Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Chapter 11
Nolan
Fuck Monday mornings.
I swear to God they come too fast.
It’s impossible not to smirk over a new thought as I exit my bathroom.
Guess the same shit could be said about me last night.
But unlike Monday, which I expect to arrive after Sunday, I didn’t predict The Kid would physically prove his point.
That he’d put our girl on her knees.
Make her suck his cock while I watched.
Bust a nut in her mouth and then demand I lick the shit off her tongue.
The fact I came in my work pants during that kiss should’ve been fucking embarrassing.
Hell, the fact I was so desperate to taste another man’s cum the way I was should’ve been shameful shit.
Like never tell another living soul I have those feelings level of shameful shit.
But fuck me…I’d never wanted anything in my mouth that bad in my whole entire life.
And the worst part is none of it felt wrong to me.
Not letting him have control.
Not letting him keep control when he instructed Bunny to crawl on my lap and give me a proper welcome home after a hard day.
Not even blowing my load when he pulled her hair as he called me Sir.
No.
All of that shit felt right.
Like the epitome of right.
And that – ironically – feels wrong.
Because this shit should be wrong.
I’ve got more than a fucking decade on him in age and experience, not to mention fucking common sense.
It’s my job…my responsibility to help care for him.
Not come for him.
I need to get my shit together.
I need to get our lives back on track.
Restore order.
And stability.
And sanity.
Stop all this shit before it spirals out of control.
Uh…more out of control.
Flings are fun…can be fun…should be fun…but it needs to stop here.
Now.
…Right?
Entering our small kitchen occurs in tandem with Kipp doing the same.
Under normal circumstances watching him put on his dark gray mechanic shirt post a shower wouldn’t be something that happened yet at this moment? At this very fucking moment? It’s the only thing I seem capable of fucking doing. While the fitted fabric does a dick rising job of clinging to his wet muscles, it’s gawking at the water droplets themselves that are tumbling downward, outlining his pecks and abs and every sharp curve a guy his age is proud to have that has my cock kicking for his touch.
You know I used to have all that shirtless in a shitty movie shit too.
I mean…I still do.
To an extent.
It’s there…it’s just not there like it used to be.
Hm.
Maybe I should hit the weights a little harder this week.
Give The Kid a little more to look at if we keep this going.
Fuck…can we really keep this shit going?
Is it the best idea?
Honestly…it isn’t the worst idea and that’s saying something.
But what happens when Bunny is ready to hop along to her next adventure?
Fuck the next pair of saps who couldn’t resist helping a hot girl with what I just assume are daddy issues and car trouble?
Do we…just…find another chick to fill her place?
Is there even another chick that could?
And why the fuck do I have this pinched nerve nagging that tells me that’s not only not happening but impossible because she is it for us?
The only one.
Our one and only.
Fuck, I need a drink.
“Mornin’,” The Kid greets just above a whisper, aiming not to wake up the sleeping beauty still nakedly sprawled out on the living room floor.
Also, his decision.
Apparently, he didn’t appreciate the first slumber party in the apartment excluding his ass, so he commanded we all crash on the floor together instead. I objected and bitched and groaned; however, truth be told, that shit did wonders for my back although listening to him claim we need to go bed shopping for one that fits all three of us did not do wonders for my sleep.
I mean…seriously.
Talking about that type of shit is a bit much after one weekend, isn’t it?
“Not gonna say it back, old man?” Kipp playfully pokes while reaching for one of the mugs near the machine. “Blow out more than just your sack last night?”
“Less yap, more caff, Kid,” I taunt in return, stare doing its best not to admire how snug his jeans currently are.
They didn’t used to be.
What’s he been doing?
Shrinking that shit to impress our temporary houseguest?
Me?
Small chortles precede him filling the cup, adding sugar, stirring, and sauntering over. Upon his arrival, he slowly extends the offering out to me. “Where ya headed?”
“Farthest edges of Spike Village.” Our fingers briefly brush, and it takes every bone in my body to swallow the groan it conjures. “Just outside my usual limits.”
Confusion causes his face to twitch. “Why are you going if it’s out of your limits?” Concern claws its way into his crystal gaze. “You uh…You need the work that bad? Was the weekend really that slow?”
Fuck. Me. I can’t stand to see him worried whether it’s about money or food or females or…evidently…his own goddamn feelings.