Page 50 of Fighting My Demons

“Fucking take it. Take it, you pussy ass bitch,” Blaine says, trying to jam the rubber cock in my mouth.

“I live with morons,” Latham mutters beside me as he sits on the couch, looking down at us.

Blaine pinches my nose, trying to force me to open my mouth. “He jammed it down my throat!”

“Fucking children,” Latham huffs, snatching it from Blaine's grip and smacking him in the head with it.

“Is that my dildo?” Bella’s voice reaches our ears, making our heads whip to the bedroom door.

Latham is standing there with her dildo in his hands. If looks could kill, we would be dead a million times over.

“You went through my drawers?”

“He did it!” I point at Blaine, and he points at Latham, still holding the rubber cock.

She blinks at us, shocked.

“They stole it and were brandishing it as a weapon,” Latham says.

“So, why have you got it then?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest and raising an eyebrow at him.

“He wanted to try it out. Said it was bigger than Xavier,” Blaine snorts, and I punch him in the ribs.

“Fucking isn’t,” I spit at him.

“Yeah? Get it out then,” Blaine taunts.

That motherfucker. Just because he is hung like a fucking horse on dick steroids.

“I will have you know, Bella, my penis is well above average. Blaine’s is just as freakishly big. Now, get off me!” I snap at Blaine.

“I love getting off on you,” Blaine retorts, and Bella laughs at our banter while I try to wrestle the idiot off me.

“Coffee while those morons compare dicks?” I hear Latham ask her before stepping over us.

He shoots us both an angry look to say we are in for it later. Blaine, the masochist, smiles, batting his thick lashes at him.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Bella

I wake up to find them with my toys, yet I don’t have time to feel embarrassed as Latham steers me toward the kitchen.

Looking at the clock, I realize it is morning. I must have slept the entire night.

“How are you feeling?” Latham asks, pulling my gaze away from the clock.

“Yeah, fine now. I think the day just got away from me,” I tell him honestly.

I have never been a fainter. Hyperventilating, yes, but not to the point of passing out twice in one night.

“So, you went to my place?” I ask him.

He sighs while making coffee. “If I say yes, will you be angry?”

I shrug.

“Then yes, we went to grab your box in the living room.”