by Max Monroe
So you’re probably thinking you’re missing something, huh? Well, as it turns out, all that technology I was lamenting earlier can also be a boon. It’s amazing how detailed a plan you can formulate via text message. I wasn’t fully confident in Georgia’s ability to tow the lying line, but so far, she’s been smashing.
“Perfect,” I agreed easily. “Thanks so much.”
“No problem at all,” Georgia said. “You had them all day.”
Cassie glared daggers at her best friend as I pushed her out the door, and the kids went willingly into Georgia’s care.
I could tell the exact moment she resigned herself to the fact that we were going to be leaving alone, when the direct sunlight flushed her tan skin and made her reach up to shield her eyes as we stepped outside. Of course, those weren’t the actions that told her tale, but rather, it was the way she tugged at the hem of her shirt until the top swells of her perfect tits came out to play. She was out for blood—and she wanted it all to pool straight in my dick so she could regain control.
I shook my head with a smile from behind her. Man, she’s something else.
Straight past regret and right on to damage control.
She looked around awkwardly in search of one of our cars but came up empty. I pointed to the blacked-out Suburban I’d hired, waiting double-parked a few cars down with its four-ways on.
“You didn’t drive yourself?” she asked suspiciously.
“No. I thought this would be easier. Especially since you already have a car in the city, and I was going to need to leave the feline demon in the car long enough to stalk you. Where’d you park, by the way?”
Her chest rose and fell noticeably as she expelled a deep sigh—another action of design, no doubt.
“In the garage at your office.”
“Fantastic. I’ll take that home tomorrow.”
“Thatcher—”
“Not yet, Crazy. I know it’s absolutely killing you not to be giving me excuses right now, but not yet.”
Her brow creased with concern, and for the first time since she’d been busted, she looked worried she might have taken it too far.
I walked her to the back passenger side door and opened it for her, waiting until she settled in the seat to close it and walk to the back hatch. With a push of a button, the latch released, and the door lifted in a slow, steady motion with low, successive beeps. Cassie turned in her seat to look over her shoulder.
“Be right back,” I told her. “Just have to see to a little reunion first.”
She watched avidly as I grabbed Walter’s crate, and he attempted to swat at me through the grated front. “Take a chill pill, dude. You’ll be all set to cuddle soon.”
Stan stood up on the sidewalk and started to bark, like he could smell the little shitstain in my arms. It was incredible really, the bond the two of them had. I had a feeling their deaths were going to be perfectly timed and romantic like Noah and Allie in The Notebook. I didn’t know the logistics of how they’d hold hands, but I didn’t know the logistics of a lot of things they did.
I was just setting a wildly gyrating Walter’s crate on the sidewalk in front of Stan when Kline pulled up in his Dad-mobile—a Suburban. It was a slight upgrade from his previous ride, but I knew it didn’t have anything to do with status. It was purely a square footage game. The only other option for transporting Stan was a trailer.
“You couldn’t have lost the cat on the way here?” Kline asked as he hopped out from behind the wheel. Unfortunately for him, it was perfectly timed with Georgia’s exit from the store.
“Kline Brooks!”
He didn’t even falter, easing his face into a warm smile and shrugging. “Sorry, baby. I can’t change how I feel.”
“So…” I segued as Georgia hustled the kids, Walter, and Stan into the car one by one. “Is it all set up?”
“Yes. I ran by there after the office, and Lexi and Wes helped me do the dirty work,” Kline affirmed. “Though, I’m not really sure why you want to do this tonight of all nights. A reward system like this only reinforces today’s behavior.”
I smiled. “Yeah. I know who I married.” Georgia walked back to the front of the car to rejoin our circle. “Honestly, are either of you actually surprised by today? Because if you are, I’m disappointed in you.”
Georgia smiled and Kline sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and sinking his hips into the front bumper of his car. “Just try to leave us out of it in the future.”
“Are you kidding?” Georgia disputed. “I’m finally getting good at lying! I think it’s all the practice.”
“My wife’s goals, people,” Kline muttered. “Successful deception.”
I had to laugh. But I also had to get moving. The sun was setting, and the whole thing was really more effective in the light of day.
“We’ll see you at Wes and Winnie’s place.”
Kline saluted, but Georgia broke down in body-wracking tears.
What in hell’s kitchen?
“Georgie?” Kline questioned, stepping forward to put an arm around her.
“I…want…her…to…think…I’m…in…trouble,” she forced out in between fake heaves.
Color me impressed, Georgie girl is getting good at lying…
I raised my eyebrows in delight. “Hot damn, son. Looks like Georgia’s in the game after all.”
Kline was less optimistic. “Jesus Christ. I don’t know if I like this turn of events.”
“Aw, baby,” she cooed, turning in his arms to shove her face into his neck. “You’ll get used to it.”
A smart move on her part, giving him all of that body contact. His face melted immediately into visible pleasure. I took that as my cue to exit. After all, my hot babe was waiting for me in the car.
My long legs ate up the distance between our circle and the car in no time, and Cassie lashed out as soon as I climbed in. “Crying? Really, Thatcher? You made Georgia fluffing cry? None of this was even her fault! She was more of a victim than an accomplice!”
“You can go,” I told the driver, using all of my willpower to keep myself from smiling at my wife’s righteous indignation. One of the things I loved most about her was the endless depth of her heart. If you were in with Cassie Kelly, you were motherfluffing in.
As the car started to roll on my command, she shifted her attack. “He can go? Go where? Where the hell are we going? I didn’t even say goodbye to my son!”
I turned toward her and raised my eyebrows. She broke pretty quickly, which wasn’t characteristic of her. She must have been more upset about being in trouble than she was letting on.
“Okay, fine. I’m not really all that crushed that I didn’t get to say goodbye. He tends to punch me in the tit when I do. But, still.”
The image of my little son abusing her perfect chest was enough to crease the skin between my eyebrows.
“Yeah, I’ve got to have a serious talk with him about that. That goes against every single one of our house rules.”
“House rules?” she questioned, because, yeah, we didn’t have any house rules.
“Yes. It’s really only one rule, and it’s that your tits are religious. He’s practically assaulting a member of the clergy.”
“You still love my tits?” she asked hopefully, and finally, I cracked. Into a smile, out of the ruse, and into my absolute favorite slot in her heart.
Leaning forward, I quickly touched my lips to hers before settling my eyes back on the road. “If there ever comes a day that your tits aren’t on top for me, Crazy, you might as well put me in the ground.”
“They’re going to sag one day,” she hedged.
“The better to drape over myself,” I argued, and she laughed.
“So…you’re not mad at me?”
I shook my head and settled back into my seat. “I’m a little sad. I mean, you were off your game a little, honey.”
“Ugh!” she huffed. “It’s the pregnancy hormones.”
Just as she finished t
he sentence, we pulled up in front of Wes and Winnie’s place, and her gaze turned to the window.
“Thatch?” she questioned immediately, but her gaze stayed fixated on the bright color of each bouquet of roses that sat on the front porch of the house and glowed beneath the fading daylight.
“Twenty dozen,” I told her. “Every single one from my unbelievably talented dick. But I’m sure you’re not surprised, huh? This isn’t the first time he’s managed to send his favorite woman flowers.”
Her sobs were a mixture of laughter and tears as she pushed open the door and climbed down to the sidewalk.
I jumped out of my side and rounded the car, and with my hand pressed gently against my wife’s lower back, we moved closer to Wes and Winnie’s front porch.
She gasped once she spotted the real surprise. “Is that…” She paused, and her jaw damn near hit the sidewalk as she took in the most important part of the surprise. It sat inside a giant basket, and an even bigger pink bow was wrapped around it.
“Yep,” I touted. “That, right there, is—”
“A prototype of the Mother Fluffer,” she whispered. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, and a gorgeous smile kissed her perfect mouth.
My crazy woman had a dream, folks.
A vibrator dream of epic proportions. The kind of vibrator that stimulated the clit, the pussy, the yeah, everything, and gave women the absolute most intense orgasm of their lives while making almost zero noise in the process.
And since she’s my wife, and my life’s mission is to make all of her dreams come true,
the Mother Fluffer is now a reality.
Although, it needs to be noted that I can still and always will be able to work Cassie’s body better than any vibrator, even the Mother Fluffer.
“That’s no prototype, honey,” I corrected with a smirk. “That’s post-production. All set to debut in Sextopia and Sure Romance next week.”
“But…why?”
Why today? was what she was really asking. Why would I reward her with a gift of boning proportions on the day she’d attempted to make my life a living hell? Well, for one, nothing my wife had done today was any kind of surprise.
“Because this vibrator is your dream, and I couldn’t think of any better time to debut it than Mother’s Day. She’s just as quiet and every bit as intense as you wanted.”
And two, I’d been planning a Mother’s Day reveal from the beginning. Granted, the original execution was altogether different and within the privacy of our own home, but quite frankly, this was better.
“And she sparkles,” she said in awe.
I laughed. “Yep. I remembered that request too.” My woman wanted her to sparkle, so fuck yes, she sparkled. Pink and white sparkles, to be specific.
The door cracked open, and Wes popped his head out. “Can we get the giant dick off my doorstep now?”
Later that night, after we’d enjoyed a nice night with the gang, and I’d watched Georgia and Winnie get hammered off of all the wine I couldn’t drink, I was more than ready to cuddle up—and have sex—with my husband.
Thatch walked into the bedroom and started shrugging out of his clothes while I watched from my cozy spot under the fluffy white comforter in our bed. Closely, I watched his facial expression for any signs of my favorite kind of trouble in the form of an arousing midnight spanking that turned into some good old-fashioned Thatch-style fucking.
A girl could dream, right?
But, sadly, my handsome husband appeared relaxed as he removed his pants and shirt and tossed them haphazardly toward the laundry basket.
I know, I know, I shouldn’t be complaining, huh?
I mean, Thatch not only forgave me, but he made my vibrator dreams come true.
But sheesh, there is something about hot make-up sex…
Is it bad that I kind of want him to be a little mad right now?
“Did Ace fall asleep pretty quickly after you got him into bed?” I asked and he smirked.
“Little man was out before his head hit the pillow,” he said and slid into bed beside me. “It shouldn’t be a surprise, though,” he added and pulled me toward his bared chest and tucked me into his side. “He and Julia have been running around like little banshees all day. I swear to God, Cass, those two kids have a secret stash of pixie sticks and Red Bull or something. They literally never stop.”
“Dad life,” I teased and he smirked.
“Best fucking life on the planet,” he said through a yawn, and I ran my hand over his chest.
“Tired?”
“Well…” he said and hugged me closer to his body. “Between chasing after the kids, the fake dognapping, making your vibrator dreams come true, and then dinner and drinks at Wes’s, yeah, I think it’s safe to say I’m ready to call it a night.”
Wait…what? Call it a night? Like, without sex?
“Good night, Cass,” he whispered and kissed me on the forehead. “Sweet dreams, honey.”
It took all of my willpower not to knee him in the dick. I mean, generally speaking, bedtime equaled sex time in the Kelly house. And when I say generally speaking, I mean every motherfluffing night of the week.
What. The. Fluff? I mean, he’d given me the Mother Fluffer today! Shouldn’t we at least be putting it to use or something?
When a few soft snores and heavy breaths started to fall from his lips, I knew my hopes of getting pussy pleasure had flown out the goddamn window.
Son of a Popsicle stick, this was not my day for orgasms. Like, not at all.
Eventually, I gave in to my no-climax reality and turned away from my husband and onto my side. I adjusted my giant pregnant belly in the process and huffed out a breath of frustration as I punched my fist into my pillow and settled myself in for a long night of sexual frustration.
“A little frustrated, Crazy?” Thatch whispered, and my eyes popped open. “Is that greedy little cunt of yours a little ticked off that Daddy isn’t giving her what she wants?”
“You’re such a bastard,” I muttered. “You’ve been awake the whole time, haven’t you?”
He chuckled softly, and next thing I knew, Thatch was moving down the bed until his big, muscular body was lying between my opened thighs. “How frustrated is she, Cass?” he asked and slid my panties to the side with one long index finger. His gaze locked on to my bared skin, and he licked his lips in approval. “She looks so greedy right now. God, she’s practically begging for my mouth, and I haven’t even done anything yet.”
“Ugh,” I groaned in annoyance.
“How frustrated, Cass?” he asked again.
“So frustrated,” I admitted. Giving in wasn’t my usual MO, but tonight, I was making an exception to my normal rules. I needed an orgasm. Hell, I probably needed two before I’d even consider calling it a night and getting some shut-eye.
He looked up at me from underneath his dark lashes, and his eyes shone with that familiar glimmer that generally said all good things were coming. Literally, coming. And without any warning, he gently licked one smooth line down my pussy and then back up again before pulling his mouth away and moaning his approval. “I fucking love the way you taste.”
I whimpered in frustration.
“More?” he asked and I nodded.
“Yes, please.”
“Think maybe you owe me an apology first?”
“Apology?” I asked in confusion. I mean, what in the flipping Hello Kitty was he talking about?
“Yeah,” he said with a smirk. “An apology for the dognapping today.”
Oh, that…
“I’m sorry I kidnapped Stan when you weren’t looking. But…” I added because let’s face it, I had a reason for the prank. In hindsight, I wouldn’t exactly say it was the best reason, but still, it was a reason nonetheless. I might’ve been crazy, but I didn’t make a point to just go around kidnapping people’s pets for the hell of it. “In my defense, you pranked me earlier today.”
He quirked a brow. “When did I prank you?”
/>
“Uh…when you acted like Ace wasn’t with you this morning…”
Once everything clicked into place, he started chuckling in amusement. “That’s what made you sneak into the house this afternoon to steal Stan? Because of a two-minute phone conversation when I pretended not to have our son?”
“Exactly,” I stated. “You know the rules, T. Tit for tat. And, besides that, you should know better than to prank your pregnant wife.”
Thatch stared up at me with a giant grin etched across his face. “You’re literally the craziest woman I’ve ever known.”
I grinned. “And you’re literally the craziest man I’ve ever known.”
“God, I love you,” he said, and his voice turned tender. “Even when you’re trying to kill me with heart attacks before I’ve reached the age of forty by stealing animals from our home, I love the fucking hell out of you.”
“I love you, too,” I whispered. “Especially when you’re stalking me. I think I love you the most when you do romantic things like that.”
Between the prank, spending the afternoon in Chelsea with my best friend, and Thatcher tracking me down after he’d found out I’d taken the dog, today had felt like old times. It had been a good day.
And hot damn, my husband—especially his stalker tendencies—was so fluffing swoony.
“I wouldn’t say today’s stalking was motivated by romance, honey,” he said through a soft chuckle. “It had more to do with the fact that you’d, you know, kidnapped a dog and, thanks to that, I had a plan to alter.”
I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t kidnap a dog.”
“Then what exactly would you call it?”
“I just happened to need to borrow a dog for the day.”
“Jesus,” he said with a laugh. “Promise me you’ll never include kidnapping in any future pranks.”
“I’ll only take that deal if you promise not to prank me while I’m pregnant.”
“Deal,” he agreed, and then his gaze moved back to the bared—and extremely horny—skin between my thighs.
“Thank you for the flowers and the Mother Fluffer,” I added, and his eyes met mine. “I still don’t know how you pulled that off, but God, it’s amazing. I’m still speechless, to be honest.”