“Maybe I’ll bend you over next to Freya’s new coffee machine one night while everyone’s seated at the dinner table, distracted with their conversations.”
When I feel his dick pulse, I know he’s filling the condom.
Just like I did a few minutes earlier, he shakes and shudders beneath me, although he doesn’t miss a beat in his pursuit to pull another orgasm from my body.
He succeeds before wrapping my satiated frame around him as he carries us into the shower and turns on the water.
The bathroom fills with steam, and he setsme down on my feet. “I’m going to go and grab Blake’s monitor so we can hear if she needs us.”
There’s no way this man can be real.
A minute later, he reemerges with the monitor, setting it down next to the sink.
He joins me under the stream, turning me around so my back is to his chest.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He snaps the condom off and tosses it in the trash can.
“I already told you, Bill—showing you exactly how you deserve to be treated.”
And that’s precisely what he does until the warm water runs cold, washing and cleaning me before he drops to his knees and eats me out, like he promised.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
EMMETT
Because I like taking risks with my life, I stayed over at Billie’s place.
In her bed.
It’s not even light outside, but my mind couldn’t be any more awake as I lie on my back, staring up at a ceiling that I’ll be calling Billie’s landlord about as soon as a semi-reasonable hour rolls around.
If the mold festering in my girl’s bedroom is dangerous, then Billie’s lazy-ass landlord can join Tucker at the top of my shit list.
Morning skate looms in the back of my mind. I don’t even have a toothbrush here, let alone training gear, which means I’ll need to swing by my place before I head to the rink. Still, my delinquency—and potential fine—couldn’t be more worth it.
Yesterday was … indescribable.
When I finished making Billie scream in the shower, we curled up on the couch with snacks and watchedThe Little Mermaidwith Blake.
It was around eleven p.m. when I finally carried Billie’s crashed-out body to bed and decided right there that I couldn’t get up and leave. Not after the day she’d had and definitely not after we’d slept together for the first time.
Small whimpers filter from Blake’s bassinet, and I gently pull my arm from under Billie’s body. Floorboards creak beneath my feet as I round the bed and lift her onto my chest.
“What’s the matter, B?” I whisper quietly.
Like I’ve seen so many times before with Billie, Blake nuzzles into my bare chest, mouth searching for milk I obviously can’t provide.
I look back at Billie, peacefully resting and getting a first night of unbroken sleep in weeks. One hand rests on my pillow, the bracelet I got still fastened around her wrist.
“Let’s see what we can do, yeah?” I say to Blake, quietly stepping into the kitchen to find the formula and sterilized bottles I know Billie keeps somewhere in the kitchen.
Big eyes watch me carefully prepare Blake’s bottle, no doubt way slower than her mommy can do.
“Measuring out formula and water and screwing a lid on, all with one hand—it’s way harder than it looks,” I quietly whisper to a feeding Blake as I lean against the counter and cross my ankles, in awe of how quickly such a small baby can nail a relatively large serving.
Five or so minutes later, I’ve got a full but uncomfortable Blake squirming around on my chest and not a fucking clue how to burp her, which is what I’m pretty sure she needs.
