Page 45 of Kicking Up Dust

“What feels better? My fingers or my mouth? I wanna make you feel good.”

“Just don’t stop,” she breathes, eyes squeezing shut and I know enough to know that when someone says not to stop during sex, you damn well better listen.

Her cunt chokes my fingers a few seconds later and I groan against her thigh, remembering exactly what that felt like around my cock. Maybe if I’m a good boy, she’ll let me feel that again sometime soon.

I pull my fingers free as she comes down, wrapping my lips around them to suck off the taste while Blair catches her breath, eyes closed.

“Going to get a washcloth,” I tell her as I slip out of the room and into the hall.

“She’s loud,” Bailey snarks quietly as she leaves the bathroom moments before I reach the door.

“She’s having a good time,” I counter, cocky.

My twin scoffs and I step in front of her so she can’t pass.

“Do you have an issue with her?”

“No,” she says, crossing her arms but staring over my shoulder to avoid my eyes. She could get around me if she wanted to. I can’t count the number of times I’ve had my nipple twisted because I was blocking her in, or play-wrestling too hard, or some other offense.

“You sure? Because I’d really like it if you two could get along. You’re both really, really fucking important to me.”

Bailey’s face softens a bit, her eyes finally meeting mine.

“I don’t have a problem with her, Colt. I promise. I’m just—” Whatever she was going to say, she cuts herself off. “I’ll make more of an effort.”

“Okay. Thank you, Bail. Love you,” I tell her, pulling her in for a one-armed hug while very pointedly keeping my right hand away from her.

“Love you, too. Go wash your hands. They smell like pussy.”

By the time I get the washcloth back to Blair, she’s asleep. I wash her as gently as I can, before tossing the rag in my hamper and slipping back into the bed with her. She grumbles as I try to rearrange her so she’ll be more comfortable, but after countless nights of her falling asleep while we were watching her show together, I know she’s a deep sleeper… when it’s not raining, that is.

“Shh, roll onto your side, mama. You’ll be more comfortable.”

She doesn’t argue, rolling over and letting me spoon her from behind.

“G’night, cowboy,” she mumbles sleepily.

I press a kiss to her temple. “Goodnight, pretty girl.”

TWENTY-FOUR

BLAIR

The breakfast table is awkward the next morning when I take a seat. Colt has already eaten and gone, usually up just as the sun rises, if not sooner. Only his mama and sisters are at the breakfast table.

“Good morning,” I greet, waddling into the kitchen. I’m not anywhere near pregnant enough to be waddling, but my knees and hips are so freaking stiff and painful first thing in the morning. I’ve been meaning to ask June about it, but it’s never seemed like a good time to bother her. She always seems so busy.

“Morning!” Tate says with an overly large grin.

Bailey snorts as she takes a sip of coffee. I hope she’s laughing at Tate, not at me, but it’s hard to tell with her. I swear she hates me, but Colt promises she doesn’t.

“I bet it is a good morning,” Kenny quips.

“Kendall Cheyenne!” June scolds, turning from the counter with her hands on her hips. Her cheeks are pink.

I feel like I’m left out of some joke, but also somehow the center of it.

“What am I missing?”