Monty hadn’t considered himself a crybaby. Of course he cried. Many situations warranted it. The omegas from Drinkwater. His friends finding their mates. Emmy when teething, and he couldn’t help. They were genuine reasons. Blubbering all over Kendrick’s massive chest all because they were going to treasure him… yeah, crybaby right here.
He turned his face into Kendrick’s chest to hide the tears. He was the cocky one. The upbeat one. Most definitely not the one who acted like a crybaby.
“We’ve got you.” Rue was there, his nose pressed against Monty’s cheek. “It’s been an emotional day for all of us.”
“Then why aren’t you crying,” he mumbled accusingly, moving just enough to catch sight of Rue’s eyes.
The man holding him shook with silent laughter as Rue looked to struggle to keep his own laughter in check. “I cried out a lot while you were fucking me.”
Feeling slightly mollified by the answer, Monty nodded. “You did and Kendrick begged,” he made sure to point out.
Kendrick kissed his head. “I did, and I can’t wait to do it again.”
“Good, because we will be. Now I know how good it feels to be in charge, I’ll be wanting to do it more often. You’re right, you have created a monster.”
“Is that because you’re the dick bomb?” Kendrick asked, eyes gleaming with mirth.
Shit. Had he said that? All my days, he had. His cheeks flamed, though he hoped that could be attributed to the hot water.
He met Kendrick’s gaze with confidence. “Did you come like a bomb exploding?”
“I most certainly did.”
Rue’s chuckles increased as he went back to washing Monty.
“Then I’ve the dick bomb.”
Kendrick kissed him. “How can I argue with that?”
Monty yawned, his jaw clicking at the stretch, water filling his mouth. He spat it out away from Kendrick. “What time is it?”
“About midnight.”
Monty groaned and complained. “You could have left me to sleep. I’ve work in the morning.”
“So have I,” Rue pointed out.
“Yes, but I spent the day baking, and remember, I was the one doing all the work in the bedroom.”
“How can we make it up to you?” Rue asked, his soapy hands sliding between his legs and over his groin.
His cock tingled and perked up, making him groan, but for a different reason than tiredness.
“I suppose if you both did all the work, I could manage another round,” he supplied on a breathy moan.
Chapter Forty-One
Rue
Rue sat in Silas’s office, staring at his phone. His thoughts circled around on who to call first to share his news. He swiped to open the screen, and he went into the video chat app, and pressed Laken’s name. He would call Dad and Popi next. First, he wanted to let Laken know, before anyone else, that he had two mates.
Six rings later, and Rue thought that Laken must be in a meeting that couldn’t be interrupted. He was about to end the call when a dishevelled-looking Laken appeared on the screen.
Rue, in all the time he’d known Laken, had never seen him—but once—anything but put together, so this was a sucker punch that he’d once taken from Booker. It knocked him right off the reality perch he sat on about his expectations of Laken.
“Holy fuck, are you home with a hangover when you’re supposed to be at work?”
Was that high-pitched voice his? It fucking seemed so when Laken grunted, and a glass of what looked like water appearedon the screen in front of Laken’s face. He downed it in greedy gulps.
