Home > THAT MAN 8 (That Man #8)(8)

THAT MAN 8 (That Man #8)(8)
Author: Nelle L'Amour

“And look what else I found online!” Excitement filled her voice and her face lit up as she flipped her computer around to face me.

“A SpongeBob doggie raincoat with a matching leash and collar! And even booties!!”

“Nice,” I mumbled, staring at a shaggy dog that was dressed in the ridiculous bright-yellow ensemble. My wife was SpongeBob obsessed.

“I hope you don’t mind that I ordered the whole set. From Chewy.com. It’s such a great site.” She cradled Scout’s muzzle. “Oh baby boy, you’re going to look so cute in your rain outfit!”

Yeah, and I just can’t wait to walk you in the pouring rain and chase after you in the bloody mud. My tiger was too focused on Scout to notice the scowl on my face. I chugged the rest of my drink. Two down. I’d better stop before I got smashed.

“So, birthday girl, what do you want to do this afternoon?” We had plans to go out for dinner to celebrate with her best friends, Libby, Chaz, and Jeffrey, but I was hoping we could get a nice birthday fuck in before then. In addition to the bauble, I’d bought my tiger a new sex toy and I was eager to play with it.

“I think we should stay in and hang out with Scout. We can start teaching him some basic commands. You know like . . . sit, stay, and come.”

The only living creature I wanted to order to come was my wife. That clearly wasn’t happening. Damn this dog!

I mentally growled.

 

 

Chapter 10

 

 

Jennifer


“Blake, maybe we should cancel the dinner,” I said as I shrugged on my slinky black dress. It was one of Chaz’s designer samples—something he bestowed upon me often. “We can do it another time. I’m worried about leaving Scout alone on his first night here.”

My husband was sitting on the edge of the bed, slipping on his Italian leather loafers. Sockless as usual. He looked sexy as sin in his casually elegant Brioni sports coat, crisp, open-collar white shirt, and a pair of ridiculously expensive designer jeans.

“Jen, baby, relax. He’s going to be fine. He’s done well so far. I think he likes it here.”

I reflected on his words. They seemed rushed. Like he was eager to leave. Yet truthfully, Scout had done well. He had mastered a few commands—well at least, when I said them—and he was happy with all his toys. Right now as we got ready for my birthday celebration, he was resting in the living room on the large pillow we’d bought him, after having eaten his dinner and taken an evening walk. He seemed worn out from today’s events. I couldn’t blame him; so many adjustments! The poor baby!

“Blake, are you sure?” Uncertainty laced my voice.

“One hundred percent positive.” My husband stood up as I struggled with the back zipper of my dress. “Let me help you.”

As I studied myself in our full-length armoire mirror, I could see him swagger up to me. His eyes hooded, that cocky smirk curled on his gorgeous face.

A few heartbeats later, he was perched right behind me and I watched as he wrapped his arms around my waist and blew a hot breath on the back of my neck. I was wearing my contact lenses though Blake preferred me to wear my tortoiseshell eyeglasses, no matter what the occasion. They turned him on. He kissed me again.

“How do I look?” I managed as he fluttered butterfly kisses across my shoulders.

“Mmm. Very fuckable.”

The hairs on the nape of my neck stood up and goosebumps popped along my bare arms. A blissful moan escaped as his warm hands sailed down my spine and reached my bottom. He squeezed my cheeks in his palms, his hard length pressed against me.

“God, baby! I so want to fuck you. Any way I can.”

Then I let out a yelp as he slid a finger into my freshly showered backdoor entrance. His long, deft finger began to pump into me. Driving me to ecstasy.

My back arched and I met his finger thrusts, squeezing my muscles around his digit, longing to come. The thrusts came harder and faster, and I felt myself fall apart. And sag against him.

“Happy Birthday, tiger,” Blake breathed into my ear as he withdrew his finger and slowly slid up the zipper. The metallic hiss sent another round of goosebumps to my skin. After another kiss on my neck, he took my hand. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Wait one sec,” I said as Blake led me into the living room. He shot me a puzzled look as I broke free of his grip.

Balancing on my heels, I bent down and kissed Scout who was curled up sound asleep. “Don’t worry, baby boy, we’ll be back soon! Be a good boy for Mommy and Daddy.”

 

CATCH was one of the hottest restaurants in LA. It took months to get a reservation there, but Chaz and his fiancé Jeffrey with all their connections had managed to score one. We were seated at a prime table in the breathtaking main dining room, feasting on jumbo shrimp and truffle sashimi and drinking Dom Pérignon. I hadn’t seen them—or Chaz’s twin sister Libby, my BFF—since our weeklong trip to Scotland. The conversation was lively, with my two dear gay friends wanting to know everything.

I zipped out my cell phone from my purse and showed them photos of our trip. Many of them were of Blake and me wearing our matching kilts.

“Oooh, Blakey, you look so cute in a skirt!” cooed Chaz.

“Nice legs,” added Libby with a snicker.

“What did you wear underneath?” asked Jeffrey.

My husband blushed with embarrassment. The truth is, he went commando! And we fucked like Scottish bunnies. Sparing him from responding, I reached under the table and retrieved three small shopping bags.

“We brought you guys back presents.” I handed each of my friends a bag and they simultaneously reached inside them. Whoots and thank yous all around. Each of them had gotten a beautiful tartan wool scarf, which we’d purchased at a charming shop in Edinburgh. While they likely wouldn’t get much use in Los Angeles, my trio of friends traveled regularly for business to colder climates throughout the year. And would appreciate them.

“So, what did Blake get you for your birthday?” asked a tipsy Libby, with her scarf draped around her neck and guzzling her second glass of champagne. Libby had a tendency to drink a lot and become loose-lipped.

“This!” Picking up my phone again, I scrolled through my photos until an adorable picture of Scout popped onto the screen. I’d taken a ton of photos of him in the afternoon, including selfies of the two of us, after he’d mastered the sit and stay commands. I handed the phone to Libby, who shared it with Chaz and Jeffrey, seated on either side of her. As they scrolled through the pics, they squealed, their rapid-fire comments overlapping.

“Oh my God! You got a dog!”

“He’s so cute!”

“Where did you get him?”

“The West LA Animal Shelter.”

“What’s his name?”

“Scout.”

“Like in Boy Scout?” asked Libby.

“Yes!” I winked at my husband. “Now, I have a real Boy Scout, right Blake?”

“Yeah, right.” His voice flat, my husband did not seem amused by my little pun. He constantly told me he had once been a Boy Scout. Scout’s honor. But he could never prove it and hence I didn’t believe him.

A waiter came by and took our entrée orders. And not before long, we were feasting on a spread of delicious small-plated main dishes, ranging from Maryland crab cakes to New Zealand green mussels, plus a whole, grilled wild-caught branzino that we shared. Libby took it upon herself to order a second bottle of champagne, followed by a third one, and we all indulged. As to be expected, Chaz insisted we play a game. It was our ritual.

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