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“So?” I drawl, my eyes raking over her gorgeous body. My dick is so hard, it’s already leaking in my jeans. How can that be possible? I’ve cum inside her so many times in the last few days I’ve actually lost count. I’d assume my balls are empty at this point. Guess not.
She presses a hand to my chest, pushing me back as she steps off the stairs. “Courthouse isn’t open today, baby.”
God, I love her.“That’s not a no,” I murmur, watching her ass swish back and forth as she steps around me. Reaching down, I adjust my aching dick, already knowing it’s useless. Jeans are becoming a real problem for me at this point. Maybe I should switch over to sweats permanently.
“I thought you said we were late,” she calls, winking at me over her shoulder. Groaning, I jog past her, slapping her ass as I go. She screeches, and I smile.
“Grab Tank. I’ll load the beast.”
“Stop calling our dog a beast!” she screeches, scooping Tank up into her arms with all the care in the world as she coos at him.
Our dog.
Fuck. Will it ever stop being so perfect?
I hope not.
“Oh my god! He did what?” Shiloh cries as she wipes her tears of laughter away. “Are you serious?”
Charlie nods, taking another drink of his beer. “Yes, and he wore it like that for months.”
“It’s not my fault,” I bark, running my fingers through my wayward hair. I tug on the strands, making sure it’s all intact as awful memories of me with a mohawk flash before my eyes. “He dared me!”
“You didn’t have to do it!” Charlie shouts, his hands flying up as if to defend himself. “Just because I dared you to shave your head doesn’t mean shit!”
“Language!” Mom chastises, but the smile behind her glass of iced tea gives her away. “And your brother is right, Lo. A dare or not, that was a terrible decision on your part.”
“What did you expect me to do? Its code. Don’t crap out on a dare, or the next one will be ten times worse.” I say vehemently, knowing that’s exactly what would have happened if I’d chickened out.
Shiloh looks at me, a wide smile on her perfect, round face. She’s barely wearing any makeup. Just some black stuff on her eyes that makes her lashes look big and long and some pink lipstick that makes her full lips damn near pornographic.
“I don’t understand,” she mumbles, her brows pinched together adorably. My thumb sweeps across her neck, loving the feel of her skin beneath mine. She shivers. I smirk. She rolls her eyes. “If he dared you to shave your head bald, how did you end up with a mohawk?”
“Because he was a pussy,” Charlie cuts in unhelpfully.
“Charles Robert Huxley! I’m going to put you in the corner for a time out if you keep talking that trash!” Mom shouts. All three of us boys cringe, knowing she absolutely has the power to do that, even if we’re all in our thirties.
He drops his head, a picture of apology. “Sorry, mama.”
“Anyways,” Stephen drawls, bringing us back to the ridiculous topic. “He started shaving his head but freaked out halfway through when he heard mom and dad come home. He threw all his hair down the sink drain and wore a beanie for a week.”
“Clogged that sink, too,” Dad grunts. “Had to rip out the whole pipe.”
Shiloh falls into a fit of giggles. The sound is both angelic and boner-inducing. Fuck. I’d barely just gotten the thing to chill out. “You’re just lucky you started on the sides instead of the middle.”
I groan, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. I tighten my arm around Shiloh’s shoulders, tugging her into my side. She laughs again, listening as Stephen prattles on about some other stupid bullshit dare they gave me when we were kids. My heart fills near to bursting as I watch her interact with my family.
She fits in perfectly.
Looking up, I find my Mom’s watchful stare, a proud, emotional smile on her face. She subtly tilts her chin toward the kitchen. I jerk a nod.
“I’m going to go get another round of drinks. Logan, come help me.” She stands, patting my dad on the shoulder as she passes through the living room. He looks up, smiling at her like she’s his whole world. My dad has looked at my Mom that way every day of their lives together, I have no doubt. He loves her more than life itself.
Looking at Shiloh, I can understand the feeling.
Leaning in, I tuck my face in her neck. I breathe in her sweet, frosting scent and barely stifle a moan. “Be right back, Babydoll,” I murmur, pressing my lips to her neck. She shudders, then nods.
“Jesus, leave the girl alone, Logan,” Stephen grunts. “She’ll be fine for five minutes.”
