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Nicole Kitt and her husband Miles Fallon needed an estimate on the house renovation. The contractor—Jake Switch—came by the next morning and strolled around like he owned the place. Everything he touched got an innuendo bolted on. “That load-bearing wall? We’ll need a stud.” Miles shot glares hot enough to melt drywall. Nicole kept her poker face and pocketed her giggles until they got two minutes alone in the kitchen. Miles hissed, “This guy’s staring at your ass every five seconds.” Nicole arched a brow. “He’s staring at your crotch every five seconds.” Miles opened his mouth, closed it, reopened it. She mimed the way Jake had measured a beam with both hands, thumbs brushing like it was a dick appraisal. Miles’s ears went pink. Nicole leaned in, voice syrup-sweet. “He wants to hammer something, all right. Your ass, probably.” Miles breathed a little harder. The idea wiggled in, got comfortable. Nicole shrugged. “Only one way to find out. We ask.” Ten minutes later Jake was sandwiched between the two of them on the sofa, tools on the floor, pants riding low, eyes bright. He already had Miles’s fly down and his own tongue in Nicole’s ear. Miles looked stunned, Nicole looked smug, and Jake, grinning, went straight to work.
Nicole Kitt and her husband Miles Fallon needed an estimate on the house renovation. The contractor—Jake Switch—came by the next morning and strolled around like he owned the place. Everything he touched got an innuendo bolted on. “That load-bearing wall? We’ll need a stud.” Miles shot glares hot enough to melt drywall. Nicole kept her poker face and pocketed her giggles until they got two minutes alone in the kitchen. Miles hissed, “This guy’s staring at your ass every five seconds.” Nicole arched a brow. “He’s staring at your crotch every five seconds.” Miles opened his mouth, closed it, reopened it. She mimed the way Jake had measured a beam with both hands, thumbs brushing like it was a dick appraisal. Miles’s ears went pink. Nicole leaned in, voice syrup-sweet. “He wants to hammer something, all right. Your ass, probably.” Miles breathed a little harder. The idea wiggled in, got comfortable. Nicole shrugged. “Only one way to find out. We ask.” Ten minutes later Jake was sandwiched between the two of them on the sofa, tools on the floor, pants riding low, eyes bright. He already had Miles’s fly down and his own tongue in Nicole’s ear. Miles looked stunned, Nicole looked smug, and Jake, grinning, went straight to work.