

  “Ugh!” I jumped away, almost gagging at the sight of the bloodied mouse on the floor. “Miss Puss!”

  “Meow!” she argued right back at me.

  “Okay, I forgive you,” I told her, glancing away from the mouse. “You’re my favorite animal again. Just no more gifts.”

  If Lucas was home, I would have asked him to clean up the mess. Miss Puss might have been my cat, but Lucas had all but adopted her.

  I hated touching it, but I couldn’t leave the dead mouse in the hallway. I buried the mouse in the backyard, cleaned the floor, and promptly took a long shower. I was covered in whisker burns from neck to thighs, but I loved every single mark. I almost wished they wouldn’t fade, but it only meant he would have a blank canvas again to showcase the art of his lovemaking.

  I had a big breakfast in the living room. A night of marathon sex would do that to you. I felt like I was starving, and Lucas had been thoughtful enough to make me breakfast before he left the house. Seriously, just for the way he fed me, I should marry the guy.

  Except I would have to get in line first.

  Scowling, I curled up in my corner of the sofa and found the local channel that would air the interview with the Wedding Experience followed by Lucas and Becca. I still had thirty minutes to wait, but I didn’t want to miss a bit of it. Did I feel bad about giving Lucas questions the TV host never sent over? Maybe a little, but in my defense, they were still good practice material. They could totally ask him any of those questions, and at least he should thank me he already had the answers.

  Their segment was delayed by five minutes, but eventually Miranda came on air. I could understand why Becca didn’t like her, and it was more than the fact that the other woman was beautiful. She had a very fake air about her; even her laugh was brittle. She went through the routine of explaining about the Wedding Experience “sponsoring” Becca and Lucas’s wedding.

  I sat up straight when Becca and Lucas came on air holding hands. I hadn’t helped Becca get ready, but I’d picked out her outfit and instructed her on how to apply her makeup. She had listened, and she looked great. She had the kind of face that a camera loved. She and Lucas squeezed into the love seat on set, Lucas’s arm draped around the back of the sofa.

  “Hi, Stephen, thanks for having us today!” she greeted the host, who couldn’t help staring at her despite her “fiancé” bei
ng present.

  “Wow, it’s my pleasure,” Stephen responded. “Lucas, if you don’t mind me saying so, your fiancée is absolutely stunning.”

  “That’s why I’m marrying her,” Lucas replied.

  Becca playfully slapped Lucas’s arm and pouted up at him, the pink lipstick doing the look justice. “Yes, right? Because it absolutely has nothing at all to do with the fact that you love me.”

  “Guilty,” Lucas professed.

  “You’re adorable together,” the host remarked. “What luck that the Wedding Experience is sponsoring your wedding. How did that happen?”

  Lucas blinked, taken aback by the question that had not been among the ones I’d written for him.

  “I’m employed with the Wedding Experience,” Becca replied, filling in for Lucas, who frowned and stared directly in the camera. Right at me.

  Uh-oh.

  “When Miranda found out Lucas—” She turned and gave him a kiss right there on the lips. “—and I were getting married, she offered to help us with the wedding, and as the Wedding Experience has such expertise in this area, of course I couldn’t turn down the generous offer. Could we, sweetie?”

  “Sweetie” kissed her on the forehead right where he had kissed me this morning. He pulled Becca closer to him, intertwining her fingers with his. Their clasped hands rested on his thigh. I couldn’t take my eyes off their hands.

  “We certainly couldn’t,” Lucas replied. “It’s rather quick, I admit. Just two weeks to prepare, but that’s to show the confidence we have in the Wedding Experience. Besides, the sooner I marry this lady, the better.”

  “Have you known each other for long?”

  “Fourteen years,” Becca and Lucas answered in unison, then laughed.

  “And when did you both know that she was the one, Lucas?”

  I scoffed and muttered, “When his father forced him to get a wife.”

  “Becca got me my first job as a chef,” Lucas replied. My eyes focused on the way he stroked the back of Becca’s hand. Every stroke fed a fear in me. Fear that they looked so real together like this.