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“I’ll make sure it’s all okay while you shower. It probably is. The bread might be a little hard.”
“Considering I have no other food in the apartment, I think I can live with that.”
“Great,” he says, smiling at me.
I smile back, and the smile dies as a rush of cum gushes down my legs.
“Oh, my God,” I mutter.
“You want me to help with that?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“No, I need a shower, and then food.”
Not a second day of sex above all else.
I didn’t even call Secret yesterday.
She knows I’ve met my mates, I guess, so that’s probably why she didn’t try send Seth or Ryan over to bring me to dinner. Still, I came out here to be close to her. I don’t want to forget about that.
Even if it does make me feel awful every time she’s about to call me her sister and she stops herself.
I don’t honestly know how to deal with that. I’m not her sister, and I don’t want to be her sister.
I know I can’t expect her to suddenly start calling me Mom, but the S word is dead to me.
“Okay,” Toshi says. “You go shower, and I’ll go find plates for the food.”
“Thanks, Toshi.”
I head into the bathroom and run the water straight away. I don’t bother waiting for it to heat up. Cum is still running down my legs so thick and fast that it looks like I must have been fucked raw by all four of my mates last night. I mean, that’s the only way this much semen could possibly have ended up inside me.
I take the cold rinse of water with gritted teeth as I clean myself up and I wash my hair once the stream turns warm. I come out of the bathroom once I’m scrubbed and cleansed and completely positive that nothing else is going to gush out of me.
E.A.’s still sleeping when I step back into the bedroom, careful to avoid any wet spots on the carpet.
I get dressed and brush my wet hair before I go into the other room.
Toshi’s got some plates on the table and he’s in the process of eating half of a sandwich.
“How is it?” I ask, not really caring.
I’m hungry enough right now to choke down anything.
He nods, as he points out the pile of packed up sandwiches.
“I got two of each, so it doesn’t matter which one you pick.”
“What’s on them?” I ask as I peek in the first pack I see.
“Salad, roast beef, and chicken mayo.”
“The salad is just salad?” I ask.
“That would be E.A.’s pick,” he says. “Everything else can’t be verified as free-range, or unprocessed, or whatever.”
I close the salad sandwich.
“Well, as much as I support the idea of that kind of stuff, I’m too hungry to let it stop me this morning.”
