Lachlan stares at me for a moment then lets out a full-bodied laugh that shakes his shoulders and lights up his whole face. The hat wobbles dangerously but somehow stays put. “Nobody actually says ‘Och aye the noo.’ That’s pure tourist nonsense. But...” His grin softens. “Good pronunciation of ‘och.’ I’m impressed.”
I reach out to straighten the crooked hat then trace the taut lines of his abs, his skin hot beneath my fingertips, muscles tightening in response. His breath hitches.
“Now that I’ve impressed you with my pronunciation,” I whisper, fingers drifting higher, through the dark hair on his chest, “how about I impress you with something else?”
I lift the hat with a flourish and settle it back on his head. Then I wrap one hand around the base of his cock, marvelling as he stiffens even more in my grip. My other hand cups his balls, giving them a slow, teasing squeeze.
“You’re all mine now, captain.”
Then I take him into my mouth, and the groan that rips from him—raw, desperate—sends heat pooling deep and urgent between my thighs.
Monday
“Do you have blonde hair?” I ask, peering over my board.
“Nope.”
I flip down all the yellow-headed cartoon faces, the plastic tiles clacking into place. Finn and I are sprawled on his carpet, deep into a game ofGuess Who?while Lachlan freshens up after work. Funny how different things are now. In the early days of looking after Finn, I’d make a quick exit the moment his father came home. Now I stay for dinner each evening like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Finn doesn’t even comment on it anymore, just expects it. And Gus, who usually parks himself at my feet during mealtimes, seems equally convinced I belong.
Finn taps his chin, staring at his board. “Hmm... do you wear glasses?”
“Yep.”
He flips down the characters without glasses, gives a little sigh, and drops his chin into his hands. Not exactly the picture of enthusiasm, which isn’t like him.
I push myself upright. “What’s wrong, buddy?”
“It’s Monday.” He lets out another sigh, this one worthy of a Shakespearean tragedy, and rolls onto his back like life is just too heavy to bear. “That means chilli.”
“Oh yeah? Well, not tonight. Becauseguess who’smaking dinner?”
Finn peers up at me, brow furrowed. “You?”
“Me. And I’m not making chilli. I’m making pizza.”
He blinks, then flips onto his stomach and scrambles up, his whole face lighting like I’ve just promised him a trip to Disney World. “Pizza? Homemade pizza?”
“Yep. Dough and everything. Want to help me make it?”
Finn squeals, and Gus lifts his head, ears pricked, gaze darting between us like he’s desperate not to be left out.
Footsteps creak on the landing and then Lachlan fills the doorway, hair damp from the shower, looking ridiculously good in a long-sleeved white T-shirt and dark sweatpants.
“Da!” Finn bounds over to him. “Blair says she’s making dinner! Is that okay?”
Lachlan strokes his beard like he’s giving it serious thought, even though he and I already agreed this. “Hmm. Breaking tradition, are we? I suppose...” His lips twitch. “I’ll allow it.”
Finn whoops, and Gus joins in with a couple of happy barks.
“Shall we get started?” I ask Finn.
“Yes!”
Wednesday
Lachlan’s bed rocks with a relentless rhythm as he drives into me from behind, his grip fierce on my waist, fingers biting into my skin. Each thrust sparks through me, winding the tension tighter and tighter until I can barely keep it together. A moan slips free before I can stop it. He feels so damn good, so deep like this.
“Shh,” he growls in my ear, slowing just enough to make me ache. “How many times do I have to remind you to be quiet?”
