Spare Parts: Reminding you of Dad’s injury?
Me: Yeah. He’s sinking into the darkness.
Spare Parts: And you’re cheering him up with your ass...ets?
Spare Parts: Again, ew.
Me: You’re doing this all yourself you know.
Spare Parts: I regret this whole conversation. It’s damaging me more than you.
Me: Yes, I’m dating him. He’s a surprisingly nice guy. Even more surprisingly, Dad’s okay with it.
Spare Parts: Tate isn’t Zack, Peppy.
Me: I know. It still felt like betrayal though.
Spare Parts: I get it, but don’t let shit with Dad stop you from falling... yadda yadda yadda.
Me: You give such good pep-talks.
Spare Parts: Don’t you forget it. It’s late, get some sleep.
Me: You’re not the boss of me.
Spare Parts: I’m glad he has you, you know. This shit isn’t easy, and if anyone’s going to get him through this, it’s you, Sissy.
Me: I love you too, Copycat.
At some point, I pass out on Tate’s chest. But when I wake up, my back is to him, and I’m pretty sure that thing digging into my back is his cock. Again. It’s still dark, I’m not sure that means anything considering it’s basically winter outside, but an awareness prickles on my skin that he’s awake. He presses his cock against me. Or maybe I just wish he did, and his cock is really just there, but either way it makes me moan.
“Did I wake you?”
“With your raging hard on? Yes. You did.”
“I can’t help it. I rolled over and found a beautiful woman in my bed. My dick woke up before I did.”
I giggle. “How’s your face? Do you need more meds?”
“No.” His voice is quiet, husky, and there’s something intimate about being awake at whatever middle-of-the-night time it is. “Not yet.”
“Water? A smoothie? I can go get you a smoothie.” I move the covers to sit up but he puts his hand on me. Not sure whether or not it’s intentional but his hand lands right on my boob and we both freeze.
“That was an accident. Should I remove it?”
“If you take your hand off my boob I’ll break your fingers.”
He chuckles and squeezes my breast in his hand before thrumming his thumb over the hard tip of my nipple making me purr.
“Who knew that was how to make you less murderous? All I had to do was stroke your nipple? This whole time?”
He might keep talking, I have no idea. I’m lost in the feather-light sweeps of the pad of his thumb against the sensitive skin making my body turn to jelly.
When I reach behind me to get his cock, he smacks away my hand.
“Don’t you want it?”
“Of course I do.”
