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Fuck Monday mornings.
I swear to God they come too fast.
It’s impossible not to smirk over a new thought as I exit my bathroom.
Guess the same shit could be said about me last night.
But unlike Monday, which I expect to arrive after Sunday, I didn’t predict The Kid would physically prove his point.
That he’d put our girl on her knees.
Make her suck his cock while I watched.
Bust a nut in her mouth and then demand I lick the shit off her tongue.
The fact I came in my work pants during that kiss should’ve been fucking embarrassing.
Hell, the fact I was so desperate to taste another man’s cum the way I was should’ve been shameful shit.
Like never tell another living soul I have those feelings level of shameful shit.
But fuck me…I’d never wanted anything in my mouth that bad in my whole entire life.
And the worst part is none of it felt wrong to me.
Not letting him have control.
Not letting him keep control when he instructed Bunny to crawl on my lap and give me a proper welcome home after a hard day.
Not even blowing my load when he pulled her hair as he called me Sir.
No.
All of that shit felt right.
Like the epitome of right.
And that – ironically – feels wrong.
Because this shit should be wrong.
I’ve got more than a fucking decade on him in age and experience, not to mention fucking common sense.
It’s my job…my responsibility to help care for him.
Not come for him.
I need to get my shit together.
I need to get our lives back on track.
Restore order.
And stability.
And sanity.
Stop all this shit before it spirals out of control.
