Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Between the delectable force and inability to scream, I find myself whipping my head back and forth.
Tangling my arms around their necks.
Quietly panting against each of their faces as they slowly and repeatedly pound into me.
Stretch my sopping wet muscles further.
Tease my swollen nub faster.
Chomping down on the inside of my cheek is done out of desperation to hold in my screams, much like curling my toes inside my black boots; however, having to keep the noises muted leads to them being swallowed.
Felt in the hitches of my breath that happen when I frenziedly rock into their heaving.
Shudders shoot through every limb in my entire body pushing me to grind harder.
Greedier.
Needier.
“Such a good girl,” coos Kid in my ear in tandem with their thrusting. “Such a good.” A sharper push. “Good.” The next is deeper. “Girl.”
My entire frame tenses to the point I swear I’m gonna snap a bone.
Or ten.
“You’re such a pretty little whore,” Sir groans, voice practically air, palm drenched from my sticky juices. “Our pretty little whore.”
“Our good girl.”
Their oscillation of compliments causes additional wetness.
Tightness.
“Our cum dumpster.”
Shakes.
“Our one and only.”
Shivers.
“Ours,” gets unforeseenly growled in unison pushing me over the edge, leaving me with no choice but to throw my head backwards, screw my eyes shut, and silently howl into the star filled night sky above us while white-hot pulsations suck in their stiff digits deeper and deeper, reiterating their proclamation.
I am theirs.
And any time…day or night…private or public…they are mine.
Chapter 23
Nolan
Finger fucking the woman I’m gonna propose to with the man I’m also gonna propose to in front of the woman I would’ve never proposed to who also hated said man is the type of Tiny Tim Christmas miracle shit I didn’t even know I needed.
Guess you could say this would be a different type of dickens tale.
Probably a better one, if we’re gonna be honest.
“Come on, Mutt,” Rabbit whines on a dramatic bounce that causes her full tits to delightfully jiggle. “You have to have a cup of hot chocolate with us.” Her irresistible smile somehow gets even more so without permission. “Don’t suddenly turn into The Grinch Who Fucked Up Christmas.”
“I wanted to be The Grinch Who Fucked the Woman He Helped Knocked Up Before Christmas, but noooo,” I good-naturedly goad. “You two wanted us to ‘save something’ to do at home.”
The Kid lightly chuckles, grabs my hand, and tugs me into the food truck line with them on a flirty, “You need something to keep you warm until I can, Sir.”
Not growling is damn near impossible.
He looks extra fuckable in that sweater.
I know that’s why he wore it.
To…punish me for being on call.
But like I fucking said earlier…building a life is expensive.
And so is having a family.
And getting engagement rings.
And buying that interior design kit for the dad van he doesn’t think I was paying attention to him drooling over during breakfast the other day.
“Fine,” I surrender on a reluctant smirk. “I’ll buy us a round of hot chocolate.”
“I’ll be buying us a round of hot chocolate,” Rabbit interjects prior to pointing at the menu. “And jumbo marshmallows, which cost extra.”
“You’re not paying,” The Kid swiftly refuses.
“And what the fuck are jumbo marshmallows?” My eyes narrow during my scanning of the choices. “And why the fuck are there so many flavors?” There’s no stopping my shoulders from dropping in irritation. “Seriously? What the fuck is unicorn hot chocolate?”
“What I will be ordering,” our girlfriend happily sasses while pulling her thick locks into a high bun on the top of her head. “With jumbo marshmallows.”
Our gazes instantly lock. “Just to piss me off?”
“Of course,” she snickers, grin growing wider, “it’s the natural order of our existence.”
“And I will be having red velvet,” Kid announces, fingers still connected to mine, despite his eyes glued to our woman tucking her favorite pen into her hair. “No marshmallows, extra cream cheese whip cream.”
“Right,” I sardonically snip, “because marshmallows would make that gross.”
They both snicker at my expense, leaving me no choice but to smile again.
Fuckme.
Can’t help it.
They laugh, and I swear to the big tow truck driver in the sky that my heart really does grow two sizes or whatever.
They smile, and I swear to the same lord of towing that I know exactly what I was put on this earth to fucking do.
How the hell am I gonna handle adding a son into the shit?
What’s gonna happen to me?
Am I gonna randomly just break out into fucking song?
Insist on wearing matching outfits?
Actually drink obnoxiously flavored beverages?
Car gods help me now.
“What do you like to drink in the winter, Mutt?” Rabbit lovingly links her fingers with Kid’s other set as we collectively move forward. “Whiskey? Scotch?”
“Guinness,” The Kid and I answer in tandem.
She keeps her snarky smirk. “Should’ve known.”
“Probably,” our boyfriend teases in return. “That’s basic winter Sir shit 1-0-1.”