Page 6 of Who Wants Pie

“Gray?” she seems just as confused as I am when she finally does wake up. “What…what’s going on?”

I think very hard about what I am going to tell her, how I am going to say what needs to be said, “I'm not sure, baby, but I think we might be in some trouble.”

The last thing I want is to freak her out or cause her to worry. Overly much anyways. “Trouble?”

“Yeah. Trouble.”

I may not be sure where we are, but I do know waking up to have Tinsley on top of me is how I want to start every morning and after I find out what is going on, I plan to work on making that my new life goal. I just have to get Tinsley on board with what is happening.

Chapter Six

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Tinsley

One of the first thoughts that go through my head is that I have a man between my legs. And the tip of his dick out of the boxers he’s got on. And I’m soaked.

“Oh shit!” My mind is still foggy and things aren’t making any sense, but some part of me is telling me to run. To get the fuck up and run! Because none of this is how things are supposed to be.

He stops me before I can even lift myself off him. “Don’t…,”

I do what he says when he uses that tone of voice on me. It’s like a Daddy voice that demands attention and submission.

“I’m not sure what is going on but I do know we have to…fix some things before we jump up.”

Things? Like his cock playing peek-a-boo. But when he starts to ‘fix’ things, his hands go to my bra, making me realize my boobs are all but falling out. He doesn’t ask for permission or hesitate to push them back in the cups of my bra. It’s only after they are back inside the lace that he reaches down between the two of us and rearranges his cock so that it's no longer sticking out the top of his waistband.

When he does, the back of his hand brushes against the soft skin of my bare thighs and causes me to gasp out. This is all new - the fact a man is between my legs, that I have to spread them farther than I ever have before to accommodate him, the touch of a work-roughened hand against me - all go a long way to throw me off balance.

He sits us both up but keeps his hands on me, holding my ass so that I don’t just jump up. I’m so afraid of what is going on that I let him. I feel weirdly better that he is touching me - having his skin touch mine - that I don’t even think about moving away from him.

“Where are we?”

He looks around before answering, “I'm not sure. I…,” he stops. “What’s the last thing you can remember?”

“I…I don’t know.” I start to answer him, but have to stop. I’m not sure what the last thing I did was. Which scares the hell out of me more than a little bit. “I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember, Gray?”

He shakes his head indicating he doesn’t understand why either of us can’t remember either. “Could it be my mom? Maybe she…asked some of the guys at the station to help her…,”

“Wait, one of the guys came in and handed me something.” He interrupts me but I can tell it’s for a good reason. I can tell he’s trying to recall something, “It was a small box wrapped in paper and tied with a ribbon. My name was scrawled on the front of it.”

“I don’t really want to know about your…women giving you things. Why would you even mention that now?”

“Other women? There are no other women.” He looks at me like I have lost my god-damned mind.

“The guys have told me what an absolute horndog you are. You don’t have to pretend you're not.” I don’t want to mention that one time I went to the station and found out how he spends his downtime.

“I’m not a horndog. What are you even talking about?”

I break and pull myself from his arms. I don’t mind finding a little sympathetic comfort with him, but I can’t stomach him lying to me. “The guys told me you spend all of your weekends at the topless bar picking up women.”

“Damn it.” He pushes himself up too until we are both standing.

“So it is true.” The way he says it tells me it is but damn, having him admit it out loud is just a soul killer. I guess some secret part of me was holding out hope that it wasn’t true. That it was all gossip or guy talk that wasn’t really true.

“I…Son of a bitch. Who told you?”

“What does it matter? It’s true. And now you’re trying to brag about getting gifts from them. Why? Why would you say anything about it?”

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