Hot Pickle - J.J. Knight Page 0,8

on half-mast, and the elastic band of this these tiny trunks is about to pull away from the very belly she’s working on.

“How’s it coming?” I ask, then wince at the word I’ve used. Coming. Really? Another rush of blood shifts from my brain to the parts of me I don’t need to be using right now.

“Almost there.” Camryn’s gaze lifts, and she’s so damn beautiful, and she’s in such a compromising position, that this is it. Full mast. I can feel the cool air hit the tip.

Oh, fuck.

I whip around to face away from her.

What do I say? Do?

My mind locks up.

“Max? You okay?”

Great. I have a name now. Now that my cock has come out to play. Did she see?

I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “I think I sweated. Can you check my back and see if I messed up your work?”

Hell, yes, I’m sweating. My hairline is drenched.

“Seems okay,” Camryn says. “And I need to finish that patch in front.”

She hasn’t seen. She doesn’t know.

My only goal, the only thing in the whole damn world I care about, is getting this dick in place before I turn around. I have to stall.

“Uh, what about the back of my neck?”

I frantically try to shove my dick back in the shorts. Stop this, I warn it, and feel lightheaded when it springs right back out. Oh my God. How do I make it stop?

“It seems fine. Max, are you sure you’re okay?” Camryn tries to move around front, but I turn with her, keeping myself carefully out of view. Except now, of course, I’m facing the door.

“I’m fine. Just nervous. I’m sure my abs are fine.” Sweat pours from my hairline. A trickle runs down my back.

A man enters the room, making Camryn’s head turn. I take the moment to snatch my jacket from the floor to cover my stupid turgid junk. Why now? Damn it! Fuck!

“Male heavyweights on deck,” he says. “Head to the staging area.”

“That’s me,” I say. “Can you send me a bill?”

Camryn grabs my arm and forces me to turn. I pin the jacket to my belly with my arm. I’m not going to let her take a single peek.

“What the hell is going on, Max?” She glares at me, and entire constellations shoot out of her eyes like an angry ambush of stars.

“Just nerves. You’ll bill me?” I try to sidestep away from her, but she easily moves in my way.

“That’s it? Bill me? When I saved your damn bacon?” She snatches at the jacket. “What are you doing touching this to your skin? That oil is too fresh to—”

She stops talking abruptly. “Oh!”

I glance down.

And yeah. That’s it.

All the goods.

Standing straight at attention.

And my best friend’s sister saw every damn inch.

4

Camryn

Well, that’s impressive.

I can’t drag my eyes away from Max’s rather exuberant body part.

I’ve seen my fair share of male junk, both in my business, and outside of it.

But this one has my attention.

Long. Thick. A beautiful blue vein pulses along one side.

It’s like it’s happy to see me.

But, it’s not for me.

He’s a client.

And a friend of my brother’s.

And a total stranger.

I take a few steps back. This boy needs some space.

He smacks the jacket in front of his crotch again, and I wince at what the pressure of the fabric is surely doing to his newly oiled belly.

The runner has left and the room is empty, so I close the door and twist the lock.

Max turns to the back wall, staring up and out the high windows, possibly wishing he could fly out of one right now.

I find some words. “So, Dahlia got to you after all. You wouldn’t be the first.”

Max grunts. “Hardly.”

“Not Dahlia?”

No answer.

Wait.

Is he saying I caused this?

It’s not like a man has never had a reaction before. You get all up close and personal with people’s skin, and things can happen.

But nobody’s ever flown out of their trunks.

I’m not sure how to help, but I say, “You’ll be fine before you go on stage. The nerves will draw the —”

“I know.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

His body is held so stiffly he could be made of granite.

Stiffly.

I swallow my giggle.

To be honest, I’d take a Max statue in my living room. Especially in his current...er...state. My mind quickly drifts to an image of that, and then I have to push the thought away. The man is in distress.

I need to focus.

“I could talk about fire ants. Spoiled eggs. Bathtub mildew.”

He groans.

“I’ve got plenty