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"I feel the same way about you," I whisper, nibbling his lower lip.
Something pokes my belly and when I glance down, I see it’s Wesley's enormous shaft.
"Oops, Daddy." Wesley giggles as he pokes the tip of his dick. "It's hard against your nipples."
"Don't forget mine’s bigger than yours," I growl, dipping down to take his shaft in my mouth. What's the harm in blowing my boy before we return to the festivities?
"That's why I especially like you." Wesley grips my neck as I begin to blow him. "You're the only man who can make me feel so small."
Yes, this is my boy. I want to be his Daddy for a very long time.
24
UNNAMED BOY
Two days later
I take a sip of apple juice and sprawl out on the living room rug. After opening the gift bag from the wedding, I remove the alien coloring book and package of crayons Arlo gave me.
The crayons are every shade of green you can imagine, likely so you can draw pretty aliens. Gosh, Arlo is such a geek. Who else but Arlo would choose aliens as their wedding theme?
I can't believe Constantine went along with it, but that's true love for ya. It'd be way cooler if Arlo chose caterpillars.
"Okay, pretty aliens." I crack open the coloring book and flip to the first design. "Let's see what you’ve got."
Truthfully, I'm not convinced I’ll like these alien designs more than caterpillars. Benedetto bought me a coloring book from Little Land yesterday, one they ordered just for me. It has the cutest hungry caterpillars ever; the designers must've modeled it after that popular children's book.
I colored my way through watermelons, potato chips, verdant leaves, and enjoyed every picture equally. Benedetto loves that Little Land is expanding beyond the traditional princess and zoo animal books for Littles. They’re including more tomboy designs, such as construction workers, and I like it, too.
You can only play with princesses for so long. Or maybe not, if you're a Little who identifies with princesses. After living in a damn cage for most of my life, I prefer slimy, crawly things. I want a big batch of cupcakes at my wedding that have cute bugs, not a single alien.
Even my bouncy house will have giant caterpillars on it. I can't think of anything better.
After opening my package of Zebra cakes—Christian was kind enough to lend me a spare box at the wedding—I study the aliens. The first rides a spaceship through the sky, and he has big googly eyes. A small alien sits next to him, holding up his fingers for the alien in the driver's seat of the spaceship to see.
On his fourth finger on his left hand, I spot a glistening diamond ring. The diamond is in the shape of an asteroid.
"Oh my Gosh." I bring a green crayon to the picture. "Arlo made his aliens into Daddy kink. Of course he freaking did."
Goodness gracious, Arlo is a dweeb. I learned a little bit about his past at the wedding, and I was shocked to hear it. I didn't realize he grew up in Queens with a drug-addicted mother who couldn't provide food. He was barely making it and had to pay for his adult braces by himself when he met Constantine.
Apparently, Arlo tripped over a toy racecar when he entered the Little Bunny Club one night and fell flat on his face. Constantine rushed to his rescue and brought him to Gianluca to patch his ouchie. It was the sweetest story and I couldn't help but melt when I heard it. It's scary how differently Arlo’s life could've turned out without his Daddy.
Hell—I'm in the same position. What would I have done if Daddy Benedetto hadn't found me in that alley? What if his assistant hadn’t been watching the warehouse that week? I would've been up a creek without a paddle, that's for damn sure. I would've had to sleep under bridges or visit homeless shelters like Rusty, which sounds almost as bad as the warehouse.
I lose myself in coloring, taking my time with my masterpiece. I use every color in the crayon set, just to make sure my picture is as pretty as possible. When I finish, I hold it up to analyze it.
"I don't think this is what Arlo had in mind when he gave me this." I scrunch my face together as I look at the squiggles outside the spaceship. There's no conceivable reason the alien’s skin color should bleed into the stars. "I screwed up royally."
Pickles lets out a little yelp and rushes to my side.
"Hi, baby girl." I scoop her under my arm, then nuzzle her head. "Do you like my drawing? I hate to admit it, but it's pretty awful."
I try to thrust my drawing in Pickles’ face, but she ignores it. She focuses on the Zebra cakes next to my leg.
"Oh God." Rolling my eyes, I set her back on the ground. "You know, for a rescue puppy, you don't show much gratitude for the humans who take care of you. I let Benedetto know how thankful I am for him every day. I don't just cozy up to him so he'll give me treats. That's a terrible thing to do."
My chastisements fall on deaf ears. Pickles iswaymore interested in Zebra cakes than a lecture, and I have no choice but to oblige her.
