by Emma Hart
I dropped my forehead to the counter and laughed, my entire body shaking. “Where the hell do you think these things up?”
“Same place you think up the shit that comes out of your mouth, honey.”
I sat back up, still laughing my ass off. “You talk out your ass, Hawkins.”
“From you, that’s quite the compliment. I don’t think you’ve spoken out of anything but your ass for at least five years.” He grabbed the handle of the saucepan that had the spaghetti in. “Why are you laughing like that?”
“Because,” I sputtered, holding up my hand so I could get ahold of myself. “I wondered earlier if everything would change now. I’m so used to bitching at you.”
“Are you glad that we just bitched at each other?” Ethan’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked at me over his shoulder as he drained the spaghetti.
“Yeah. It means not everything has changed.”
“Change isn’t a bad thing.”
“I know that, but I don’t want it to change too much. I kinda like bitching at you. It’s comfortable. A bit like the fact your insoles are still in my trunk.”
Ethan paused. “Huh. Shit. So they are.”
I smiled. “See? It’s fun.”
He returned my smile and got to mixing the spaghetti with the sauce. Two minutes later, he put the plate in front of me with a flourish. “Dinner is served.”
“It looks great.”
“Reserve judgment until you’ve tasted it. There’s every chance I messed it up.” He laughed and sat on the other stool with his own plate.
I twisted the fork in the spaghetti and took my first bite of Ethan’s cooking. I groaned as flavor exploded in my mouth, a rich mixture of basil and garlic, and oh, my God, all the things!
“Please don’t do that,” Ethan muttered.
I choked, clapping my hand over my mouth. “Sorry,” I whispered, taking the water he offered me. My bad.
“Thank you.” He side-eyed me and got back to eating, and I did the same.
Without moaning.
It was delicious, and we ate without talking. It was simultaneously comfortable and awkward, but if this was a new normal, it wouldn’t be the worst.
In fact, it would be pretty damn good.
I finished first. Ethan cleared his plate quickly after I did, and he took both of our empty plates over to the sink.
“Netflix and chill?” he asked, wriggling his eyebrows.
I bit the inside of my cheek. “We’re not going to fight over the remote again, are we?”
“Yes. Because if you fall on top of me again, you’re staying there.” His eyes flashed with heat, and my cheeks flushed at what he was saying.
Okay, then.
I sat on the sofa, tucking my feet beneath my butt. I was there first, so I was the one who had control of the remote. “Muahahaha,” I cackled, turning on the TV before Ethan had even sat down.
He made an annoyed noise and sat down next to me. “What are we watching?”
“I don’t know.” I paused as Netflix loaded. “Why don’t you pick?”
“Hand over the remote, then.”
“As if. I’m not falling for that.”
“Why? Because you don’t want to be on top of me?”
“I can climb on top of you if I want. But no, I’m not falling for it because I’m not going to get roped into watching some shit TV and not be able to change it. At least this way I’m in control of the shows.”
“Fuck. Okay. Fine. Did you finish that royal show you were—” Ethan grabbed me and yanked me over the sofa.
Screaming, I fell on top of him. Not at all elegantly or sexily.
Nope. Like a big pile of bricks clattering to the ground.
“Ethan.”
“That didn’t work, did it?”
“No.” I sat back up, pausing only to retrieve the remote from the floor. I knelt next to Ethan, focused on the TV screen. I flicked through a few shows, but nothing jumped out at me.
So I did the smart thing.
I jumped Ethan instead.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – AVA
A Dick A Day Keeps Stress Away
I moved, swinging my leg over his thighs so I was straddling him. He laughed, almost as if he was expecting me to do it.
I grinned, circling his neck with my arms. “It’s the sweatpants.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” He ran his hands up my thighs, sliding them over the curve of my ass. He pulled my hips against him so that my pussy was pressed against his cock that was already getting hard. “It’s the panties, for what it’s worth.”
I leaned down, bringing my nose close to his. “I know. That’s why I put them on.”
Ethan slid his hand up my back until his fingers brushed the nape of my neck. He moved his arm so his fingers curled around my neck, and he pulled my lips against his.
It was a slow kiss, one that I felt all through my body. My toes curled in the best way, and I slipped my fingers into his hair. The pounding of my heart was insane, and I gasped when Ethan’s grip on my hip tightened.
His fingertips dug into my skin, sending shoots of pleasure through me.
I rocked my hips against him, pushing myself right against his hard cock. I wanted him, and if he was going to blow me off like he did last night, I was going to kill him.
End of.
His body was solid beneath my touch, and I explored his shoulders and stomach with my hands. He was doing the same, running his hands up and down my thighs, beneath my shirt, cupping my ass. Every touch sent fire sparking across my skin, and I just wanted more.
More touching.
More feeling.
More of whatever this consuming, addictive sensation was.
Ethan slid both his hands up my sides, pulling shirt up. The fabric rolled up over my breasts, and we broke the kiss long enough for it to go over my head and onto the floor.
His movements were swift. First, his hands cupped my breasts, then his mouth lowered to my nipple, his tongue toying with it. I gasped, moving my hips, desperate to feel more from him.
He explored me, this time with his mouth. He went from nipple to nipple, across my collarbones, my neck—kisses dotted along my skin, all desperate, needy, forceful touches.
I responded by gripping his arms tightly, by offering myself to him entirely.
But it wasn’t enough. Somehow, it just wasn’t enough.
More, more, more.
I adjusted myself so my mouth found his. I kissed him greedily, like I was drowning, and he was the oxygen I craved.
He groaned into my mouth, and it was so good I could barely breathe. Together, we moved, switching places. He kissed me one more time, a long, deep kiss that had my thighs clenching.
He pulled away, chuckling. He knew because he was between them. He was exactly where I wanted, but he was wearing two items of clothing too many.
Ethan stood up and took a few steps toward the island. He grabbed the condom from the counter, shooting me a quick grin. I bit the inside of my cheek. I couldn’t focus on anything other than his slick movements.
He pulled down his sweats, revealing his hard cock. No underwear. I shouldn’t have been surprised because it was the kind of shit he’d pull, but I was too focused on his long, thick shaft to say anything.
“My eyes are up here, Ava,” he muttered in a husky voice.
My cheeks flushed, but I doubt he noticed. I was hot from head to toe, so my cheeks were already perpetually blushing tonight.
He tore open the condom packet and reached down, rolling it over the thick head of his cock. I squirmed on the sofa—there was something so inexplicably sexy watching him roll it onto himself.
He approached me just as quickly as he’d left, and he slipped between my legs without saying a word. He took my mouth in a hungry, desperate kiss that had his tongue battling against mine. His fingers probed my skin, eliciting a shiver that I felt all over my body.
Jesus.
I didn’t want this to stop.
He broke the kiss only to move back. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my panties and tugged, sliding them down my legs until I was completely bare in front of him.
Bare. Exposed. Needy.
That summed me up in that exact second.
I yanked him back to me, sending our mouths crashing together. I nipped his bottom lip by accident, but he groaned, shoving one hand under my ass. He used it to lift my hips and sat back, looking down between us.
His cock twitched, but he didn’t rush.
No, he was painfully, frustratingly slow.
He moved his hand down the inside of my thigh, his thumb coming dangerously close to my clit.
No, not dangerously close.
It was on my clit.
He moved it through the slick wetness of my pussy until I gasped, then with a wicked smile on his face, he found my clit once more.
One, two, three times, he rubbed it, circling the tender bundle of nerves and playing it like a piano. Expertly, he teased me until my legs clenched and my back arched.
He watched the entire time. A greedy, needy look in his eyes, one that made the orgasm hit even harder when it came.
I bucked against his hand, begging for more when I wasn’t sure I could take it.
He gave it, though. He gave it until I dropped my hips, exhausted, and panting from the pleasure he’d just given me.
He chuckled, then lifted his thumb to his mouth. He sucked it, tasting me, before he leaned down and kissed me.
The taste of me lingered on his tongue.
He dragged my lower lip between his teeth. He reached down and rubbed his cock against my wetness before finding the sweet spot where I’d take him.
I did so easily.
He slipped right inside me, my muscles constricting around his hard cock. He rocked inside of me. My entire body tensed when he covered my body with his, tilting my hips to take him deeper.
Sweet baby Jesus.
I gasped, but he swallowed it with one kiss. His groan went the same way my gasp did, swallowed by the kiss we shared.
“Fuck,” he murmured against my lips. “You feel good.”
“Stop talking, then,” I breathed, tilting my head back and exposing my neck to him.
He pressed firm kisses to my neck and moved his hips against me. His cock slid in and out of me, each thrust a dangerous summoning of the orgasm I knew was going to take me again.
My nails dug into his shoulders. It was like an anchor for me as he fucked me and threatened to send me soaring. His body inside of mine was everything I wanted, everything I needed, everything I craved in that second.
It was like he was made for me.
Our synchronicity was terrifying, but it was hard to focus on that when you were being fucked to kingdom come.
Which was, actually, what I was about to do.
Come.
His name left my lips in a high-pitched cry as the pleasure reached a crescendo inside me. The orgasm was a blurring mess that made my back arch and my body tighten. The hairs on my arms all stood on end, and I dug my nails so far into Ethan’s shoulders that there was every chance I broke the skin.
His release was a low yet tight rumble of my name that skated across my consciousness as I fought to come back to reality. He sagged on top of me, his body hot and heavy, both of us totally spent from the whole thing.
“Jesus,” he breathed into my ear after a moment of us both panting heavily into each other’s shoulder. His lip brushed across my neck, but it was the heat of his exhale that sent yet another shiver down my spine. “Why didn’t we do that sooner?”
I laughed, wrapping my arms around him in a proper hug. “Because you made excuses, then kicked me out last night. That’s not on me.”
“Shit. I knew I should have gone against all my principles and fucked you sooner.”
I patted his shoulder, rolling my head to the side. My gaze landed on a very, very unexpected voyeur. “Ethan?”
“Mm?” He kissed my shoulder again and again.
“Remember how you kicked me out last night because you didn’t want to corrupt Mr. Prickles?”
“Ava, my dick is still inside you. Are we going to have this conversation now?”
“We corrupted your hedgehog.”
He pulled back, meeting my eyes. “What?”
I pointed toward the spiky pig who was watching us from my shoe. What was the obsession with my shoes? “He escaped. He’s corrupted.”
Ethan contorted his body so he could see where I was pointing. “Goddamn it, he’s like fucking Houdini. You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve found him running amok in my bedroom when you weren’t here.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Nothing.” He dropped back down and kissed me again, another one of those long, lingering kisses that sent my entire body into overdrive. “He’s already corrupted. Let’s do it again.”
EPILOGUE - ETHAN
Always and… Hedgehogs
One Year Later
“I don’t know how this happened.” Ava stood with her hands on her hips, staring at the cage.
“Well,” I said, peering into it over her shoulder. “I’m going to say it’s because we put a mommy and daddy hedgehog together and didn’t give them any condoms.”
She shoved her elbow into my gut, and I hissed out a breath.
To be fair, I deserved that.
“Babies. Eight of them. Ethan, I’m not even sure I like Mr. Prickles.”
“You’re so full of shit. You’ve been all over Barbie since we rescued her.”
“You rescued her,” she corrected me. “And Barbie is a stupid name for a hedgehog.”
“All names are stupid for hedgehogs. Literally none of them make sense.” I slung my arm over her shoulder. “I feel like a proud dad.”
“Why? Did you make them?”
“It’s validating to see Mr. Prickles as a father. I raised him well.”
She raised one eyebrow as she looked at me. “He’s a randy hedgehog who watched us have sex one too many times. Get over yourself.”
I loved it when she kept my ego in check. “Still, that’s a lot of kids.”
“You’re not getting any ideas, are you?”
“Why? Don’t you want eight kids? I was hoping for eleven.”
“Eleven?”
“To have my own soccer team.”
Ava stepped away from me and pressed one finger against my chest. “Okay, no. Unless science discovers how to put a uterus in your colon and make you birth a child out of your ass, it’s not happening. One is bad enough.”
I slid one hand down her body and pressed it against her still-flat stomach. When she’d screamed at me six weeks ago that her period was late and that she was going to fucking murder me if I’d gotten her knocked up, I’d genuinely feared for my life.
Since I was still here six weeks later and had indeed knocked her up by accident, I was feeling a little better about my safety.
“All right, so it wasn’t planned.” I cupped her cheek. “But you’re not mad at me. Not really.”
If looks could kill… Maybe I shouldn’t be too cocky about my safety.
“You didn’t spend two hours alternating between throwing up and peeing this morning,” she shot back. “One time, I threw up into my pee, Ethan. This isn’t glamorous.”
“Well, at least I missed that at work.”
“Ugh!” She smacked me and walked out into the kitchen.
Boxes littered the apartment. Some stacks were five high, and others were only one or two, but it was a little like a maze trying to get around.
Ava reached out to move one and got tape stuck to her hand. She flailed with it for a moment before I darted to her rescue and freed her from her sticky prison.
Probably so
mething I should have done a few weeks ago, to be honest…
“How many more days?” she asked, pulling apple juice from the fridge. “How many days until I no longer have to fear death by cardboard box?”
“Three.” I kept my distance on the other side of the island. “Three days.”
“I suppose I can handle that.” She scanned the room as the front door opened. “Unless I throw up on them all.”
“Ugh, are you still throwing up everywhere?” Leo strolled in and took one look at her and stepped back. “Man, being pregnant gives you one hell of a stomach bug, huh?”
Ava blinked. “How did you—”
“You’ve been throwing up for three or four weeks. That’s one persistent bug.” Leo smacked me on the shoulder. “I can’t decide if I want a niece or nephew. I think fun Uncle Leo is fucked either way with you two as their parents.”
I smiled over at Ava. She was looking anything other than happy, but that was her hormones. She was only happy if I came back with pizza.
Ironically, she now couldn’t stand pepperoni.
It was like all my Christmases had come at once.
I wasn’t telling her that, though.
She sighed, sitting on a stool. “Oh, I’m too tired to argue with you. Eight baby hedgehogs and one human one are too exhausting for words.”
“Barbie gave birth, then.” Leo opened the Doritos and stuck his hand in. “Stupid name for a hedgehog.”
“Thank you,” Ava muttered. “I don’t even like them, and now I have ten.”
“It could be worse. You could be Halley,” I offered.
“Is she throwing up into her hair every day?” she shot back.
“Unless she’s part of your experiment,” Leo started, “No. But she does have Boris Jr. living on a cat tower in her utility room, remember?”
Ah. Of course. Boris had, once again, knocked up Betty, and earlier this year, one of the babies had almost died. Halley had taken the runt of the litter in and nursed him through until he was healthy enough to go back to Betty, but he’d refused.
Then he’d humped Preston’s shoe.
Thus the name Boris Jr. It now refused to live outside and had his very own cat tower, where he fought for dominance with the actual cat they’d adopted a few months ago.