Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“Jesus. You should have said something. You’re always there for me. Let me be there for you too.” He stands and walks over to me. I pull Evan to my lap, wrapping his arms around me. “Whatever you do, you know I’ll support you. If you don’t want to read it, I’ll support you. If you want me to read it, I can do that. Whatever you need.”
“This helps,” I reply, running my hands up and down his back before cupping his ass. “I love that I can do this any time I want now.” I lean in, lick his collarbone. “And this.”
“You’re trying to distract me,” Evan replies.
“Is it working?” I ask against his skin.
“No.” He cups my face, so I have to look at him.
“Talk to me.”
“I don’t know what to say, Pup. He wrote. I hate him. I don’t know what to do and by not knowing, I worry I’m going to do the wrong thing. I’m afraid of somehow letting my mom down. I did as a kid, and I don’t want to do it again.” Sighing, I continue, “She’s forgiven him. She thinks it’s smart, healthy, but I can’t do it and I know that disappoints her.” Mom’s always said she thinks I need to make my peace with him, that I’ll regret it one day if I don’t. She would never push a relationship with him, but she thinks I need to find my closure with him.
“You didn’t let her down. How could you? You were a child. You saved her.”
“I should have done it sooner.” I shrug.
“You were a child,” he reiterates his point. “He was your dad. You saved her. She’s here because of you. There’s no way you could let her down. We can’t all forgive, and that’s okay. She knows that.”
But I could let her down. I know she’d always love me and support me, but I know I could let her down. She’s so damn good. She’s the kind of person who would forgive him. Who would reply to him. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I want to play with my pup.”
“We don’t have to do that tonight. I’m sure that’s not what’s on your mind.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? It’s exactly what I need. I don’t want to think about him. This pup thing helps you deal with shit and it helps me too. There’s nothing I want more right now than to play with you.”
“Woof!” he barks out, making me smile.
“There’s my pup. Why don’t you go get ready for me?”
“Okay,” he replies and then licks my neck.
“Someone’s feeling naughty. I’m going to take a quick shower. Do me a favor? Will you wear your harness for me? And a jock?”
He sits back so I can see him, fire in his eyes. Fuck yes, Evan wants this as much as I do.
“Okay.”
“Good boy.” I rub his neck. “Meet me in the living room when you’re done.”
Evan nods and climbs off my lap. I’m practically fucking skipping to my damn room; I’m so excited for what’s to come. Thoughts of my mom, the sperm donor, and anything else are forgotten. I know they’ll be there when I’m done, but this evening is about me and Pup Runt.
I take a quick shower, wash off, and then pull on a pair of underwear and basketball shorts, making sure I have a baggie of Reese’s Pieces, a condom, and lube in my pocket. Afterward, I head to my closet where I put a few of the things I’m hoping to use with my pup tonight into a bag.
He’s still not in the living room when I get there, making me wonder what all he’s doing to get ready for me tonight.
After making sure the blinds are closed, I pull a couple of things from the bag, toss it to the couch, and then head for his room. The door is cracked, so I knock gently before pushing it open. Pup Runt crawls from the other side of the bed, as if he’d just finished getting ready, decked out in full gear—hood, collar, harness, mitts, knee pads, and a jock, his sexy fucking ass on display.
“Christ, you look hot.”
He cocks his head as if he doesn’t understand. Fuck, he’s getting pretty good at this puppy thing.
“Stay,” I order before I make a slow circle around him. His ass is so damn hot, a tight fucking peach I want to devour. “Good boy.” I reach out and scratch him behind his ear. “I have something for you.”
Kneeling down, I pull the small, bone-shaped tag out of the bag. It’s blue, with studs that match his collar. “See? I made a trip to the pet store and got you a tag. Has your name on the front—Pup Runt, so everyone knows who you are. And if you get lost, it says on the back to return to me.” I turn it around, so he can see the engraving on both sides—his name and also where it says, If lost, please return to Frankie, on the back.