Well Hung Read Online Free Page A

ground with my bare hands.” Last finger. “And not only can I inhale habanero peppers, I can screw anything.”
    My jaw drops. I can’t even respond. I can’t even speak, and I don’t think she’s aware of the double entendre because she’s focused on darting her hands to my waist, and holy fuck, that’s a mighty nice spot for them. If she could move them just a bit lower, my fantasies might come true.
    Fine, I’ve dreamed of screwing her hard. Like that’s a fucking surprise.
    She unfastens my tool belt, slings it around her waist, tightens the buckle, and proceeds to look hot as fuck.
    Jeans. White blouse. My worn leather tool belt sitting low on her hips.
    For the rest of the day I will be working next to her.
    Please, please, please let the horny aliens inhabit the planet of another man’s mind today.

    * * *
    T emptation , thy name is Natalie.
    “Where’d you learn to play with tools like that?” I ask as we work side by side.
    She rolls her eyes at me then sticks out her tongue. It doesn’t have the intended effect. She looks cute. Just like when girls pull down their pants to moon you as some sort of insult. It’s not an insult. It’s a win. Not that any girls have done that lately. Come to think of it, no one’s mooned me in years. Would be nice if Natalie broke my un-mooned streak.
    “The same place you learned to play with dolls,” she tosses back.
    “Oh, shots fired,” I say.
    As she dips her hand into the tool belt for a screw, she says, “You think just because I’m a woman I’m not handy?”
    I scoff. “That’s the last thing you can pin on me, sweetheart,” I say, and then I stop. Sweetheart ? I don’t usually call her that. But, you know, it fits her.
    She aligns the screw into the wood then says, “For your information, I learned from my mom.”
    “Your mom, the surgeon?”
    “Yeah. Funny thing is, surgeons play with tools, too. Scalpels, scissors, even, get this”—she pauses, and her eyes glint with wicked playfulness—“drills.”
    I pretend to shudder. “Anyway, I’m impressed. I knew you could do the basics, but you’ve been keeping the extent of your handywoman skills a secret. Then again, you didn’t tell me for months you were a ninja.”
    She laughs. “Not a ninja. Just a black belt, third level. And besides, I’m not trying to pretend I’m a master carpenter like you. I can get by, but I can’t hammer like Wyatt Hammer. You’re a master at hammering, right?”
    I wiggle my eyebrows. “Like I had any other choice for a career.” I grab a drill bit from the toolbox on the floor. “Anyway, you cool with going to Vegas?”
    She nods. “Absolutely. I’ve never been. It sounds like fun,” she says, then quickly adds, “I mean, not that we’re going to sightsee. We have work to do.”
    “Hey, I’m sure we can find time to ride the rollercoaster or Ferris wheel or whatever you want. Play roulette, see a show. By the way, I meant it the other night when I said you deserve a raise. If this new job comes through, I’m giving you a ten percent pay increase.” I line up the cabinet door. She’s doing the same with the one next to me, when out of the corner of my eye I see the door start to slip.
    On a fast track for her face.
    In an instant, I’m behind her, my hands shooting out on each side of her, catching it before it swings wildly off the hinges.
    “I got it,” I say, gripping the cupboard door in place.
    “Shit. That almost whacked—”
    “Your head,” I say softly.
    She nods, her hair brushing against my cheek. That feels better than it should. Like, too good. “That would have sucked to have my face flattened by a cupboard,” she says, trying to make light of it, but she takes a deep breath, and her shaky voice gives her away.
    “But you’re okay,” I say, since now’s not the time for jokes.
    “Thanks to you. You moved fast.”
    “Didn’t want anything to happen to you.”
    My chest is sealed to her back. My crotch presses against