The weight of Monty’s dick in my mouth was familiar. This, we knew. We rarely did it on a bed and fully naked, though.
Monty kneaded my ass cheeks with both hands, forcing my cock into his throat until he gagged. I drank him in—his precum, his shivers and groans, the scent from his groin, the warmth coming off his massive body.
We didn’t rush it. We teased and edged each other until Monty bucked into my mouth, losing control. I swallowed his cum and gave him mine, and he ate it all, humming.
I thought of Laurel. I didn’t mean to, but his face just popped into my mind right after I came. His glistening catlike eyes looked both needy and wary, his hair was a tangled mess around his head, and his lips were swollen from kisses and dick sucking. Defiant yet so fragile.
He should have been here with us.
Damn Laurel to hell and back. Damn him for making Monty sad, for making me want him even as he hurt the most important man in my life.
“Can you stay?” Monty whispered, sounding fearful.
Unsettled and a little angry still, I opened my arms for my teddy bear. He cuddled me, kissing the hollow below my ear. I petted him as he fell asleep, running my fingers over his arm and shoulder and combing them through his hair.
Maybe I was the consolation prize. Who cared? Giving Monty the comfort he needed was my priority.
19
LAUREL
I’d slept on the couch. How dumb was I? I had the chalet to myself, the master bedroom all fluffed up, and I fell asleep on the couch in a bathrobe, with a fleece blanket over my legs and the guitar on the floor. I must have been playing long into the night.
Rubbing my eyes, I checked my phone and found twelve recordings. Nine were of the work-in-progress I’d tentatively called Magnificent Mess, and three of another melody with just three verses, something about the rain and mist in the mountains, and lone beasts lurking in the forests.
I didn’t dare to listen to the recordings for fear that the excitement I’d felt last night would fall flat today. Coffee first, maybe a shower, then I’d see if I was in the mood to play some more.
Setting the phone aside, I stretched my legs and groaned. The couch was comfy, but my lower back ached anyway. My own fault. I wriggled my toes and moved my legs.
Huh.
That wasn’t just any back pain. It spilled into my belly, warm and achy. And why was my bathrobe damp?
I threw the blanket off and untied the sash.
Wide-eyed, I stared at my bloated underbelly and hardening cock. It was dark with blood. My hole prickled, wetness cooling on my rim.
My stomach cramped up.
I ran to the bathroom, emptied myself, and took a shower, thoroughly washing my crease. Relieved, I felt my stomach relaxing. Maybe it had been the ice cream I’d had for dinner.
Except the slick kept coming even after I’d climbed out of the shower. The stomachache went away, but my belly remained swollen. My muscles felt all mellow and soft, especially around my hips and ass, and the clean T-shirt and sweats I’d put on itched. I wanted to be naked.
And I wanted my bears here with me.
God, I missed Monty and Jordy. Had it only been one night? How could I miss them so much? But I was getting distracted.
I wasn’t hungry but forced myself to eat a banana and dry toast for breakfast. The ache in my lower back returned, so I did a few yoga exercises. It didn’t help.
Then I noticed that while I’d been stretching and contorting my body, a wet spot had formed on the back of my sweats. Which were tented in the front.
Fucking hell, I was hard and leaking like a faucet!
I was doing my best not to jump to conclusions, but the symptoms were getting harder to ignore.
This wasn’t normal.
After drinking a glass of water in a futile attempt to calm my rising panic, I called Hunter. Only in Beauville would the doctor answer the phone himself and right away. I was lucky to catch him between patients, it seemed.
