Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Kit pondered that and got down on his knees before me, and then he nodded firmly. “That makes sense. Macklin did tell me it was always best to go slow.”
Macklin was right, of course.
“But I don’t know that we need this written in stone or anything,” he added. “I’m not interested in anybody else.”
That may be, but it was always best to have an official agreement, which I explained to him.
“Okay, fiiine. No more talking now, Daddy.” Boy got a little huffy. “I mean, except for comfort stuff. That’s my favorite.”
I snorted and grabbed his no-tears shampoo. Fair enough. “Only comfort stuff,” I confirmed. “I don’t think Daddy can get hard yet, though. I’m still beat after Macklin.”
“Mmm, I wish I could’ve seen more than his head going up and down…” He plastered himself to me and sucked softly on the head of my cock. “You and Daddy have the best cocks in the whole world.”
I grinned faintly and started massaging the shampoo into his hair.
“I like the idea of Macklin being my kink brother,” he admitted in between kisses to my cock. “Cuz then I can say that my brother sucked on Daddy’s cock before I did.”
Christ. That sure sent desire through me, in a thick, sluggish wave.
“Maybe you and your brother can suck on it together sometime,” I murmured.
“I would love that.” He shivered and closed his eyes, humming at the pleasure of having my fingers in his hair. I rubbed his scalp too, the way he loved it. “I’m so happy, Daddy.”
My turn to shiver. Hearing him say that meant everything to me. “That’s our goal in life, little darlin’. For Luke and me to always make sure you’re happy.”
“Mmm, my goal for my Daddies too…” He flicked his tongue against the slit of my cock before he tilted his head up in silent permission. Silent request.
He wanted to be covered in Daddy.
I took a deep breath and lowered the water pressure just a bit. Then I gripped my cock and let go, directing the stream across his shoulder. His neck. Chest. And his other shoulder. Across every tattoo that covered the skin on his upper body.
He smiled serenely, keeping his eyes closed.
“That’s a good boy.” I touched his cheek lovingly, the water slowly washing away the shampoo suds. “Daddy and I meant to tell you—you’ve been amazin’ all day. Not a single hissy fit.”
He grinned goofily. “I never do that.”
I exhaled a chuckle and groaned a little too, ’cause it felt so damn good to relax. “Daddy’s all done now, baby. Let’s clean off.”
He snickered behind his hand, then squinted up at me. “Remember the time you called me your little piss baby?”
I laughed and hauled him off the floor. “I remember how squirmy and horny you got. You were like, oh my gosh, Daddy, can you breed me right fuckin’ now?”
He laughed too and shook his head quickly. “I didn’t use those words!”
Eh, close enough.
The humor faded as we cuddled up under the hot water and washed each other. Like all the other times we’d showered together recently, he said he wanted my chest hair to grow back quicker, because chest hair produced more suds with the body wash. And I told him, not for the first time, to let that be a lesson. Don’t fuckin’ tell Daddy to shave again, not even for a photo shoot.
“Yeah, I know,” he sighed heavily. “I can’t always be a genius.”
Hoo boy, he was taking after the fighter pilot there a bit. No wonder Luke called him Mini Colt sometimes.
“I think I need to start callin’ you li’l junior,” I chuckled.
Judging by how Kit’s eyes lit up, he was a fan.
About ten minutes later, we’d toweled off and put on our comfy clothes again, and Kit jumped up on my back before we headed down the stairs.
He wasn’t tired enough, so the movie night was happening.
Kit peppered my neck with smooches. “We’re going to Florida soon,” he sang. “But first, Christmas!”
“That’s right. We still have to find some more stocking stuffers for Luke.”
“How about tomorrow after my lunch with Vincent?” he suggested.
“Did you text him already?”
“Yes, we’re going to the Italian place next to the ice cream shop I really love. What’s it called again?”
Considering he loved all the ice cream places in DC, I had no damn clue.
And it didn’t matter; it was a good plan. But also, Jesus Christ, Luke and Macklin had been busy. The living room was spotless. Two black trash bags stood in the entryway doorway, both presumably filled with gift wrapping.
“Hellooo, anybody here?” Kit slid down and landed on his feet, and I peered into the kitchen.
Empty—wait. There was a note attached to a tall stack of dirty plates.
We’re in the backyard.
-L
Huh. “Kit, grab your coat and boots. Mittens and beanie too.”
We went out into the entryway and bundled up good and proper, and then we grabbed our boots and walked back through the living room and dining room. And the first thing I saw through the patio door was the grill. It had to be Greer who’d started a fire. Sure as heck wasn’t my city boy.