Page 40 of Property of Shotgun
Shotgun: No.
I laugh.
Me: Very funny.
Shotgun: Thought you’d be conked out.
Me: I just got out of the shower.
Shotgun: Shame.
Me:??
Shotgun: Liked the thought of you going to bed with my cum on you.
I groan already feeling myself getting wet. Pressing my thighs together, I roll onto my side. If I was texting with another man I would probably over obsess over my response, trying to make it sound clever, and just as equally sexy for him. But this is Shotgun. I’m comfortable enough to just type the first thing that comes to my mind.
Me: Only way to fix that is if you cum on me again.
I hit the plus sign on the screen and pull up my camera app, turning it onto selfie mode. I’ve sent him selfies of me and the kids throughout the day, especially in those first few weeks of bringing Killian home from the hospital. But I never sent him one with my tits hanging out of my robe. I push them together, and maneuver the phone, trying to get the most flattering angle. Then I stop myself. Shotgun won’t care if one tit looks slightly bigger than the other, or if a sliver of my loose belly makes it into the picture.
I snap the photo and send it.
Shotgun: Love your tits, mama.
I was never a fan of nicknames. On occasion Irish would call me babe, but it didn’t have the same effect. When Shotgun calls me mama, I feel that right between my legs.
Me: Then come up here and play with them. I’m on the couch.
Shotgun: Tempting but I don’t need the boys waking up and catching me with their mom. Been beating myself up since I walked in the apartment. We were not quiet, Jade. Legend or Raiden could’ve woken up and seen everything.
Always thinking of my boys.
Me: But they didn’t.
Shotgun: We gotta be more careful.
Me: Does that mean there’s going to be a next time?
His response doesn’t come as quickly as the others, and that worries me. He still carries so much guilt, I don’t want to add to that.
Shotgun: Unlock the sliders.
I toss the phone onto the couch in a hurry, and scramble to my feet. I stop short when I reach the sliders, and stare at him through the glass. I’ve seen him without a shirt a bunch of times, and I’ve admired all the beautiful tattoos that decorate his skin. But I’ve never taken the time to appreciate all the dips and valleys, or the dusting of hair that trails from his belly button and disappears beneath his unzipped jeans. He’s a work of art that I can’t wait to explore with my tongue.
Snapping out of it, I unlock the door and slide it open. Our eyes lock for a moment, then he steps to me, reaching for my face, and slams his mouth against mine. I push up on my toes, winding my arms around his waist as my lips part and his tongue pushes into my mouth. He kisses me just as frantic, just as thoroughly as he licked and sucked on my pussy an hour ago, and it makes me throb.
“Fuck,” he rasps against my mouth. “I can’t get enough of you.”
He lowers his hand, hiking my thigh around his waist as he pushes into the kitchen. Neither of us bother to shut the door as he walks me to the table and hauls me on top of it. His mouth leaves mine, and he buries his face in the crook of my neck, sucking and kissing his way down to where my robe parts.
I brace my hands on the edge of the table and wrap my legs around his waist as his fingers fumble with the knot on my robe. Once he untangles it, his head pops up and he pushes the silk from my shoulders. His eyes slowly rake over my body, like he’s just seeing it for the first time all over again.
Words are nice, but seeing a man slowly lose control as he looks at you as if you’re his last meal, is unmatched. I feel alive for the first time in years, and I want to bottle this moment so I can relive it over and over.
His eyes cut back to mine as he unzips his jeans.
“Can you be quiet?”
