Page 70 of Kicking Up Dust

Speaking of, June comes over excitedly, explaining all of the things she set up for the shower—different games and the snacks and her ideas for how the day would go, and I’m incredibly grateful, but I can’t stop thinking about how I’m going to suck Colt’s brain out through his cock later for flying out my best friends and helping his mama make this day so special for me.

Colt has other plans, apparently. None of which result in him getting the head of a lifetime. He kisses me on the cheek as he finishes packing his truck full of stuff his family spoiled baby bear with.

“Go with your friends, baby. Have fun. I’ll unload everything at the cabin and then come back for the rest.”

I pout a bit. The idea of hanging out with my friends sounds absolutely incredible, but I also want to help him unload everything into the nursery and then have some… alone time with him.

“Don’t put anything away though, okay?”

Colt chuckles, shoving the huge container of baby clothes Bailey had given us into the passenger seat where I usually sat. That was the present that had surprised me the most, if I was being honest.

“I won’t. I’ll put everything in the middle of the floor for you. Now go have fun with your friends. They fly back out tomorrow night.”

I catch him just as he’s about to head back inside, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him properly, not caring that Chelsey and Stephanie are whistling from their rental car.

“Thank you again for all of this, Colt.”

He pulls me as close as my bump will allow, melting into my hug. Sometimes, I think he’s right about the universe bringing us together. Sometimes, it feels like he needs me just as much as I need him. That maybe I’m his safe space just like he’s mine.

“I’m so happy we were able to pull it off.”

Chelsey honks the car horn and Colt huffs good-naturedly, pulling back to kiss my forehead. I finally make myself pull away and waddle over to the rental car. Colt’s hand comes up just as I’m about to reach for the door handle and pulls it open for me.

“You ladies have enough gas?” he asks the girls as I climb in the back seat.

“Half a tank,” Stephanie reports and Colt nods.

“Have fun,” he repeats for a final time. “If you guys need anything, just give me a call.”

It’s not until we sit down in the nearly empty seats of the only movie theater in town, ready to watch a film that had already been out for two years, when I open my purse and see the pack of gummy bears Colt had slipped inside at some point.

By the time I get home that night, after the movie, dinner at Cattleman’s, and hosting my friends for a few hours before sending them off to the Big House to sleep, I no longer have it in me to give Colt the best head of his life.

In fact, I barely have it in me to do anything other than lie in bed and cuddle up to my beloved pregnancy pillow with heavy eyes.

“C’n I ask you a question?” I mumble sleepily to Colt, who’s holding the book he’s reading in one hand and resting the other on my hip. He hums in response. “Would you ever want to be pegged?”

Colt chokes, coughing in a way that makes my eyes fly open in concern as he drops his book down on the bed. He waves me off when I try to sit up, catching his breath a moment later.

“Sorry, what?”

“Pegged,” I repeat, my face getting a bit hot as I sit up anyway. Maybe in all of my research, I’d picked up the wrong term. “Isn’t that what it’s called? Like if I was the one⁠—”

“Yes.”

My brows furrow. “Yes that’s what it’s called, or yes you want to do it?”

“Both,” he’s quick to say, even though he still looks mildly confused. “But what has you bringing that up?”

I shrug, picking up the book he dropped for something to do with my hands.

“Since you told me you also like guys, I’ve just been… Googling some stuff. I didn’t know if, when you were with guys, you were usually the one doing the, uh⁠—”

“I usually bottom with men,” he says with a grin, saving me from finishing my sentence. “So yeah, I’d love it if you wanted to peg me, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to, or that I’m, like… missing out on anything because I’m with you and not with a man. That’s not really how bisexuality works. At least not for me.”

“No, I know,” I say, though that concern had indeed crossed my mind. “I just…” I shrug again. “I thought it’d be kinda hot.”

“You’re damn skippy it’d be hot,” he agrees, pupils blown wide as he adjusts himself in his pants. I look down to find them tenting and feel bad. It hadn’t been my intention to get him riled up.