Chapter 24
J.T. reached out one furry arm, grabbing for John’s zipper.
“Don’t you ever get enough?” I growled, slapping the fuzzy ass in front of me. The kid shook his head, pushing that ass off the counter again, grinding against my hand.
“Well,” John said, unzipping his pants, “you can come up for air with mine, son. I’d feel bad if you passed out in the middle of our reward.”
J.T. nodded, his lips parting eagerly. John rolled a Bettencourt’s Best over his rod and J.T. dove on it as if he were an addict in withdrawal. I shook my head—the kid ought to be paying me instead of the other way around.