Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 158(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 158(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Another round of fingers and rough words with their hands restraining me, and I nearly passed out. After I recovered, they bathed me in the outdoor shower, both of them tending to my body, every inch touched and cherished. Kisses on my hips, my nipples, my throat, the small of my back. Flint is more tender; Hale is rougher. But they both make me feel like I am the only woman in the world.
And now I’m sitting at dinner, between them, wearing a tiny little lace teddy they picked out, and a sage green robe that feels like heaven on my skin.
Flint made my favorite dinner—pasta puttanesca. But now we’re finishing dessert. Vanilla ice cream with blackberries. Also my favorite.
I lick my spoon clean, eyeing both of them. “Will you both sleep with me tonight?”
They glance at each other, serious and focused. A quick exchange of glares and glances seems to communicate everything, the result of a lifetime of knowing each other. It’s like they can speak a secret language about me.
Sizzzzzzzzlingly hot.
“Not tonight, baby girl,” Hale answers with a twitch in his left eye.
Flint leans back in his chair, legs wide, cock tenting his pants. “You need sleep, sweetheart. And I can promise that if you were in bed with us…”
I plunge my spoon into my ice cream and groan. “I know. I know. You’re right.”
“Bed for you then, Baby,” Hale instructs. “Finish your ice cream. Then bed.”
I gulp so hard that they both can hear it. God. There’s something about the way he talks to me that just turns me to warm honey. “Yes, Papa.”
“And straight to sleep. No nature shows like I know you love,” Flint says. “Sleep. And only sleep. Because tomorrow, sweet girl….” he looks at me with such a greedy, hungry stare I shiver at the new fire in his eyes. “…tomorrow, you’re going to need it.”
I blink back a wave of delicious emotion. Not sadness, not that. Just an overwhelming warmth. Joy. “Thank you.”
I smile, looking to both of them.
Hale shoots me a glance and eats a blackberry. “Use our names, Baby.”
“Thank you, Papa. Thank you, Daddy.”
Gah. Just saying it I nearly spins me into another little orgasm. How is that possible?
Hale signals to me first, tipping his cheek. I lean in, put a soft kiss on his cheek, and he runs his hand down my hip, giving it a possessive grip. “Sweet dreams, beautiful.”
And now to Flint. He stands, walks around the table toward me, and kisses me on the lips. Gentle, though. Kind. Loving. No longer rough. He runs the pad of his thumb down my cheek and swats my ass a little to get me to head upstairs.
With my mind and body full of them, I make my way down the hallway, floating along, almost, like I’m barely on earth at all.
But as I make my way to my room, with its big luxurious bed, starch-crisp sheets, and ocean view, looking forward to the dreams of the day, I hear Flint clear his throat, then say, “How the fuck are we going to make this work, Dad?” His voice is low and concerned, and it makes my heart tighten. “What the hell are people going to say when we get back home, with her between us?”
Then I hear Hale exhale. His chair squeaks and I hear his strong, certain footsteps. The expensive trickling sound of something—whiskey, tequila—going into a glass.
“Don’t worry about all that, son. Just fucking enjoy it. While we still can.”
CHAPTER 7
Flint
It’s sunrise and my dad and I are already awake. I woke up so impossibly hard for her, and still am. My need to jerk off last night was off the charts, but I didn’t dare. Everything I have from now on is for her.
We’re standing in the kitchen, both of us with our coffee, getting ready to bring her breakfast in bed.
“You sleep alright?” he asks, like he did every day growing up and still does whenever we’re together in the mornings.
I sip my coffee and flip the bacon. I steal a piece off the side for myself. Until last night, I’d have said there was nothing better than bacon. But that’s bullshit. She’s way better than bacon. And she’s got my body fucking roaring. Because next up, it’s fucking her. And I’m first.
“Yeah. I mean, sort of.”
He puts some butter on a thick piece of toast for her. “I hear you. Tough to sleep well with that honeycunt in the house.”
I laugh a little, smiling hard. But as I do, I realize my fucking cheeks ache from smiling so much. I haven’t felt this happy in ages. And it’s all because of her.
We get the breakfast tray together for her—the fucking works. Eggs, bacon, toast, her favorite coconut-lemon yogurt (which we had flown in for her), blackberries. A multi-vitamin. An iron supplement. Because that body is ours now. And we’re going to take the best care of it.