Page 25 of Pull
“I don’t think—”
“That sounds awesome!” Ryan cheers. “Babe, a Pride party! Doesn’t that sound awesome??”
I blink at him, trying really hard to get him to read my thoughts.Baby, I know you’re a little tipsy right now, but I have no earthly desire to hang out with Tate and his friends. Please don’t make me do this.
He gapes at me for a moment, and for a split second I think maybe heishearing me.
But then he leans in close to my ear and whispers, “Fucking at the party will bewaymore fun than fucking in the bathroom, don’t you think?” He extends his tongue to swipe the shell of my ear before sucking the lobe between his lips.
My dick is all too ready to oblige.
Clearing my throat, I glance at Tate. “Around the corner?”
* * *
Tate’s friend’shouse is super nice.
It’s a sort of townhouse type with a backyard patio area, which is where everyone is hanging out. I immediately smell the grilling food and while it’s making my stomach rumble up a storm, I’m more concerned with getting something into Ryan’s so he doesn’t get sick.
Sick, though, is not how he seems. He seems like he’s having the time of his life, waving at strangers and shimmying to the thumping Lady Gaga playing over the seemingly giant speakers I don’t see anywhere.
Another thing about this party: It’s ninety-eight percent dudes.
I spot two females.Two.Honestly, they’re hard to miss in this crowd of half-dressed men, all of whom are in amazing shape.
Pride is something I never anticipated myself attending before last year, and yet now that I’m here, I’m sort of liking it. Begrudgingly. Like, I wouldn’t broadcast that I’m having a good time, but itisfun to be in this sort of setting, although I’d still much rather be at home in the man-cave with my family.I’m a homebody, okay?
Not even necessarily athome, but I prefer to spend time alone with my partners. This seems like fun once a year, but I haven’t been a party animal since I was in high school. I’m not going back to it now that I’m nearing forty.
Ryan, on the other hand… He’s still so young. That’s what worries me on occasion; that he’s giving up youthful experiences to settle in with Jess and me. He’s never alluded to it, and he always shuts me down when I bring it up, but I can’t help the insecurities.
So, more than anything, this is for him.
The measures I’d take to make this kid happy know no bounds. Clearly, since looking around I don’t exactly feel like I fit in here. But I suppose my husband is my VIP pass into the Pride setting?
I have no idea…
“Hey there,” a shirtless guy with giant sunglasses and a rainbow bandana tied around his head comes up to us, kisses Tate on the cheek and hands Ryan a drink. Ryan goes to immediately take a sip, but I snatch it away from him. “I’m so happy to see you, love.” He’s talking to Tate. Then his face tilts in our direction. “Who are your friends? They’re yummy.”
“Kennan, this is Ben and his husband, Ryan,” Tate introduces us. “Ben and I grew up together.” Then he tells us, “This is Ken’s house.”
I nod, shaking his hand. “Thanks for having us.”
“Can’t say no to more eye candy on Pride.” He flashes a bight grin. “Especially of theDaddyvariety.”
I purse my lips while Ryan giggles.
“Ryan here needs to eat before he ends up snoring,” Tate tells his friend, then motions toward the grill.
“Oh please, knock yourselves out,” Kennan offers politely. “There’s way more than enough food since half these queens won’t be eating.” He lets out an exuberant laugh to which Tate grins. But it stops abruptly when he gasps, “Ryan?!Is this the one…?”
Kennan’s head tilts in the direction of my husband, though he seems to be sharing some unspoken words with Tate. Tate nods and Kennan lowers his sunglasses to get a good look at Ryan.
“Okay, that’s enough,” I drag my husband away while the two of them laugh amongst themselves. “Assholes,” my jaw tightens, and I deposit Ryan on a chair, grabbing a plate of grilled chicken and potato salad and sliding it in front of him. “Eat.”
“Why are you so grumpy?” He pouts, but does as I say, taking the tiniest bites ever.
“It’s annoying,” I sigh, fisting my hair.
