“Sure. We have a deal of the day on ibuprofen, though. Two for the price of one,” and I swear to fucking God, she sees right through me.
“Two for the price of one?” I croak.
“Yes,” she says, blinking innocently. “Sometimes one is just not enough.” She smiles.
“Okay. Sure, why not?” I shrug.
“The ibuprofen?” she turns, reaching for a shelf behind her, leaning up on the tips of her sneakers.
“Yes. Thanks.”
“You want the Tylenol, too?” she asks over her shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” I blurt. What I want is just to get the hell out of here with my XXL-size bag of lube, condoms, and painkillers and back home to my guys.
“Have a good night, sir,” she coos as she drops the pills into the brown paper bag.
“Thanks. You too,” I mumble, grabbing the bag and clutching it against my chest. I nearly bump into the customer behind me as I race out of the pharmacy, throwing a “Sorry” over my shoulder.
Ty leaps into my arms the minute I walk in the door, squealingMitchy!loudly—too loudly—into my ear. As I catch him in my arms, the paper bag comes crashing down, pills, lube, and condoms spilling out onto the hardwood floor. “Daddy’s home, Cal!” he calls out over his shoulder before he sucks my Adam’s apple into his wet mouth, and my chest is instantly flooded withwarmth.Daddy. Never pictured myself as one—at least notthatkind of Daddy—but if the shoe fits. And boy, does it fit.
If I’d thought for one second it would be awkward seeing Ty again, I’m immediately put to shame. He acts like it’s the most natural thing in the world, humming around my Adam’s apple, feasting hungrily on my skin, his strong, skinny legs wrapped around me. I can’t help but laugh into his hair, the scent of orange blossom greeting me, as I grab his ass tighter.
“Mitchy?” I murmur into his dark curls.
Ty looks up, his eyes glazed over with want. “It’s your new name.” He smiles endearingly, the smile reaching up to his eyes, setting them aflame. A bonfire of browns and oranges and I just smile back, equally dazed, because I never thought I would get to see Ty smiling with his eyes again. “I missed you,” he breathes, then frowns as he takes in my expression. “What’s wrong?” His soft voice is tinted with an edge of worry.
“Nothin’,” I rasp. “Missed you too, love,” I say, pressing theloveagainst his plush lips.
“Reaaalllyyy?” he wiggles in my arms, any concern instantly vanishing from his voice.
“Of course.” I wink. Smiling even broader, he jumps from my arms, landing on a bottle of lube, and it explodes under his socked feet. He’s wearing lemon-yellow shorts and one of his trademark crop tops, yellow too, with a banana wearing sunglasses on the front. He better not have worn that to work, the little brat.
“Of course not, Daddy!” He laughs. “You’re so silly. I wore this just for you, Mitchy,” he purses his lips in a pout, before he does a twirl, sticking his perky boy butt out. Shit, I said that out loud, didn’t I? My mouth is going all rogue on me, but apparently, I have trouble functioning properly when Ty’s around. “You like?” he says, biting his bottom lip. The best I can come up with is an outdrawn growl, and he positively glows at that. Looking downat the floor, he lifts his right foot, sticky with lube. Looking up, he smirks at me before he yells in the direction of the kitchen, “Cal-Bear, Mitch raided a sex shop on his way home!” I wince because, yes, it does look like I did that. Shit, I hope he doesn’t think that I only want him for sex.
“I just… I thought it was a good idea…” I stumble over my words. “I mean… whenever…” I sigh. “If that’s something you’d want.”Shit.Ty frowns, then grabs me by the neck of my shirt, pulling me in, cooing against my chin, “You did good, Daddy.” Then he chuckles. “I almost turned into the Santa Clarita Ransacker earlier when I couldn’t find any lube,” he blinks innocently.
“The Santa Clarita Ransacker?” I ask, a brow raised.
“Yeah, I don’t need that on my rap sheet too, do I, Mitchy?” he teases. “But I found some. Or the sad remnants of some,” he says, shaking his head sadly.
“What did you need lube for?” I growl.
“Just prepping, you silly man.” He beams, tap-tap-tapping the words against the tip of my nose. Damn, was Ty always this bratty? I can’t recall. He makes a man want to go all caveman style and just manhandle him until he behaves. Shit, what am I talking about? I don’t want Ty to behave. I want himexactlylike this.
“Shit, babe,” Cal hums, sliding up next to Ty, grabbing his ass possessively, looking delicious as always. “I thought Ty was kiddin’,” he laughs, looking down at myfuck-fest-to-goon the floor. He smells of rosemary and something sweet, figs perhaps, as he leans in, kissing me deeply.
“Hey babe.” He smiles against my lips. “You good?” His hazel eyes flicker between mine. I just nod, leaning in, stealing another kiss.
“Heyyy,” Ty protests, wiggling in between us. “I want kisses too,” he pouts, scrunching his nose adorably. And how can Iever deny him anything when he looks at me like that? Pulling him against me, I watch as Cal devours Ty, sucking his lips into his mouth and humming around them. It’s the hottest fucking thing ever, my husband kissing Ty like that, all hungry and possessively. Ty looks so frail, yet strong, as he clings to me while kissing Cal. Like he needs us, and we need him too. Panting, he breaks free, turning his face toward me, his moist breath hitting my chin. Then his lips are on mine, a whine smothered between us. Humping me like a damn incubus, Ty rides my thigh, his hardness grinding against me, digging into me.
“Dinner first,” Cal groans as he grabs a panting Ty by his neck, pulling him off me.
“Daddyyy…” Ty complains, humping nothing but the space between us now.
“Nah-ah,” Cal says, his voice going to that deep place that turns me inside out. “Dinner first.” He looks down at the floor, then back up at Ty. “If you’re a good boy and clean up Daddy’s mess, then we’ll fuck you later.” Then he turns around on his heel, heading back toward the kitchen, while a dumbstruck Ty stares after him. Shaking himself, he swallows a moan, then drops to the floor, his ridiculously short shorts riding up when he bends over and starts picking up the packets of pills. My hand flies to my crotch, squeezing my cock behind my dress pants, two seconds away from exploding as Ty’s tight, fleshy globes move in front of me. Sucking in a deep breath, I mumble a “Good boy” before trailing after my husband. I need a drink. I need several. Sweet Lord, have mercy on me.
Chapter Eighteen
