Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“Yep. Flattery’s not getting your dick sucked. This time.” Because it did usually work. Pyro was only human.
Clover’s mouth twisted, and he pushed back his pale hair. “It was worth a shot.”
They didn’t take long after that, and they walked back into the dining room with Clover hiding his erection from Jolene behind the drinks cart.
“What took you boys so long?” she asked, pointing at a dish full of white sauce and dusted with fried onions. “My famous seafood casserole’s going to get cold.”
“I’m very sorry Jolene, but Clover couldn’t find the last ingredient he wanted in his cocktail. And once we got it, he wouldn’t give it a rest until he made you the perfect glass of Dr. Pepper Bourbon.”
Clover gave a nervous smile and put the glass in front of Jolene, but quickly scrambled away from sight, crotch hidden under the table. God, did Pyro love causing mayhem.
Jolene’s face radiated contentment as she took the first sip of her cocktail. “It is perfect, Clover. Thank you! You may not cook, but I’m sure Adam will never complain about your bartending skills.”
Tank gave her an uncomfortable smile but relaxed when Clover sat down next to him. Jolene, though, wasn’t done yet. “I was just telling them how Adam damaged his only running shoes at seven and wouldn’t stop crying until I mended them. And look at him now. He’s made it big, and he is helping out his grandma,” she said, pointing to her loud decor with obvious pride. “Too bad he doesn’t stop by more often.”
Clover’s shoulders hunched when Tank wordlessly took his plate and put some of the casserole in the middle before adding side dishes. But Clover’s appetite didn’t lie in the food. His cheeks looked as if they’d been pinched when he met Pyro’s gaze and lifted the glass to his mouth.
Go on, boy. Drink it next to grandma.
Pyro couldn’t take his eyes off the slutty lips touching the glass, feeling a jolt go down his spine when Clover took a sip of the creamy drink that filled the glass as if it were full of Pyro’s cum.
“Nevada’s far away,” Tank said.
“Excuses,” she scoffed, but glanced at Clover with fondness.
Pyro couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed his phone under the table and texted Boar when Jolene decided to pull out an album with old photos.
[Clover’s drinking my cum.]
As soon as he read the text, Boar’s eyes widened in that adorable way that made Pyro want to kiss him right then and there, by Jolene’s table.
You did not, Boar mouthed, but a smile was tugging on his lips as he glanced toward the boy, who smacked his lips after taking yet another sip. Arousal hit Pyro so hard he put his hand on Boar’s thigh and squeezed it, but they could hardly run off for a quickie in the middle of dinner. Not when Jolene was intent on showing them everything Tank had been up to as a baby.
Her attentive eyes strayed to Clover at the sound he made. “Are you enjoying your cocktail?”
“Y-yes, it’s very nice, thank you,” Clover said, meeting Pyro’s gaze over the table.
Tank managed to smile and reached for the glass, making the food consumed earlier rise in Pyro’s throat with the gesture. Tank drinking his cum? Eww.
“Can I try it?”
But Clover took the drink away from him, masking his nervousness with a laugh. “Oh no, I like it too much. You have to get your own.”
“Clover’s taste is very particular,” Pyro added. “Likes his drinks extra creamy. It’s why it took so long.”
Tank stilled, and the mortified face he made could’ve turned some people into stone. But it didn’t affect Pyro, who raised his glass in a toast.
He loved fucking with people.
The casserole was edible, though only just, but the dessert salad consisting of cut-up Snickers bars, peanut butter, green apples, and Cool Whip was the shit, and Pyro wolfed down two oversized servings of it. By the time Pyro’s stomach was full, he didn’t even have the strength to laugh at Tank’s misery anymore, but the constant chatting about family matters led to questions aimed at everyone. So he distracted himself by pouring more and more alcohol down his throat.
No, he did not have any baby photos of himself. Neither did his mother. They all died, Jolene. They were dead to him.
He hated the fact that it still bothered him, and even seeing Clover’s empty glass couldn’t cheer him up anymore.
Boar gently squeezed Pyro’s shoulder before he could pour himself another drink. “Wanna go smoke? May we smoke in the garden, Jolene?”
She livened up and dropped the photos she was holding into the biscuit tin, which served as her album. “Once you’re done, come to the aviary. I want to introduce you to all my birds.”
“Sure,” Pyro said, forcing a smile, but his head spun when he rose from the chair.