Drool Worthy

Sawyer

I’m at my club trying to go over the financials, but all I can concentrate on is Storm Diesel Benson. The way his gray mesh shorts barely cover the impressive length within. I made him hard.

When I got out of the shower, he wore a navy three-piece suit. No bulge was in his slacks as he was leaning against the door, guarding mine with his arm crossed over a muscular chest and one foot resting against the door. Storm’s black hair was braided down his back. His thick, long black eyelashes make his eyes black as night. His high cheekbones and square angular jaws are part of his Native American Heritage. He is gorgeous to behold.

He had a tattoo on his right pectoral of a wolf howling. That continued down his upper arm to a forest scene, with a dark-haired woman kneeling amongst a black wolf, two gray wolves, and a solid white wolf. The woman appeared familiar to me, but I didn’t get the best look. There was another tattoo below it that enc