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“I’m sorry, he did what now?” I exclaimed as I reached over to pause the audiobook we were listening to.
“Gunplay is a thing some people are interested in,” Nolan replied. His gaze flicked from the rearview to my face only briefly.
“No,” I said with as much conviction as I could. Just the thought of a gun going anywhere near my lady parts was horrifying. I shuddered. “No, Nolan. Just no! Have you looked at a gun recently?”
“Admittedly, I’ve never seen a gun in real life.”
“They have ridges and grooves and all the little things! Oh, God! That’d hurt, Nolan! Her poor vagina!” I ranted. God, how many times had Killian drilled gun safety into my head? “And what about gun-related accidents? If a gun is stuck up your vagina and goes off, you aren’t surviving that! You’re dying all in the name of an orgasm!”
“What if it’s like a really good orgasm?” he asked. “Would a woman be willing to die for a really good orgasm?”
“Nolan!”
“I’m asking for research purposes!”
“Nolan Callahan Byrne,” I scolded, “if you ever write a scene like that, I know where you live.”
“Sometimes, you have to write to market.” He shrugged, and I laughed. Silly little smut-writing wolf. “Did Raven get to this scene yet?”
“I don’t know, but I can ask.” Without waiting for his reply, I called Raven and put the call through the Bluetooth. Raven and Declan drove separately because they had Holly with them, which meant every once in a while I got to wave at the cutest little flannel-bandana-wearing puppy on the planet when she stuck her head out the window.
“Oh. My. God.” Raven practically shrieked when she answered the phone. My smile widened. Yeah, they got to the part. We’d decided to start the same audiobook as we drove away from Cedar Harbor—which meant Declan was stuck listening to dark romance smut. “He put the gun where?”
“I know!” I replied with equal enthusiasm. “Her poor vagina!”
“Her poor vagina? Please. What about my poor fucking ears,” Declan commented. “She signed up for that shit. The girl didn’t use her fucking safeword. She just opened her fucking legs and let him use the barrel of a gun to fuck her.”
“Did they implement a safeword?” Nolan asked while Raven giggled. “I don’t remember hearing a safeword.”
“They should’ve used a fucking safeword,” he said. “Good God, what do you have me listening to? This shit is as bad as the fucking tentacles she could feel in the back of her head.”
I wanted to say something, but I was laughing too hard to do so. Listening to and reading smut had always been a Nolan and me thing, but then we pulled Raven into it. Except, Raven decided Declan should be involved. At first, I wasn’t sure how I felt, but honestly, Declan had the best commentary ever. Recording his rants was on my social media to-do list for Nolan’s fans because he’d be a riot.
“The gun is obviously power play and risk-taking,” I said.
“His dick is risk-taking,” Raven told us. “The sheer size of him… shit, that’d scare me.”
“She couldn’t wrap her hand around it and have her fingers touch! Grab the fucking water bottle, honey!” Declan ordered. Despite it being something for Raven, Nolan grabbed one of our water bottles and did it. He cracked up as his fingers touched. “Her hands have to be unreasonably small, or his dick is bigger than a fucking water bottle! No wonder he’s using a gun. He’s not fucking her with a dick. He’s fucking her with a goddamn water bottle. The gun is prep work.”
“Why didn’t we get him in on this sooner?” I wheezed, holding a hand over my chest. My face hurt. Declan's smut rants were top-tier entertainment. Sure, he and his brothers helped Nolan write his smut scenes, but they’d never read anything other than Nolan’s books. Mostly they just gave him one of their experiences to use or recapped some shit they saw in porn.
“Shit.” Declan blew out a breath of air. “Screw monster smut and all that shit. You need to write the story of the man with the monster-sized dick that no girl will let him fuck her with. Call it the Sad Tales of Johnny’s Monstrous D.”
“Baby!”
“What? Make it a fucking parody! Every time he takes his monstrous, water bottle-sized dick out, women run the other way! It’s the non-smut story of a man’s dick.”
“I can’t…” I managed to get out. I folded over, laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. It didn’t help that Nolan was still holding the water bottle and staring at it with the utmost seriousness. His brows furrowed together as he rotated it atop the steering wheel. He was actually considering it.
“I mean… it wouldn’t be the worst idea,” Nolan said finally. “I mean, he’d have to get laid somehow.”
“Johnny the Monstrous D meets Wendy with the Loose Cunt,” Declan replied, chuckling. “Wasn’t there a book about a girl with a haunted cunt?”
“I draw my line at ghosts coming out of vaginas,” Nolan cut in. Oh, that was the line he drew in the sand.
“I think your line starts before that, Nolan,” I told him.
“Look, I have to branch out and add new ideas into the mix,” he said. That was true. “I can only write the same things so many times. It’s why I have the Dirty Talk Declan notebook.”
