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Hell, I’d bribe whatever fucking god I had to.
Is there a sex god? And does he or she accept IOUs? I was a little too naked to store money anywhere—at least, not comfortably.
Cassie’s hips started to sway to my mental music, and the perfect line of her mouth curved up with wicked intent.
There’s definitely a sex god.
I fought a shiver as all the things that sexy look meant played in my head. Memories. Fantasies. Combinations of the two and everything I knew I couldn’t conjure in my mind no matter how hard I tried.
I had just closed my eyes against the onslaught of hormones that a dancing, nearly naked Cassie produced when a sharp cry pierced the seduction balloon we’d been working so hard to inflate.
We both froze solid, Cassie in a near crouch, one hand grabbing vulgarly at the completely bare space between her legs, a pink-tipped finger poised to make its journey inside.
“Shh,” I commanded nearly silently, hoping that little Ace was putting out nothing more than a sleepy false alarm. Several seconds bled into a deceptive spell of calm.
My muscles ached from trying to stay still, and even my face remained stuck in the contorted, completely unromantic grimace of a man who couldn’t take a breath for fear his overengorged balls might explode. Seemingly, just as quickly as I started to relax, a second cry rent the air and dashed all of my hopes, dreams, and dirty imaginings in one fell swoop.
“Shit,” Cassie whispered as she pushed off the bed and pulled her underwear up to cover all of the things that should never be covered.
“I’ll go,” I offered, jumping from the bed and shoving my legs and erection into the unforgiving fabric of my still damp board shorts. They’d done nothing more than lay unattended on the floor last night after my late-night swim. My wife was a goddess, taking baby duty for me so I could get in a little exercise. I’d planned to reward her with this very form of enjoyable exercise last night, but the little guy had straight up refused to give in to the Sandman no matter how much Metallica I sang. But he’d finally fallen asleep now…or so we thought. “Me and our boy have to have a talk anyway.”
It was time for him to learn one of the foremost rules of manhood, the crux of everything I wanted to instill in a son, and it had to do with a pledge to abstain from cockblocking. He needed to know that a woman had every right to say no, should exercise it freely and often, and that if he ever felt that way, that he didn’t want to go forward with a sexual encounter, he should feel confident in his ability to say no too.
But what he shouldn’t do, ever, was be the third party, the outsider to a pair of consenting adults hoping desperately to make love or bang or fuck like rabbits or any form of the above, that stopped said activity from happening.
It was the absolute definition of “not cool, bro.” And in my humble opinion, no kid was too young to learn such an important lesson.
“Good,” Cassie huffed, opening the door to the bedroom and walking out into the living room of our suite with no top. Her feet made an adorably small amount of noise, much to her chagrin, as she stomped her way from there to the bathroom and pulled a puffy robe off of the hook. “You handle the kid.”
I smiled at her mock-disdain for our precious son and headed in the direction of his room as she moved toward the main door to the hotel hallway. “And where are you going?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” she yelled over her shoulder as she made her grand exit into the public hallway, breasts still out in the open as her robe flew out behind her.
I chuckled as I first heard a thud, and then the completely unnecessary apology of a family man—someone else’s family man—caught off guard by the luscious, perfect chest of my wife. I didn’t think she even paused, but as the door slammed shut, I couldn’t be entirely sure.
Still smiling, I padded my way into the dark room of my son and pulled his writhing body from the crib to tuck him against my chest. His eyes were sleepy despite his cries, so I gave him a few minutes of cuddles and bonding before hitting him with the hard stuff.
When his eyes changed from tiny slits to ovals, I knew the time was ripe for some Kelly-style tough love. “What’s the deal, dude?”
He didn’t answer, something that was interesting considering he was a baby genius. Sure, most kids couldn’t cogitate at this point, but mine was different—as expected. He was the descendant of my DNA, after all.
“I get your need for attention,” I told him as I sat down on the couch and pulled him away from my body enough that we could look one another in the eye. “I’m a bit of a seeker of it, myself.”
He nodded his head in understanding, or as a result of underdeveloped neck muscles, and smiled with a giggle as the edge of my lips curled up.
“Sometimes, it’s even appropriate. Anytime you’re with your Uncle Kline or your Uncle Wes—”
“A bit of an attention-seeker, huh?” Kline asked from his casual lean in the doorway.
“Jesus,” I said with a jolt.
“Mary and Joseph,” Georgia added, as she pushed Kline out of the way and pulled my baby from my arms. “You’ll learn all about them in church.”
“What are you… How long have you been here?”
“Since your wife rudely barged in on us in bed,” Georgia said with a grimace-like smile and artificially cheery voice, her face directly in Ace’s.
“You cockblocked them?” I asked incredulously.
Oh, there’s irony in this.
Cassie waved it off and sank onto the couch beside me, utterly exhausted. “I didn’t cockblock them. The first time, I kindly waited outside their bedroom until they finished boning. And the second time, they were already dressed.”
“Cass—”
“I’m happy to report his dick is big, though.”
I started to laugh, and Kline looked down to hide his smile from his nearly apoplectic wife.
“You’re so twisted!” Georgia whisper-yelled, reaching up to cover one of Ace’s ears. “Stop barging in on us, and stop talking about my husband’s P-E-N-I-S.”
“Our kid can spell,” I offered jovially, and Georgia nearly hit the roof.
“You’re so perfect for one another it’s despicable!”
“Aw, Wheorgie,” Cassie cooed sleepily. “That’s so sweet.”
“That wasn’t a compliment!”
“Really?” Cassie questioned before turning to me. “Sounded like one to me.”
I shrugged. “Me too.”
“I supremely dislike you both.”
“Whatever,” Cassie murmured, sliding down and curling up with her head on my thigh. “Just watch our kid, and you can hate us all you want.”
Georgia’s eyes narrowed at Cassie’s pointed use of the word she’d been so careful to avoid. My eyebrows rose with my effort to school my features into something normal, something neutral, and Kline took it as his cue to step in.
“Come on, Benny. Let’s let them sleep or role-play or whatever it is they’re looking to do.”
“But I’m not done yelling at them!” she whispered.
Kline’s eyes flared with enjoyment. “How about you finish when you can actually yell? Sound like a good compromise?”
She took a deep breath and wiggled her head back and forth, but it was useless even if she found the ability to yell, Cassie already lay sound asleep on my thigh.
“Shh,” I emphasized, and just as I’d planned, I thought Georgia would officially lose it.
Kline shook his head at me and bugged out his eyes. I only felt half bad.
“Come on, baby. Let’s go spend time with Ace. I promise,” he whispered as he leaned into her ear and inhaled. It was an act of a man in love and one I practiced daily. “I’ll make sure you get yours back.”
And, that. Well, that scared me a little. Kline was entirely too smart for my good—and I didn’t think that would ever change.
As they stepped out of the room, Kline waved with a smile and I moved my gaze to the side of my wife’s peaceful face.
We were finally, finally alone, and I was more than ready for action.
But my wife was asleep for the first time in two days, and when I looked at the dark circles under her beautiful eyes, I couldn’t do anything other than accept my now universal truth.
This was what my wife needed—and I’d do everything I could to give it to her.
“Oh, c’mon, Daddy,” I whined and straddled Thatch’s naked body. I ground my pussy against the Supercock and let out the greedy little moans I knew he loved so much. “Just one more time. Pretty please?”
He threw an arm over his eyes. “You’re going to break my dick, honey.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”
“I’m not being dramatic.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I’m being a realist. Me coming again is a physical impossibility at this point.”
My husband was being a big old drama queen. The Supercock might still have been wet from our last fantastic bone session, but he was already getting excited between my persistent thighs.
I looked down and grinned, watching with fascination as the head of my favorite appendage slid between where I throbbed and ached for more. “Are you sure about that, Daddy?” The instant the word Daddy left my mouth, he got even harder.
