Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
I furrowed my brow. Sometimes I didn’t understand him.
“Your last drunken mistake took place yesterday—with your brother-in-law—and you’re already fixin’ to make a new mistake?”
He frowned at me. “Just because I got railed by an orange last night doesn’t mean it’s a bad idea to sleep with two apples, Sir.”
I choked out a laugh, and I had to pull him in for a hug. “You brat. Fair enough.” I kissed his temple. “What if you played with two pears and their li’l dragon fruit instead?”
Mack snapped up his head and narrowed his eyes at me.
I smiled.
He really was fucking beautiful, this boy. I’d had a soft spot for Macklin essentially since the day Luke introduced us. Back then, he’d been, what, twenty or twenty-one? Already so certain he was a switch. Already making bold plans to open his own restaurant. And, of course, head over heels in love with Walker.
Just before they’d broken up, Walker had come to me, admitting Luke and I were the only ones he’d like to share Macklin with. But they’d never crossed that line in the end.
“So Kit finally confessed his fantasies,” Macklin murmured. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to include me? I got the impression he’s interested in Greer and you together.”
“That too. But he has a crush on you and Corey.”
He stood a little taller at that and smiled lazily. “Seriously? He’s so goddamn adorable. Count me in for anything that includes you three. Whenever, wherever.”
I chuckled and kissed him on the forehead before I eased off. “Always our favorite slut. You can start by flirtin’ with him. He’s probably too shy to take the first step.”
“I’d be happy to,” he replied, already looking more upbeat. “So what’re the boundaries?”
“You and Kit end up thoroughly fucked.” I gave his cheek a light smack and then descended the steps. “He says you’re the perfect candidate for a hot, dirty big brother, so…”
“Jesus—I love that boy’s mind.”
I grinned. So did I. “Come on. We can talk limits while we help Archie and Cam in the basement. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Sir, yes, Sir.”
5
We actually managed to squeeze in all nineteen of us around the dining room table that supposedly only seated twelve. Of course, it helped that Noa sat on KC’s lap, Corey sat on Greer’s, and the Tenley triad shared two chairs.
“Before we dig in!” Luke called out as the last guests took their seats. Good thing we had the buffet set up in the kitchen. It’d be too crowded otherwise. “Colt, Kit, and I just want to say we’re so happy you’re here. When Kit suggested we host a holiday party, he didn’t know we usually have one every year at the house. So it’s been a fun month of sharing stories of our traditions—”
“I’d like to scrap the toe bondage tradition!” Kit complained. “My toes hurt so much! And they’re sweaty!”
“Sorry, kiddo, we voted on this a couple years ago,” Reese said. “Tied up Toes stays.”
“Hear, hear.” I nodded.
“My Daddy’s a lawyer,” Noa huffed. “I’ll fucking sue.”
“You can’t afford me, baby boy,” KC chuckled.
Several of us cracked up at that. These sweet brats—they’d never cease to make our day.
“It won’t be much longer, subbies,” Luke assured. “Either way—it’s been fun preparing for tonight, and I hope we can bring some new traditions when we return to our Mclean holiday party next year. Merry Christmas, everyone.”
“Merry Christmas!”
“Cheers!”
“Brats rule!”
“Can we eat now, Daddy?” Corey asked.
“Yes, we can eat now,” Sloan laughed softly. “Although, I think Reese had something to say too.”
“Yeah, but I can talk while you stuff your faces.” Reese stood up.
In the meantime, I helped Kit cut his turkey. The food smelled so damn good that my mouth was watering. I’d filled my plate to the max with turkey, ham, ribs, and all the sides we had.
“First of all, thanks for havin’ us tonight,” Reese said. “Second of all, this isn’t a speech so much as it’s an announcement. The house is almost ready—at long last. And we’ve seen the messages online. The rather creative hashtags. #BringBackTheClub, #WeMissYouClubby, #McClubWithdrawals, and so on. So we were thinkin’.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Noa blurted out.
I coughed on a piece of turkey, and all the brats laughed with Noa.
“I can’t fucking wait to see you under the mistletoe, boy,” Reese drawled. “Christ.” He shook his head and moved on. “Our first Game of the new year will be called Picture Perfect, and it’ll be a little different. For starters, you bring the results to the event. You’ll compete in pairs or triads and pick a location, a position, a kink—whathaveyou. You can read all the specifics online starting tomorrow afternoon. And on the night of the event, we’ll have a photo exhibit and open up the new and improved Mclean House—shut the fuck up, Noa—with one hell of a club night.”