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“Do I need to sneak off to the bathroom with you so I can eat your pussy for an appetizer?”
She squeezes her knees tightly together as a blush creeps up her face.
“I’d tongue fuck you right now until you screamed. On second thought, best not to… I’d hate for everyone to know what you sound like when you come for me.”
Her breathing goes erratic. At that moment, Brax says, “What are you whispering about over there?”
Exton arrives at that point, and as he makes his way to me, I ask Livy quietly, “You wet, Pix?”
Livy nods from my peripheral vision as Exton comes in for a handshake. “Glad you’re home, Layton. I have an update for you when you’re ready.”
“Thanks, Ex. I can’t wait to hear. I saw several text messages but I haven’t read them yet.”
He plops down on the sofa next to me and places Willa’s feet on his lap, gently massaging them. It’s something so natural between them that I wonder if they know they do it. No sooner does he switch to the other foot, as Pop calls, “Dinner is ready. Come and get it.”
We pile into the kitchen and load up our plates. You can see the effort Pop made to ensure Livy has something to eat. Two kinds of coleslaw, one with no mayo. Marinated tofu. Brussels sprouts with balsamic. Tomato, cucumber, and onion salad. And a fruit salad that looks delicious.
Of course, there’s brisket I’d bet Braxton smoked all day and chicken too.
When we’ve all sat, the conversation hits an awkward pause. No one wants to say “How was rehab, Layton? What’s it like?” And since I’m not volunteering, the silence continues.
When it’s gone a little too long, Livy pipes up, “I’m thinking of having a birthday party for Layton next week. Any reason we can’t do it on Monday?”
How does she know about my birthday? And when is hers? Shit. Please don’t let it have been in the last month.
“I’ve got nothing but time. Tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.” Pop is the first to reply.
“The three of us will be there,” Willa offers. “That’s fun to say,” she adds to Exton, who stares at her as if she hung the moon.
Bright turns to Elias, and some secret communication passes between them. “We’re in,” she says.
Braxton and Emberleigh start at the same time, “We can—” They turn and wait for the other to finish the thought.
“We’d love to,” Emberleigh says.
“Speaking of invites, we’ll be doing something on New Year’s Eve. Can we count you in?”
The silent-couple communication I watched before happens again with the same result.
“Absolutely.”
“Count us in.”
“We’d love to.”
“Sure.”
“Good.” Braxton exhales. “Because Emberleigh has finally decided to make an honest man out of me, and we’d like you all there to witness the event.”
The table erupts with cheers and well-wishes. I take the opportunity to slide my hand onto Livy’s leg and let my pinky explore her bikini line, skirting to her core and retreating.
Under her napkin, she releases her thighs, giving me access.
Taking what I can get, I let my fingers trail her center and fail to suppress an audible groan. She freezes, but I merely look at the table and say, “This brisket is perfect, Brax. Wow.” I stab a piece of the beef and chew. “So moist.”
* * *
Livy
