Page 226 of Broken Bonds
I look at Shawn and he laughs again. “Dude, your face will freeze like that.”
I shove another forkful of cake into my piehole. Fortunately, I’m wearing one of Todd’s T-shirts, and it hangs down past my hips. Even though I’m reclining, it still covers me.
Because the bike shorts I’m wearing—pretty much the only pants I wear now—do absolutely nothing to conceal my near constant erection.
Like the one I have now at the thought of what Todd’s going to do to me tonight.
The Lycra shorts keep it pinned against my body, at least, and I can wear sweatpants or drawstring shorts over them when I need to go down to the office in the barn or out in public. But throughout the past week, when I knew I had the house to myself, I started freeballing it and sitting on towels because when Todd comes up to the house, I’m instantly on my hands and knees and waving my ass in his face for a fucking.
The other night, he tied me up in bed, shoved the vibrating butt plug up me, hooked me up to the milker, and took a nap next to me on the bed because I’d already worn him out fucking and still wanted more.
I lay there for the better part of an hour before I finally tapped out and nudged him with my head to wake him up.
I probably would have lasted longer if I’d hydrated more during the day.
But I know Jax has it worse, because he asked Todd for information about where to purchase the same huge strap-on Todd has that Shawn loves, a milker, and a vibrating butt plug, and if they make a larger-sized plug.
Good, because he can’t borrow ours.
Especially since they’re increasingly being used on—in—me.
The door to the hallway opens, and Bruce Marchman sticks his head out. “I think I’m going to head out, but I wanted to say goodbye first.”
Shawn and I somehow manage to get up and out of the loungers to waddle over for hugs.
Hugging a vampire?
Yep, my life is officially weird in the best way possible now.
“Thanks for coming,” I say. “It was great having you here!”
“I wouldn’t have missed it.”
Shawn also hugs him. “Don’t be a stranger, man.”
“I won’t. We’ll be busy the next few weeks with fencing, though.”
“Well, if you need babysitters, we’re here,” Shawn says.
Actually, yeah, Shawn and I have kind of earned ourselves a rep as the favorite babysitters with the vampire nest, because we let the kids get away with murder.
Eh, metaphorically.
The adults are still trying to deal with moving what’s salvageable from their old home, getting new jobs, and rebuilding their lives so, understandably, they want trusted babysitters who can hold their own with the little hooligans.
But they’re great. Alizée is still closely working with them and says that their healing is on track as much as it can be after having gone through such a traumatic event.
Shawn and I have talked in private and agree Bruce Marchman isn’t a friend we ever foresaw, but now that the fanged fighter is in our inner friend circle, neither of us could imagine it any other way.
Todd and Jax walk over to also give him hugs, and they walk with him down to the garage, where he parked. We’d set up several tarps hanging on the lanai so he could be outside with us for most of the event and not be stuck in the house.
I waddle back to my lounger, where the remainder of my piece of cake awaits me, when I feel…something. I’m still standing, and had bent over to pick up the small paper plate holding my cake.
When I look down, I realize there’s liquid soaking through my bike shorts and running down my legs.
Hmm. Interesting. I mean, I didn’t pee myself…
I’m still shoving the remainder of my cake into my face when the first contraction hits, and that’s when 2+2 finally stops equaling 5 in my brain, and I gasp.
