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I f I couldn’t hear Brady clomping up those fucking stars behind me. My sister wasn’t smiling at me from the dining table, and Quinn wasn’t standing beside Lotte, holding open the door so my girl can hold that bowl of pasta, I’d take it, spread Lotte out on the sofa, drizzle that creamy sauce all over her body, and lick every inch of her clean.

Every. Damn. Inch.

But Brady is clomping, Claire is waving at me and Quinn is beside her while I can do nothing but be grateful the kit bag over my shoulder is hiding my semi. Ducking down to press a kiss to her cheek, I mummer into her ear, “Lotte, you look indecently hot.”

“Funny that. I’ve been in the kitchen for hours. I feel it too.” Pretty sure we mean that differently, but I don’t get the chance to clarify because Brady shoves his palm between my shoulders to push me out of the way.

“Lotte, whatever that smell is, can I please have two helpings?” His free hand is rubbing circles over his stomach but stalls when he steps through the door and sees Quinn. “Oh. Hi Quinny.”

“Hi Brady.” Both their cheeks flash a brighter red than the cherry tomatoes floating in our dinner as they back away from each other. Every pair of eyes watches them nod several times to each other before we all follow Lotte to the dining area. There they sit at opposite sides of the table, which I now notice looks insane. Ivy entwined in fairy lights and pink peonies snake around the various dishes laid out. Steam rises from a basket of crusty bread rolls, bowls are filled with mashed potatoes, yams dotted with fluffy white marshmallows, another two styles of pasta, and in the center of it all, a freaking turkey the size of Lotte.

“Holy fucking pucks, is it Thanksgiving?”

Claire huffs and pinches the bridge of her nose “Been and gone, Noah. Think for a second. You helped me hang our decorations and stuff the turkey for the dinner we had with Kel’s family last week, and you had no game that weekend. Should I go on?“ She’s dismissed with a middle finger/eye roll combo and I focus on Lotte.

“I can’t believe you did all this.”

“ We did all this,” Quinn adds. She’s ignored too.

“Well, I haven’t had Thanksgiving with anybody since Gran died and last week I was residing in Quinn’s attic brooding like a troll. So I thought—” Lotte pauses to nod to Quinn, “ we thought we’d do a mini one tonight as an apology for the kerfuffle I caused.”

Groaning internally, I drop my bag, grip her hips and pull her against me, the soft knit of her dress bunching beneath my fingers. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to be any sexier, then you go and say the word kerfuffle with a straight face and prove me wrong.”

Relief over Lotte’s return home, excitement high over the Battle game being just days away, and too much wine means conversation has been lively, while dinner was so delicious we’ve been slumped in our seats in a food coma, Lotte wearing lips quirking with a hint of contentment maybe only I can see the whole time.

Rehashing our week apart tingles on my tongue, but I’ve let it sit there, swallowing down all the questions I want answers too knowing she’ll come to me when she’s ready.

If she’s ready.

All in all, I’ve smiled my ass off, eaten way more than any man soon playing the most important game of his life ever should, and drooled an equally inappropriate amount too, and none of it is over the succulent turkey.

No, there’s something else, something sweeter, juicer that I need to sink my teeth into. While the ladies prepared desserts, Brady and I bitched our way through cleanup duty. We’ve just returned to our seats and Lotte’s tights clad foot is teasing up and down my calf. If my dick gets any harder this table will be levitating.

I need these people to leave.

I need Lotte naked.

And I need it now.

Unaware of my inner turmoil, Kelly reaches for the cake/pie slicer thingy that’s sitting before her, Claire, and a perfectly glazed cherry pie, then begins slicing it up into six equal portions. “Who’s up for dessert?”

Me.

“Looks good enough to eat” I reply, eyes firmly on Lotte. This does little to impress Claire, who sighs and pinches her nose again. If she squeezes any tighter, she’s going to bruise and look like a raccoon.

“She means the pie, idiot.”

“So do I.”

That seems to push her over the edge. “You know what. I’ve sat here with humility, patience—”

“Please.”

“ And grace,” she insists, cutting me off with a polished pink nail pointing into the tabletop, “listening to you compliment my friend’s tender breast meat, her luscious thighs, and her pert marshmallow puffs. But I will be damned if I let you besmirch her pie.” Brady and Quinn snicker behind their napkins which is the most noise either have made this whole time, and knowing the drill, Kelly slides out her chair.

“Lotte, would you mind if Claire and I take some pie to go? We have an early day tomorrow.” I’m fairly sure they don’t, but who the fuck am I to point that out and extend their residence. Claire begins to argue but is silenced by a single raised eyebrow of her wife. “Brady,” she then smiles, cool as a cucumber, “can we give you a ride back to campus?”

“Umm.” Hope swims in his eyes as he glances from Kelly to Quinn.

“No,” Quinn replies, tossing him a life preserver, “I brought some extra boxes over from my folk’s place, so I’ve asked Brady to help me unpack. Didn’t I Brady?”

Again, I’m fairly certain that’s not the case, but again say nothing. Either does Brady. He just blushes and nods, forearms muscles twitching as he rubs the damn troll. Would I rather him and Quinn be out of here too? Duh. But I will settle for them doing whatever the fuck is going on with them while Lotte and I do whatever the fuck she’s gonna let me do.

I’m still processing whatever that is when Lotte emerges from the kitchen with one of those fancy white cake boxes you get from a bakery, her face aglow like it was the day I bought her that birthday cake. The memory is so clear it compresses my lungs, forcing free a squeaky, raspy exhale reminiscent of a piano accordion.

“I made a pie for each of you to take home, and look.” Popping lid, her face goes from cute to adorable. “There’s a C and K on yours. B on Brady’s, and T on Quinn’s.”

“T for Troye,” Brady grumbles. “Thanks for the reminder.” Following under his breath.

“No, T for treasure. I couldn’t have survived the last few months without you Quinn. Without all of you really. I know I’ve dealt terribly with all this father stuff, and running and shutting down does nothing for no one, but I’m working on that, I promise. So yeah, I love you all, thank you for being patient with me and for giving me all the family I need. Happy Thanksgiving.”

It takes maybe fifteen minutes for the blubbering to reach a point where Kelly will let Claire drive. Kelly herself is a bottle of red too deep to take the wheel herself. Another fifteen minutes of hell grade torture pass before Brady is escorted into Quinn’s room, but only fifteen seconds after that for Lotte and me to charge at each other across the room. She’s up on me in a heartbeat, climbing me like a monkey up their favorite big banana bearing tree, legs wrapping around my waist, pussy grinding over my aching banana … I mean cock. “I’ve been like this for hours, Lotte. I want you so bad my teeth hurt.”

“Isn’t the expression, you’re so sweet my teeth hurt?” she giggles, lifting my shirt over my head before sinking her teeth into the crook of my neck.

“Dunno. My brains are floating in my balls. You’re lucky I can speak. Speaking of speaking, let’s stop.” I pull away, nudge her chin with mine then attack her mouth, swallowing her mewled protest. My tongue forces its way inside and she rolls hers over it in greeting, teeth again taking little bites of my lip. “Didn’t you eat enough at dinner.” I groan carrying her into a dimly lit bedroom that smells so her I my dick swells again.

“I ate plenty, just not what I wanted.” Balancing her with one arm, I kick the door shut then release my grip so she can slide down onto her bed, fully expecting her to lay on her back. She doesn’t though. Instead, she bounces, settles between my legs and buries her face into my stomach. “This is what I wanted.”

Nimble fingers work to remove my pants as her tongue busies itself with tracing the outline of my abs. Sweats and underwear fall to my ankles, freeing my dick which slaps against my happy trail, leaving a smear ofprecumshe deftly licks off as her left hand splays out over my hip, pulling me closer. Intentions are clear, and I am seconds from expiring.

Still.

“Lotte, you don’t—” Thank the Lord she ignores my concern and sucks the red, leaking tip into between her lips, moaning as that naughty tongue explores my slit, moaning again when she tastes me.

“You look so pretty, Lot,” I groan, not only in pleasure but in restraint. Letting her set the pace is taking every thread of self-control. The need to thrust so strong I force my eyes closed, hoping it aids in holding on. It doesn’t, because I’m almost certain the sound she makes when she wraps her free hand around mine, the one hovering uselessly but my side, and weaves our fingers into her soft hair, is illegal in several states. That certainty quadruples when she deep throats me, humming like a filthy choir girl in church as she bobs, bouncing on her knees, those fucking tits spilling from the top of her dress.

Our entwined fingers card through her hair, each stroke releasing a scent I can’t place, but like. Maybe a new shampoo? Whatever it is, it smells like heaven and sex. Holding myself back is nearly impossible. I want to roll my hips and push deeper. I want to hear her gag and see her eyes water as she takes me. Reading my desire, she releases my hand, slides it over my hip and latches onto my ass, nails digging into my cheek as she pulls off me, humming, “Use me.”

“Jesus Christ, little one. I’m going to come.” Should I not be so fucking nuts for this girl I’d been embarrassed by the speed and intensity at which my load explodes into her mouth. She takes it all, though. Hollowing out her cheeks to suck me dry, nails damn near drawing blood her grip on my ass is so tight.

“I really enjoyed that,” she giggles, placing a final kiss on my softening dick, then rocking back onto her feet. I’m about to agree when I notice a drop of my cum on the corner of her mouth, right where her lips meet and tilt up into a lazy smile. I lean down, ready to wipe it clear with my thumb, but before I can the same soft pink tongue that brought me undone darts out at licks it clean. “Waste not, want not.”

Dreaming of round two, my dick twitches, and Lotte? Lotte’s tugging her dress down, raising her hips and slipping it over her bum to expose a matching bra and panties that has my heart in tachycardia.

It really is a day to be thankful.