Page 103 of Making the King

“N-no.” My voice wavers as I take a step back. “We can do it outside.”

“Wait,” Alana calls out, letting go of me at the same time.

“Oops,” Sasha laughs, not noticing my change in mood.

Shooting me an apologetic grimace, Alana switches the lights on and explains, “Rocco told us to show you the changes before bringing you in here. But we forgot.”

The Cunts haven’t been told my full story, but they know enough to know tiled rooms freak me out. Well, that’s an exaggeration. With Rocco’s help it’s nothing more than discomfort now. Still, he goes out of his way to make sure I’m as comfortable as possible.

“Oh my God,” I gasp. Needing to make sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me, I blink rapidly.

The tiles that used to be here are long gone, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that it’s Rocco that’s replaced it with vinyl. Just like in our bathroom at home.

“Rocco wanted to make sure it was perfect for you,” Rose says, as she walks up behind me.

A lump forms in my throat, and I can only nod when Sasha asks if I want to continue. As they work on my hair, I make the decision to call Rocco and ask him to come. I don’t know what they’re doing tonight, and it doesn’t matter. He’ll come if I ask him to, and I’m selfish enough to want that.

Since my hair almost reaches my waist, it takes forever to add the purple highlights. But the Cunts are no less enthusiastic when we finish than they were when we started.

“It looks amazing,” Cilla whoops once we’re done and my hair is dry.

“Thank you,” I say, looking at each of them in the mirror. “Not just for this, but for making tonight so amazing.”

They nod, and I feel like an understanding settles around us as we look at our reflections. We need no words to cement the bond between us, it runs deeper than that. And I know in my gut that I’ll protect these women with my life.

“Right,” Sasha says, wiping a tear from her eye. “This is fun and all, but I want to get laid.”

I bark out a laugh. “Go,” I grin as I turn around to face them. “I want to call Rocco.”

“Wait,” Izzy interjects. “There’s one last thing to take care of.”

“Oh, yeah,” Cilla says, nodding as she looks at me. “You need something borrowed.”

I gape at them. I know the tradition to have something old, new, borrowed, and blue, I just never even considered embracing it and making it part of my second wedding day.

“Here,” Sasha says, holding her fist out. She unclenches, releasing something that falls right into my outstretched and waiting hand. “It’s all of ours, and we want it back. So take good care of it.”

I’m almost scared to look at what it is, but of course, curiosity gets the better of me. “A button?” I ask, feeling like I’m missing something. “You’re letting me borrow a fucking button?” There’s definitely something I’m not getting here.

The Cunts snigger and share amused glances. I’m just about to demand an answer when Izzy clears her throat. “Remember the jeans you once lent Sasha and didn’t want back because of the cum stains?” I nod because you don’t easily forget when that happens. “Well, we’ve all worn them, and all had an orgasm while wearing them. So it seemed fitting that you, the Mama of Cunts, borrow the button.”

I run a hand through my newly washed and dried hair, letting out a deep breath. “You’re all fucking certifiable,” I laugh. “But I love it, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Waving them all closer, I wrap my arms around Rose and Cilla, pulling them into a hug. Though I can’t reach all of my girls, I hope they know how much they mean to me.

After a while, I step back. “Right, I want to call Rocco,” I say with a grin.

They exchange knowing glances but don’t clue me in on the big secret as they leave the bathroom together.

Once I walk back into the main room, I realize why. Rocco’s already here. He’s sitting at the table we partied at earlier, and he’s looking right at me.

“Sorry,” he drawls, not looking sorry at all as he gets to his feet. “Couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

Grinning, I run to him and jump into his waiting arms. “Mi rey,” I whisper, wrapping my arms and legs around him. “I was just about to call you.”

I claim his lips, eagerly letting my tongue trace the seam of his lips as I move my hands into his hair. Rocco’s tongue delves into my mouth, stroking mine in a way that sends wetness to my core.

“Cara,” he rasps into my mouth.

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