grab the flashlight she’s looking for, but I don’t move because I’m curious to see what she’s going to do. I can assume she’s pretty aware that my dick is pressed against her stomach, but strangely she hasn’t moved away from it. I hear her wrestling around with the junk in the drawer followed by a click of a button and a light shining into my face. “Do you have a license to carry that thing?” she asks.
Her question, honest to God, takes my breath away. I cannot for one second believe that sweet, innocent Sasha just asked me that very question, something I would definitely ask if I were in her situation. “I do have a license to carry my dick, actually. Didn’t know they handed those out, did you?”
“Can’t say I did,” she says weakly. I’m taking this girl’s breath away.
“Yeah, they only hand them out to the gifted and talented,” I continue.
Another breath goes missing.
“Gifted and talented?” she asks through laughter.
“Well, one must be gifted and talented to lift heavy machinery and also know how to use it properly.” That did it. Sasha has created an abundance of space between us.
“You’re not really sorry for attempting to send me a picture of your…”
“Dick?” I laugh. “No, I’m not really sorry for showing off my biggest and best asset.”
“I think you’re just being cocky,” she tells me.
“Cocky?” I argue, chuckling, as I lean up against the counter behind me.
“Did you put a filter on your picture? I mean, I have always heard that things appear larger on screen.” Is she really asking me these questions? Because this is fucking awesome.
“I should have hash-tagged the image with #nofilter. Would you have believed me then?”
“There’s no way,” she continues arguing. Is she looking for me to prove it to her?
“How many dicks have you seen, Miss Sasha?”
She may be holding the flashlight up to my chest, but the glow allows me to see her eyes clenched shut. “That’s none of your business,” she snaps.
“And the girth of my dick is none of your business, but yet, you’re questioning my honesty about it.” She can’t argue with that.
Her eyes open and I don’t think she knows I can see her face right now, but she’s looking down at the crotch of my pants. “I can see where you’re looking.” Her gaze shoots up to my face, obviously embarrassed to be caught staring. “Do you want to touch it?” I ask. “It’s the only way I can prove myself to you.” Laughter rumbles through me, knowing she’s likely going to freak out in less than a second.
“No!” she snaps. “I don’t want to touch your…”
“Just say-y-y-y-y it,” I tell her.
“No.”
“I bet Landon was the size of a string bean. Am I right?” I keep pushing forward, waiting for her to totally snap. I shouldn’t get pleasure from the thought of her squirming in her pants, but I do.
“Landon’s penis is none of your business, either.”
“Wow, you said penis. I have to say, I’m kind of impressed,” I tell her. “It was small, though, wasn’t it?” After a few long seconds of silence, I reach behind me, grabbing the refreshed glass of Jack I had been sipping and hand it to her. “Here, you need this.”
“I don’t drink whisky,” she says.
“You don’t appreciate big dicks either. Do you know why?” I love that she hasn’t slapped me and walked away by this point. I am pretty sure she won’t give me an answer, though. “It’s because you haven’t tried either, isn’t it?”
Still no answer. I press the ice-cold glass up to her chest, and she recoils from the iciness. “Try it.”
Her eyes are locked on mine with either confusion, question, or maybe she’s just trying to figure me out. I’m not sure which it is, but there is a determination of some sort swimming in her blue eyes. Her nose flares a little—pretty much the cutest thing I’ve ever seen—and she snatches the glass from my hand, placing the rim up to her plump lips. I’m not sure she’ll actually go through with this but somewhere inside of my fucked up head, I believe if she tries the whisky, she’ll try something else she hasn’t tried before too. She’s had the glass between her lips for way too long and it’s given her a chance to inhale the strong scent—that alone could make someone not want to try it.
An arch of her brow hints at a side of her I hadn’t expected to