Especially since the reminder is very effectively killing my morning wood and I’d be pretty useless at makinghersmile anymore right now.
“Hey, Mom. Yeah. Yeah. How’s Dad?”
Yep.
Morning wood all gone.
I climb out of bed, wincing as more tingles light up my arm. Laney’s doing a lot ofmm-hmms anduh-huhs while I leave the bedroom and head into the bathroom.
Miss Doodles is perched atop the broken hide-a-bed, watching me. We let her out last night since she was clearly tired of having the kittens all over her.
Funny cat.
Can’t blame her though. Seven kittens is a lot.
“Wanna see your babies?” I ask her.
She answers with a loud purr that I hear all the way across the room. And I take that as a yes.
“Yes, we’re all helping Emma get ready in a couple hours,” Laney says in the bedroom. “I’m glad he’s feeling fine today. You two get some rest. No, really, go get rest. We’ll do breakfast—and lunch—and dinner—when we’re all home again. Justrest. I’ll see you at the wedding.”
I pick up Miss Doodles, who crawls onto my shoulder, lays her head down, and purrs like a freaking machine. “Good kitty.”
She sighs happily and purrs more as I carry her into the room with her babies, who are all snuggled on top of each other in the bed.
Still sleepy time for them, apparently.
Miss Doodles leaps from my shoulder to join them on the bed like she missed them.
The kittens all rise and stretch and yawn and scramble for her with their big eyes and their oversize ears, making my heart melt into a puddle of utter love.
Speaking of fucking adorable.
And their little meows?
I could happily drown in those little meows.
The door opens behind me as I’m checking their food and litter, and Laney slips into the room wearing one of my T-shirts and nothing else. It covers her pussy, but just barely, as it touches her thighs.
Her hair’s a disaster.
My fault.
No regrets.
Her cheeks are rosy, and her smile outshines even the best tropical sunrise. “Aww, look at them loving all over their mama. Oh my gosh! Even Fred’s up there. Good boy, Fred. I won’t get close.” She turns that smile on me, and I swear it gets brighter. “Hand asleep?”
I’m flexing the troublesome one. “Warm-ups for when you’re pissed and I have to jerk myself off.”
She sputters out a laugh.
My stomach growls.
And she smiles even wider. “Wanna try some tropical smoothies for breakfast? I saw a place near that taco shop that looks like they’d have some pineapple mango something, with boba if we want to try it, and I’ll bet they’re even open.”
“Shower first?”
Her eyes go dark in an instant. “You know I hate going out in public when I’m dirty.”
