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Just like that, the tables turned. Noa’s buttons were pushed, and he shot right up.
“Yes, I can!” he hollered. “I had a beard for Christmas, you dummies!”
Greer and Colt went dubious, and they turned to me for confirmation, to which I subtly shook my head. I loved my boy, but those four whiskers had not been near beard territory.
“We do not call anyone dummy around here, Noa,” Lucian told him. “If you want to watch a group-play scene tonight, you’ll apologize to Mustache One and Mustache Two.”
Ah, I loved him. That was a perfect blend of serious and let’s-lighten-the-situation.
Greer frowned at Lucian. “You used to be fun. You used to rock a goatee. What happened, man?”
“He got together with a boring corporate lawyer.” I answered for him. “I forbid wackadoo beards and mustaches.”
Colt chuckled. “You’re a lotta things, KC. Borin’ ain’t one.”
I puckered my lips at him, and he winked.
Noa stiffened. “Are you flirting?!”
Colt offered a chin-nod. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Yes!” Noa cried out. “You’re all so damn confusing! You flirt and kiss, but then Mister Macklin said no way, José, cuz you and Master Greer and Reese’s Pieces are locked down and would never have sex outside your dynamics.”
“Mister Macklin,” Colt and I scoffed in unison.
Then Colt took over. “Don’t listen to that brat. He doesn’t know shit.”
Exactly. I mean, that was a complete fabrication; Macklin couldn’t be more correct, but we didn’t want Noa to believe that. Besides, limits could shift just a tad in favor of fucking with brats. We could also pretend like pros.
“Since when is everything about sex?” Greer asked. Ironically going with Noa’s line of thought from before. “We don’t gotta go far to make your little heads spin. Just watch this.” He leaned in and kissed Colt, and like clockwork, they had Cam’s and Noa’s undivided attention. It was a slow, sensual kiss, and it didn’t stop there. Colt slipped a hand down Greer’s jeans, just enough for his fingers to tease the promised land, and it made Noa curse.
“Daddy!” Kit shrieked somewhere. I didn’t see him—wait. He was on the deck. Or he had been. Now he was sprinting toward us. “Are you playing or not? Please say yes!”
Greer and Colt chuckled and broke away.
Case in point.
“We were just provin’ something, little darlin’.” Colt gathered a breathless Kit close and kissed the top of his head. “We evidently hitched our domly wagons to a bunch’a baby sluts.”
“And us to a bunch of cockteases,” Noa retorted. “With pickle juice on their dicks.”
“Exactly!” Kit agreed. “Wait, what? Pickle juice?”
“Well, you know what?” Greer said abruptly and folded his arms over his chest. “If we Doms ever decide to reward you with a sexy show, the key word is reward. You boys better have been so good that nothin’ else cuts it.”
Game. Set. Match.
Noa and Kit went quiet, and we didn’t miss their exchange. It was so obvious that their minds went straight to whatever shit they were gonna pull on the cruise. Even Cam’s little smirk confirmed it. He knew the brats were up to something. He’d told me.
The boys had some thinkin’ to do.
* * *
I would’ve loved to say how two glasses of whiskey loosened me up physically before we headed into the main house, but the only thing loose on me was the urge to fuck a feisty Top. My legs were close to unresponsive after today, so I had no choice but to park my ass in my chair.
Noa brought the wheelchair lift down to the lobby, and Lucian pushed me onto the platform.
I peered up at Lucian. “You and Cam watching?”
