Page 24

Across the mess of sand, George’s family was observing us with blatant curiosity. Mrs. M looked like she was going to begin applauding any second. A frankly diabolical smile graced her lips—almost as evil as June’s, but not quite. Lacey and Joe were more subtle, but the hand gesture Lacey made to simulate sex made it clear that she was just as open to teasing despite her stoicism.

“Sorry,” George hadn’t noticed, absorbed by Mavis once again. “Alex distracted me. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

Mavis gave me the stink eye. God-level stink eye. And I couldn’t even be mad, because honestly, she’d had George first, and here I was, swooping in and stealing him. I deserved that. But…I was also too stubborn to leave.

I’d been aching for him all fucking day.

Bending over backward, putting myself out on the line for him, taxing my brain when I was supposed to be on vacation . The least I deserved was a bit of banter, right? Some solid attention from my grouchy blond beau? It was only fair.

“You got room for a second architect?” I asked Mavis, “after I get some sunscreen on your uncle, of course.”

She squinted like it was very, very difficult to imagine a world where I was allowed to join them. And then she nodded, a jerky up and down that made her off-center pigtail bob. “You can make the moat.”

“Sweet,” I offered her a fist bump that she did not return. Apparently I was on her shit list. No matter, I’d win her over again eventually. She’d always liked me before. Before I’d stolen her uncle, that was. Turning my attention to the gaggle of voyeuristic Miltons, I addressed them directly over George’s shoulder, “Any of you have the sunscreen?”

Lacey chucked a bottle at me with no ceremony whatsoever. She looked disappointed when I caught it easily. Her stank face was the exact same as Mavis’s.

“I’m gonna scoot your shirt over, baby, so I can get your back and shoulders,” I warned George, aware that his family was watching and not wanting to cross a line.

“Why?” George asked, unsure.

“Because I want to take care of you.”

He held very still for a moment, before he nodded. “Do what you have to,” George grunted, shoveling sand into his bucket again.

His shoulders were tight by his ears, the pink skin growing pinker. A few freckles—maybe moles?—speckled the flushed skin. I caressed them, ghosting my hand across the imperfections before I squirted some sunscreen onto my hands and got to work.

He shivered when the first swipe stroked along his nape, but otherwise didn’t react, simply melted into the care like he was starved of it.

I had never despised a stranger more than I hated Brendon.

Which I thought was pretty justified, all things considered.

I could still remember what George had said last night, stars in his teary red eyes, “Eight years and he never…I thought it was my fault. That I wasn’t worth the effort? Or maybe it was just normal to feel lonely, even when you were with someone.”

“Alex!” George’s voice snapped me out of my reverie. I jolted, hands stilling. “Are you okay?”

“What?” I blinked, confused. “Of course I’m—” and then I realized that I’d been squeezing his shoulders, hard .

I released him quickly.

There were marks where my fingers had pressed. Marks that could’ve turned to bruises if he hadn’t stopped me. Good, a small dark voice in the back of my mind murmured, maybe if you mark him enough, Brendon’s touch will fade .

It was a nice thought.

Fuck.

But not without consent. Never without consent. I’d had that beaten into my head over my phone call with Dominic. Since I was new to this…experiencing what I’d privately dubbed as my “Dom awakening” it was even more important that I made sure to ask before I did things.

“Sorry,” I apologized, maybe belatedly, since I’d begun spiraling again.

“It’s fine.” George didn’t seem nearly as grumpy, almost like that little bit of pain had leeched the grouch right out of him. He offered me a smile. “What made you so angry?”

“Unca George,” Mavis interrupted again, even more miffed this time.

“Sorry, sorry,” George laughed, turning his attention back to her. “I keep doing that.”

“Yes.” She glared at me again, round face bright red.

To pay for my transgressions I was banished to moat duty.

Which wasn’t all that much of a punishment even though Mavis clearly meant it as one. The sand was heating up already as I made room for myself half behind George, eager to feel him but not enough of an asshole to outright climb on top of him in front of his family. Sitting to his left a little, with one pec brushing his side, my legs folded, I finally felt at peace.

Every time he moved, his leg brushed against mine, which was tantalizing to say the least. Despite her serious approach to castle demolition, Mavis lost focus pretty early in the process. Rather than smoosh the towers George built, she turned her attention to his legs—surprisingly hairless—and began burying him the same way Joe was burying Lacey.

“Anyone want a drink?” Mrs. Milton offered, looking pleased as punch beneath her umbrella. “We’ve got…” She twisted, rifling around inside the cooler to her left. “Beer, a bottle of vodka, water, and…lemonade.”

“That’s mine.” Mr. Milton took the bottle of vodka out of her hand with a grunt. Mrs. Milton just rolled her eyes, passing out a variety of drinks to the rest of us with a motherly smile.

“Here you go, honey.” She handed me a water bottle. “You must be parched.”

“Very,” I winked.

George choked. “Must you flirt with my mother?”

I gave her a wink, and she tittered. “I must.”

When I pressed my chilly water bottle against the back of George’s neck, he flinched.

“Asshole,” he muttered, reaching back to pinch my nipple, hard . I laughed in disbelief, batting him off and rubbing my chest with a pained groan.

“Jesus, you’ve got like—super aim. That was a direct hit.”

“It’s like his superpower,” Joe frowned, rubbing his chest in commiseration, like he didn’t even notice he was doing it. Huh.

“I didn’t know you were a bully,” I took a long sip of water. I really had been parched. George scowled at me.

“I’m not a bully.”

“Just like you’re not a hypocrite.”

Wow. That was a new level of scowl. Scowl 2.0. I was proud of bringing that one out of him, actually.

“You and June never messed with each other like that?” George questioned.

“She bleached all my underwear once?” I frowned, then snorted, because the memory was honestly hilarious.

“How the hell does that happen?”

“She was super annoyed that our boxers kept getting mixed up. I wore hers to football practice one too many times and she figured if she ‘marked’ all of mine, I’d never get confused again.”

“And did it work?”

“Of course it worked! All my underwear was mutilated. I never made the same mistake.” I shuddered. “Figured if I did, my ass was next—so…” I shrugged.

“I am actually horrified.”

George did not look horrified .

He looked entertained.

“Bleach your ass ?” He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re telling me you think June would be vindictive enough to physically go in and…oh god. No . I don’t want to picture it. And why your ass of all things? Isn’t that extreme?”

Now it was my turn to be freaked out.

He was right. Picturing June creeping into my room in the middle of the night like the evil gremlin she was with a tube of ass bleach was just—no. No . “Fuck. No! I meant more like, she’d replace my soap—didn’t you ever read that article about the Nair in a shampoo bottle? Like…like that . Not… Oh god. I didn’t mean she’d be all up in my—oh god. Ew. Ew. Ew.” The more I thought about it, the more awful the thought became. “Why did you put that thought in my head?! I was innocent. Now I need brain bleach. That’s seriously diabolical. You’ve got an evil mind, Georgie Porgie. Evil .”

George laughed.

It was my favorite laugh.

Bright and happy.

Squawking and awkward, like he was choking on the sound—too embarrassed to be loud but unable to help himself. “That’s what you get for calling me a bully.”

“You’re saying this was premeditated ?!” I gasped in mock offense. “God, you really are a bully.”

He laughed harder.

Suddenly, my justified disgust was no longer important. The more over the top I acted, the harder George cackled. Like a mad scientist or some shit.

Cute-cute-cute.

I was so fucking tempted to bite him I had to clench my jaw to stop myself.

After pushing my theatrics as long as I could, I finally broke. I grinned and wiggled even closer so that George’s quaking back was brushing against the side of my chest. I wanted to feel that laugh. Wanted to be shaken apart by it. When George’s guffaws softened to chuckles, my heart threatened to beat right out of my chest. He wiped a tear away, struggling to get a solid breath in.

I glanced up, unsurprised to find that the Milton clan was watching us with obvious glee. Even Lacey looked excited. God, they were as bad as June was. Or worse! Nosy bastards.

Instigators, all of them.

Though…I couldn’t be mad about it. Not when they’d all been right. George’s laughter was a testament to our compatibility. They saw it, just like I did. They knew . And sharing George’s joy with his family was a new kind of intimacy, maybe even more precious than having him down my throat, or being trusted to carry his weight.

Family was everything to George.

It would take an idiot not to see that.

“Shut up ,” George grunted defensively toward said family, tossing another handful of sand fruitlessly in their direction. “Stop looking at me like that. I laugh .”

“Apparently.” Mrs. Milton looked pleased as punch, her giant blond hairdo bobbing. “A joke and a laugh—all in one day. Aren’t we lucky?”

There was a story there—but I didn’t get a chance to investigate. Unfortunately, while George had been snorting his head off, he’d twitched his leg—which meant that he’d accidentally broken through Mavis’s hard work burying it, his pale knee poking free of its sand prison.

“Stop. Making. Unca. George. Happy .” Unlike the rest of George’s family, Mavis was not pleased by the hand I’d had in George’s joy.

In fact, her body was shaking with fury as she glared fearlessly at me. I’d never incited the wrath of a toddler before, and frankly did not know what to do. Kids usually liked me. Actually, scratch that, kids always liked me.

“Ah—I’m sorry—” I said.

“Mavis, honey,” Lacey’s voice was a welcome distraction. “Why don’t you come help Uncle Joe bury the rest of Mommy?” Jesus that sounded dark out of context .

Mavis didn’t even give the decision a second thought. Apparently she was tired of my shit. Not George’s though, because she gave his cheek an adorable sandy peck before storming off, her sunhat bobbing.

“Sorry,” I murmured, leaning my cheek against the bare, sun-kissed skin of George’s shoulder. It was slightly sticky and definitely a higher temperature than usual. Baby had for sure gotten sunburned. Good thing I was here to rub aloe on it later. “I didn’t mean to scare her off.”

When George twisted to look at me, his eyes were dancing.

So not angry then.

“It’s fine. We played for a long time,” he said. It was like he’d reached inside my chest and squeezed right around my heart. “Don’t worry about it.”

I took a sip of water to give myself something to do—otherwise I was pretty sure I’d have pulled George right into my lap and had my merry way with him, audience be damned. It was getting increasingly difficult not to grab him. To grope him. To kiss that sweet, grumpy, joyous mouth.

I knew him intimately in a way I hadn’t the night before. And now that I’d seen that tasty little cock, I couldn’t wait to touch it again.

Glancing around, I noted the boathouse that was tucked between the edge of the lake and the woods, out of the way of the beach. There were dumpsters behind it. And it was off the beaten path. It looked like a good hookup spot. Secluded. And since the boats were out on the water it’d be entirely empty. Unbidden, visions of what exactly we could get up to in there assaulted my senses.

Namely, George trussed up with the rope June had handed me with a cackle before she’d left to join Roderick on the wave runners.

Calm yourself.

You don’t need to get a hard-on in front of George’s family.

But then George leaned into me. Of his own free will. He wiggled that sweet ass to the side and back, settling against my chest—stiff—but solid. I didn’t know what to do for a second, my dick waking right the fuck up despite my earlier protests .

When I glanced down I had to bite back a groan.

Yellow short-shorts.

He was wearing yellow short-shorts.

Even shorter than the ones he’d worn on the hike—the tiny shorts that’d made my brain want to melt right out of my ears. They left nothing to the imagination. Nothing. Barely covered his ass, Jesus Christ.

Those had to be the sluttiest slut-shorts I’d ever seen. They reminded me of some of those scenes in movies from the eighties. Totally straight dudes parading around, playing sports in shorts that barely came down their thighs. My hands twitched, aching to reach down and slip under the hems.

My nose skimmed along his shoulder, and George shivered.

“Behave,” he told me, prim as ever.

“I’m trying,” I whined. My cock was not trying. Not at all. Already at half mast I knew there was no way he couldn’t feel it snug against his ass. “Sorry. You’re just…”

“Think about something else.” George was being awfully bossy for a guy who had climbed into my lap. I bit my lip, burying my face against his back and trying not to outright hump him. It would be so easy. No one would see. When I glanced up again, scoping out our would-be audience, the Miltons were all occupied with something else.

Mr. and Mrs. Milton were chatting animatedly. Which mostly meant Mrs. Milton was talking, and Mr. Milton was nodding occasionally. Lacey and Joe were playing with Mavis. And…none of my cousins who populated the sand or the water were paying us attention at all.

My hips flexed—slow and deliberate—and George’s responding gasp was shallow.

“ Alex ,” his voice was a warning.

“You’re the one that sat on my cock, Duchess,” I murmured against his ear, keeping my expression neutral so we wouldn’t get caught. I stretched, motion casual just so I could push my hard dick between his cheeks a second time. He clenched down, and god , wasn’t that just…fffucck.

One of my hands slid to his belly, lying there possessively. My watch glimmered, catching the light and drawing his attention down to where I held him.

“I didn’t,” George protested. His body betrayed him. Still rigid, but relaxing by the second, his hips doing this very distracting, minute shake that caused just enough friction against my dick to make me lose my mind.

“You did,” I teased. “Did you forget that I was there?”

George’s voice was breathy. “Stop doing that with your hips.”

I stopped.

He hadn’t safe-worded, but even I knew one good grind was the best I was going to get right now. I didn’t want to embarrass him. Even if this whole…exhibition thing we had going on was making me so fucking hard I could barely breathe.

It was fine.

This was fine.

I could behave.

I could totally?—

Okay fine, I could not behave.

“I’ve gotta get outta here,” I said, looping both my arms around his waist and giving him a squeeze. George wilted. I could literally feel his disappointment.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I get it.”

I frowned, confused. “What do you…”

“I can give you a break.” George shrank even further.

“A break?” What the hell was he talking about?

“From me.”

“A break from?—”

“That’s why you asked June to distract me, right?” Christ, he was far more observant than I’d given him credit. “That’s why you need to get out of here. You need space to?—”

“Fuck no.” Alright. So I wasn’t leaving him. I curled my arms around him tightly, squeezing with all my might. Till his bones popped and the tension in his frame eased. “I don’t need space from you. And I only asked June to distract you because I needed to figure some stuff out, not because I didn’t want to be with you.”

“Oh.” George relaxed. “Not because you feel smothered?”

Smothered?

What the fuck?

Why would he ? —

Brendon.

The answer to most every question was Brendon .

“No. I was learning sex stuff.” My cheeks burned, embarrassed to admit that I didn’t know something. I dropped my head against his shoulder, nosing at the sun-warm skin, hiding a little, still careful so we wouldn’t be overheard. “Sex stuff I would love to show you—if you…want me to?”

George made a sound in affirmation.

Once more, I couldn’t help but find his hypocrisy cute. Here he was, upset that I had “run from him” when he was the one that’d done all the running between the two of us.

“Are you coming?” My voice was low with intent, a clear invitation. “You don’t have to.” Consent, consent, consent. “But if you do…” I squeezed him even tighter, placing a light kiss right below his flushed, pink ear. “I’m going to touch you.” George shuddered. “I am going to touch what you’ve got hidden in those slutty little short-shorts.” George made a squawking sound like he wanted to protest what I’d just called his outfit. “And maybe…if you’re my very good boy again…” Another shudder, and a gasp. “I’ll stuff that pretty pink pussy nice and full, just the way you like.”

It was a gamble whether or not he’d like that.

Judging by the breath that escaped him, he did.

“You like that?” I spoke even quieter, directly against his ear. “You like me calling your slutty little hole a pussy?” He’d said he was into breeding. And while the kinks didn’t go hand in hand, I had a feeling he’d like this too.

“Y-yes.”

“Me and my silly nicknames,” I clucked my tongue, pressing the hand I had on his stomach tighter. “Embarrassing, huh, Duchess?”

“Alex.”

“ George ,” I countered. “C’mon.”

George didn’t need to be told twice.

Obedient as ever.

And so fucking ready for whatever I had in store, he was gagging for it. Like I wasn’t too much for him at all, even like this, loud and unrepentant.