Page 66 of Lorcan
“That’s on me.” He rubbed his sternum. His flannel reindeer pajamas bunched. “I have to learn to not be so sensitive.”
“Lorcan.” I held out my hand, beckoning him over. “Come here, Pumpkin.”
He blinked.
Oh. Have I misjudged?Timing was always tough.
“I want to be your Pumpkin.” He smiled tremulously.
I held out the ears. “Let’s see if they fit.”
He came over and sat gingerly next to me.
With care, I put the ears on his head. Then I slid the paws on his hands.
The butt plug tail would wait for another day.
I held out the squeaky toy.
He opened his mouth.
I placed it inside.
He chomped.
I laughed.
After a couple of squeaks, he got on the bed—on all fours.
I feathered my hand through his hair and scratched his chin. “Do you want to play?” I fingered the collar.
He nodded.
I put it on him.
We roughhoused for a few minutes. I tried to take the squeaky toy while he evaded me. We each took a knotted end of the rope and pulled.
I tried not to wince when he used his mouth. Seriously, I couldn’t imagine how bad that tasted.
His happy eyes assured me he didn’t care one bit.
Eventually, though, he started to flag.
I feathered his hair again. “Are you tired?”
He nodded.
“Okay. I have a bit of work to do on my laptop. Do you want to curl beside me while I work?”
He nodded.
“I just have to ask you not to look at the screen.”
“I would never.”
“I figured. I don’t use patient names, but I still—”
He nodded. “I get it. Truly, Cody, I do. I would never do that.”
