Then again, given how big he was getting, maybe I should cut back on them or buy him diet ones. Could you get treadmills for cats?
“You’re back,” Bex called as she walked toward me with a smile on her face. She was wearing cut-off sweats and a hacked-up t-shirt covered in paint, so I guess she’d decided to get more done instead of resting.
“Can you get treadmills for cats? He’s getting unhealthily fat.”
Squatting down, she picked Prince up and cuddled him to her chest. “I know, and his stomach’s solid. I called the vet earlier and made an appointment for tomorrow, just to make sure it’s not anything bad.”
“I’m fairly certain you’ll discover horns and the soul of Satan inside him. Maybe it’s evil growing daily?”
Rolling her eyes, she kissed the top of his purring head. “Don’t be mean, he’s a big love bug.”
The immense love bug meowed like he was agreeing with her and rubbed his face against her chest.
Fucker!
Doyle and I had reached some sort of stalemate with our relationship. After chewing through my sneakers, attacking my pants, attacking me while I was wearing my pants, and chewing my socks, I’d learned that treats and bones distracted him, so I made sure he didn’t run out.
At this moment, he was watching me as he crunched through his newest bone like he was proving how easy it’d be for his giant mouth to do the same thing to my leg.
Fucker number two!
Putting him back down again, she pointed at the second living room. “I’ve just finished doing the walls in there. I decided to do the blue border again, so I just need to leave it to dry. I thought it looked good in the living room, but it looks even better in that one because it’s bigger and has the massive fireplace.”
She looked so excited as she told me about it, and it lifted the mood that I’d brought home with me.
“Let me go and get changed out of this, and I’ll come check it out.”
I was leaving work in my uniform more often now because I was in a hurry to get home for once in my life, but that didn’t mean I wanted to stay in it any longer than I had to.
A quick wash-up and change into basketball shorts and a ratty t-shirt that I couldn’t bring myself to throw out, and I was back downstairs standing behind Bex as she bent down to paint a lower section of blue on the wall.
“The floor guy says we’ll have to stay somewhere else while he’s doing it. Apparently, sanding it down and the fumes from the varnish isn’t great to be around, plus it needs time to dry. It’ll only be for a couple of days once they’re done, but we’ll have to think of what to do with Prince and Doyle,” she muttered as she repeatedly rolled over one area, making it look worse than it had previously. “My parents have their cockatiel, Fingus, and yours have—"
“I think that spot’s done. You’re making it look tatty.”
Straightening up, she took a step back to look at it, accidentally bumping into me and knocking both of us off balance momentarily, until my arms around her waist managed to stabilize us.
Giving me a wry smile over her shoulder, she apologized. “I’m sorry. I think it’s fair to say that being an interior decorator isn’t in my future. To start with, I can never envision anything for the rooms. I prefer plain white walls with small accents to give the place character, and I’m shit at painting—”
“You’re not shit at it, you just had one patch that wasn’t taking the paint. If there’s any issues with it once it dries, we can go over it again and fix it.”
Biting down on her lip, she looked back at the spot in question and nodded. “Good plan.”
Then, taking a step away from me, she bent over again to inspect it more closely. This time my eyes went straight to her ass.
The cut-offs she was wearing were obviously from old sweats that’d been baggy on her. What made them really spectacular and added sexiness that had no business being added to them, was that just to the side of the seam that ran down her ass crack were holes.
Seeing as how I was now studying them, I counted five in total, ranging in size from a dime to a penny.
What was even more interesting was the fact that there was bare skin under them, not panties.
Was she wearing any?
Oh, shit, maybe she was wearing a thong?
I couldn’t tell you how long I stared at them, hoping she’d shift and I’d get an answer to my question, but I couldn’t look away from them.
Almost like I had no control, my hand reached out and skimmed over them, going from material to skin, over and over again.
“What are you doing?” she snickered, not getting up from her position. “That’s not helping with the painting.”
“Fuck the painting.”
With one tug, I had the back of them just under her ass and the answer to my question right in my face. A thong. A bright white lace thong.
The memory of how tight she was around the tip of my dick this morning came back to me, and I swear I could feel it right then. To be honest, it’d been going around my head all day, but now that she was right in front of me, I desperately wanted to finish what we’d started.
Not looking away from the thin string between her cheeks, I skimmed the tip of my forefinger down it, starting at the very top and ending just as the gusset of the panties began.
“So soft,” I murmured, tracing back up again. “So smooth.”
“Logan,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
This time, I pushed my fingers under the waistband and pulled the panties down to join her shorts under her butt, hearing
