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“Sounds just like on TV,” I whisper, dispirited, glancing out the window.
“We’ll find him.” He reaches over, squeezes my leg. “You’ll see.”
I nod, looking out the window, taking the small comfort even if I’m not so sure I should be getting my hopes up. It’s been a while. The odds of Xavier turning up, alive and well, are dropping by the day.
“Meow,” someone says from the back.
Meow?
I turn around in my seat, looking back, glad for the distraction. “Was that… a cat?”
Brylee pats a plastic pink box. A pet carrier? “We needed to balance out the numbers.”
“Numbers?” I glance at Ryan. “Did you know about this?”
“Why, are you allergic to cats?” he asks.
I shrug. “Never had the chance to find out.”
“Now it’s two boys and two girls,” Brylee says.
Two pussies.
My hard-on returns at the thought, and I swallow a groan, leaning back in my seat and chewing on the inside of my cheek.
Not sure how this weekend will play out. So far nothing is going as I imagined—though not in a bad way—and we’re only half an hour in.
Christ.
And it keeps getting more interesting. As I’m half-dozing, the road ahead a blur, Ryan asks Brylee questions about her pussy.
At least that’s how it sounds like to my sleep-addled brain, and I force my eyes open, intrigued.
“How come you have a pussy named Fluff?”
“She’s fluffy. Lots of fluff.”
“Now, I thought women shave their pussies these days. How come yours isn’t?”
What. The. Fuck.
“Shave cats?” Brylee sounds horrified. “Is that a new fad? That’s so cruel.”
Oh. Damn.
“How would I know?” Ryan says, perfectly serious. “I don’t have a pussy. It’s not a man thing.”
“I know men who like them,” she says.
I shake my head and rub a hand over my face. “I’m a fan.”
Ryan snorts. “I’ll bet.”
“Hey, I’m an equal opportunities sort of guy. Pussies and—”
“And?” Brylee sticks her head between us, putting her hands on our arms, and I lose my train of thought. Her soft hair tickles my cheek, her small hand strokes down my arm, and I feel it through the layers of cloth. “What else, huh?”
She smirks at me, her eyes laughing. I can’t even… this girl.
