Fuck that.
I’m gonna kiss her so good, she can’t imagine life without me.
And I know what she likes.
I know she likes when I go exploring under her shirt, but her vest is tight, so I have to get it off. Except I’m fumbling with the zipper like a toddler, because I want her naked so bad, right now, that I can’t function.
All I can do is kiss her and fumble and oh, fuck me, she’s pinching my nipples, and every last inch of my skin is so fucking turned on now, I swear I’m vibrating. My dick’s straining, and who the fuck thought tight jeans were a good idea?
Her hands are everywhere, and I still can’t get the damn zipper down. My tongue’s halfway down her throat, and she’s both whimpering and giggling as she takes pity on me and helps me get the fucking vest off.
“Never wear that again,” I order as I yank her shirt up and cup those beautiful round orbs in my palms. “Or this,” I say as I slide one hand around her back and manage to actually unhook her bra in one try. “I’m taking it too.”
She laughs while she bites my shoulder. “You cannot have all of my bras.”
“I’ll buy you more. I’ll buy you a hundred. But I get them after you wear them.”
That giggle—I want to bottle it and play it on repeat every hour of the day.
Forget the roar of a crowd.
This is what I’ve been chasing my whole life.
Kami.
I drop to my knees, push her shirt up, pull her bra down, and lick her breasts until she’s panting and gasping and digging her fingers into my shoulders and sliding down the wall, legs parting, that delicious scent of aroused Kami tickling my nose.
And I’m not about to let my nose have all the fun.
So I trail my fingers down her sides and dip them under the waistband of her jeans until she’s panting my name.
“I’m going to take these off you, and I’m going to devour your pussy,” I tell her.
“Yes,” she gasps.
Her knees are wobbling on either side of my shoulders while I kiss and lick and suck my way down below her belly button, pulling her jeans and panties down inch by inch until I can bury my face in that sweet little triangle of perfection between her thighs.
“Ohmygod—cow—watching—yes!”
I get one of her legs free, and I hook it over my shoulder to open her for me.
And there it is.
That beautiful pussy glistening and ready for me.
Touching it last night wasn’t enough.
I lick her seam, and she shudders and moans and tilts her hips into my mouth. “Oh, god, Nick,” she moans.
I treat her clit to the same grazing her lips got moments ago, and she bucks against me. “More,” she gasps.
“Oh, I think I’m gonna take my time and enjoy this,” I tell her slick folds. I part her with my thumbs and lick her all the way up again, and yeah, I could totally do this every day.
For the rest of my life.
And it’s not scary. The idea of being with Kami—just Kami—forever doesn’t make me feel trapped.
No, I feel free. Like I’m soaring.
And I’m gonna eat Kami like she’s never been eaten before, because I don’t have a lot to offer, but I’m a fucking god when it comes to—
“I told you kids to leave my cow alone!” my mother suddenly screams, and then it’s wet.
Everything’s wet.
Kami’s shrieking and leaping away from me and trying to cover her cooch and lunging behind the cow, who decides to charge and moo and holy fuck, I have to throw myself against the wall to avoid taking a hoof to the leg.
Mom’s firing a super soaker, and it’s fucking cold, and I’m not in a shirt, and my dick’s throbbing, and she’s still yelling too.
“She’s an animal with feelings and rights and—ohmygod, NICHOLAS?”
I swipe the water off my face and I’m trying really hard not to glare at my mother for cock-blocking me, but it’s fucking hard when my jeans are soaked and weighing down a two-ton erection that’s not getting any relief now because Kami just snatched her own wet jeans from under Sugarbear, and she can’t quite crouch low enough to not be recognized.
“KAMI?” my mother screeches. “Nicholas Archibald Murphy, why are you go—lick—aaaaahh. You leave Felicity’s friends alone, do you hear me? AND QUIT MAKING OUT IN MY COW SHED.”
She leaves as fast as she came, slamming the door behind her.
Sugarbear’s mooing so hard and fast she’s gonna give herself a stroke.
I can’t tell if Kami’s laughing or crying.
Or both.
“Oh my god, your mother saw my vagina,” she moans
“Probably not,” I say. “I mean, my head was in the way.”
“That’s not any better. Oh my god, I can’t get my pants on. They’re soaked. Dripping. Sugarbear, I am so sorry. I promise I’m going to find you a home where people like me don’t try to have sex in your bedroom.”
“Kami—”
“I can never look your mother in the eye again.” She pops just the top half of her head over the top of Sugarbear’s back, and her brown eyes are huge and horrified and she’s blinking really fast, like she’s definitely trying not to cry.
“You know, odds are pretty good that my dad has—”
“Do not finish that sentence if you want to live,” she screeches.
“You are so grounded, young man!” my mother hollers outside the shed. She’s still muttering, and it’s probably something about either telling my father, or being really fucking grateful that she’s not telling my father.
“I told you she was my girlfriend,” I yell back.
“No one believed you!” she shrieks. “We thought you were pranking us because this is too good to be true!”
“I’m buying that farm tomorrow,” I tell Kami. “We can do it with cows and chickens and—”
And there’s the laugh I’ve been looking for.
It’s a little high and tight and unhinged, but it’s a laugh. “You are so very, very wrong,” she huffs out.
“I’m not afraid to get hay stuck in my butt cheeks if that’s what you’re into.”
“Where’s my vest? And my purse? I need to call a Lyft.”
“We could take this back to your place,” I offer. “I probably shouldn’t sleep here tonight either. Bad vibes. Might fuck with my game brain.”
Also, I’m pretty sure I can’t whack off in my parents’ basement shower without knowing that my mother will realize that’s exactly what I’m doing, so even if Kami’s not planning on letting me anywhere near her pussy again tonight, I still can’t sleep here.
I am definitely buying a farm first thing in the morning.
“I need to get some sleep. I’m neutering three dogs tomorrow, including putting neuticles implants on one, and I need to not be that vet who screws the pooch. As they say.”
I wince. “Okay, that’s helping the boner situation.”
She glances down at my crotch, and one of her sorry smiles wrinkles her face. “I’d offer to work that out for you quick, but your mother would probably come back with the whole hose, and poor Sugarbear’s already traumatized.”
The cow’s huddling against Kami, trapping her between the back wall and the shelves. And she’s still snorting out moos while Kami rubs her back.
I’m jealous of a fucking cow right now.
I grab my shirt—which is relatively dry, though it still smells like liquor and beer—and check out the door. “She’s gone. C’mon. I’ll drive you home.”
Kami lifts a brow.
I grin.
What can I say? I’m ever the optimist.
Thirty-Five
Kami
After guilting Muffy into checking on my dogs for me, I spend the night at my parents’ place, because there’s no reason for Nick to spend another hour on the road when he can drop me five minutes away.
And spending the night at his parents’ place is not an option.
For every reason under the sun.
I roll out of my parents’ guest bed—they’ve converted my brother’s bedroom to an office for Dad, my sister’s bedroom to a photography room for Mom, and my bedroom to an adorable guest bedroom decorated with Dalmatians—and stumble downstairs with every intention of raiding the fridge.
I don’t care if I’m thirty or seventy-three, it will always be appropriate to raid my parents’ fridge. It’s a life rule.
However, when I walk into the kitchen, I realize I’m not the only one with designs on my parents’ food.
Muffy’s there. With Aunt Hilda. And Maren.
This is…unexpected.
Muffy’s in crazy curly bedhead and red footie pajamas, her feet stuffed into Ugg boots, and she’s scowling over a cup of coffee at the kitchen table. Aunt Hilda’s in a pink boa, sunglasses with flamingoes at the edges and pink lenses, pink leather knee boots, black leggings decorated with ghosts and pumpkins, and an oversize Christmas sweatshirt with Buddy the Elf.
Maren’s in work clothes.
She looks oddly out of place. Not that Aunt Hilda and Muffy look in place, but the three of them are a weird combination.
“Um…” I start, because I’m hungry, tired, and borderline mad at myself for not just saying fuck it and sneaking into Nick’s bedroom for some hanky-panky last night.
Aunt Hilda leaps up, knocking the table and making Muffy’s second mug of coffee slosh over the edge. “Kami! Oh, my sweet niece. I am so sorry for my big mouth.”
“It’s okay,” I start, but she grabs me in a huge hug.
“Muffy yelled at me the whole ride home. I forget this is like that time she got kicked out of med school for sleeping with her professor.”
“Mother,” Muffy grits out. She’s always been cagey about the reason she left med school. I’ve always assumed she’d tell me if she wanted me to know.