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THE OUTSKIRTS DUET BOOK 2
LINKS
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2vpfg28
Amazon UK: https://goo.gl/xCNTKr
Amazon AU: https://goo.gl/C24pXa
And keep reading for deleted PREPPY scenes.
Bonus Preppy Scenes
DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THE KING SERIES *CONTAINS SPOILERS*
BONUS EPILOGUE FROM PREPPY PART THREE
Preppy
"It's official. I'm fucking old," I said, clicking off the TV and dropping the remote like I'd become suddenly allergic to it.
"Why?" Dre asked from the kitchen where she was making a batch of Mirna's famous chocolate chip cookies.
I crossed my arms over my chest like a child and stuck out my lower lip. Even I realized I looked like a pissy child in the reflection of the TV, but I didn't give a shit. This was a serious issue. "Because I was watching the music awards and didn't know who a single one of the artists walking the red carpet were. And you know, as a self- proclaimed pop-culture connoisseur I feel like a failure."
Dre suddenly appeared in front of me with her gigantic baby belly blocking my line of sight. I never really understood the guys with the pregnancy fetishes until Dre's stomach started to grow with our twins. I reached up and splayed my hands out on her belly, and my cock started reacting to her nearness.
"Poor baby," Dre said, spatula in hand. "I have something I think might make it better."
"Oh, I know you do," I said, sucking on my bottom lip and pulling my wife into my lap. Dre gasped when she felt my hard cock against her ass. "And I have something for you as well."
Suddenly the front door burst open, and Bo came running into the room. "Hey, buddy," I greeted as Bo set his backpack down on the floor and grabbed a fingerful of cookie dough from the bowl on the counter.
Dre attempted to get up from my lap, but I held her in place. She raised an eyebrow at me, and I glanced down to my crotch. She smiled knowingly, her red lips parting revealing just the slightest hint of pink tongue. A pink tongue I wanted on my... I groaned when I realized that the situation wasn't going to get any better if she remained on my lap. I guided her back to a standing position and used a couch pillow to cover my situation from our son.
Bo hugged his mom and plopped down on the floor in front of me. He grabbed the discarded remote and clicked the TV back on. "You know who any of these people are?" I asked, pointing to the screen where some guy wearing a giant blue mouse head just won an award for most authentic emo video.
Whatever the fuck that was.
Bo nodded and signed the name of the artist to me.
"The fuckers name is Big Blue Bunny?" I asked, scrunching my face at the screen. "Does he ever show his face?"
"No," Bo answered using both his sign language and his voice.
"What a twat-waffle," I muttered, tossing the pillow to the side now that my dick was under control. Shit, after seeing Big Blue Bunny win his award I think Little Preppy would be out of commission for at least...thirty minutes or so.
Bo glanced up at Dre as she brought in a tray of cookies into the living room and placed them on the coffee table. "What happened?" she asked knowingly.
Bo visibly flinched.
"Go get it," I said, waiting as Bo stood up and retrieved a familiar pink slip from his backpack. He handed it to me first then swiped a cookie from the tray and sat back down.
"How bad is it this time?" Dre asked, with a hand on her hip and her eyes firmly on Bo.
I read from the slip out loud. "Bo is showing signs of academic improvement every single day. However, when asked what he wanted to do when he grows up he stood up in class and answered..." I stopped reading and glanced up at Dre.
"What did he say?" Dre asked, snatching the slip from my hands. When she read what I did, we exchanged a knowing glance. "Bo, please go to your room while we discuss your punishment."
Bo dropped his shoulders and trudged to his room. I winked at him so his mother couldn't see and he stood back up straight. Once his door clicked shut I followed Dre out back, down the steps of the deck, and over to the side of the house where we knew he couldn't hear us.
And then we laughed.
"Maybe you shouldn't have told him that story," Dre said, tears pouring down her face.
"It was a history lesson about me and his Uncle King. I couldn't not tell him."
"Yeah, but you could have left out the part in the story where you said you were going to 'get bitches' when you grew up."
"I could have left it out, but that was like a really big part," I said, barely able to get the words out of my mouth because of my own fit of laughter.
"He's his father's son," Dre said, finally able to catch her breath. I looked into her beautiful eyes and pulled her against me. Every single time I touched her, it was like the first time. The excitement never died down, and neither did my cock.
"He is," I said, pressing a feather-lite kiss to her lips. "Which is why we both agree on the names for the babies."
Dre groaned and rolled her eyes. "Those names are NOT going to happen."
"Of course, they are," I said flattening my palms around her belly.
"We will talk about them later. Right now, we should go back in," Dre said, her pupils dilating. She was just as turned on as I was.
I grabbed her by the hand and lead her back into the house where we headed to Bo's room to have a serious conversation with him about his actions at school. Then after he went to bed, I planned on convincing Dre with my tongue that the names Bo and I had agreed on for the babies were most definitely happening.
Twins. Girls.
I couldn't have been happier.
Later that night, well after I'd won the war of the baby names using sexual torture techniques that were probably illegal in some states, I laid my hands on my sleeping wife's belly and whispered. "I can't wait to meet you, Miley and Taylor."
ALTERNATE DRE/PREPPY MEETING
PREPPY
“Why me?” She asked, looking up from the paper I just handed her and then back over to me.
“Because you’re the only girl I know in Logan’s Beach who still has two separate nostrils and doesn’t always look like you just got plowed in a gas station bathroom.” I explained.
As much as I hated my hometown when I was a kid, I’d grown to love it. It’s where I thrived. Where I was meant to be. If someone came along and offered me a shit ton of money to move out of Logan’s Beach I’d pass. The only place that’s ever felt like a real home to me was the house on stilts that I lived in with my buddy King– and sometimes Bear–when he wasn’t doing all his biker shit with his MC, the Beach Bastards.
More like Beach Bitches. His old man had turned it into a house of white trash thugs instead of an MC. A big bunch of leather wearing dick bags.
