Chapter 22

Bunny

I’m pretty sure this is a Halloween costume.

Turning to the left, I admire where the white, faux fur cuts off right below my ass while nodding.

Yup.

This shit is definitely a Halloween costume.

Why did I let Posie convince me to buy this?!

Why am I wearing it?!

Who wears something like this to a Christmas festival?!

Better yet.

Who wears something like this to a Christmas festival when they’re pregnant?!

I turn the opposite direction and study my reflection a second time.

Okay.

Fine.

Maybe I’m wearing it because I’m pregnant?

Because I want the men in my life to see me as this sexy little thing, they can’t keep their hands off of versus the fragile female that’s only important because she’s housing their unborn child?

I shift myself forward and untuck the strands that managed to get caught underneath the red hood of the sexy, Mrs. Santa outfit I’ve put on, fuzzy trimmed boots and all.

Honestly?

I look phenomenal and this chunky black belt hides where my stomach is starting to pooch quite well.

Is part of me convinced that I’m too old to be dressing like this?

Yes.

One thousand percent yes.

But who really gets to decide that?

If I’m happy and comfortable in my own skin, in what I’ve got going on with me, isn’t that all that should matter?

Kind of like being in a relationship with two men instead of one?

I don’t let what other people may whisper about us get in my head.

Why should me strutting around in something that looks like I want you to ride me instead of a sleigh be any different?

Grabbing my small clutch and exiting our work in progress apartment is a complicated feat.

Between renovations, reorganizing, and Christmas preparations along with decorating, the entire space is one giant Home Alone tribute trap.

How we manage to have coffee or a meal in the kitchen is basically a baby in a manager miracle.

So, like in one column?

Very excited about the changes.

We’re building our home.

We’re building our family.

We’re building our lives.

Yet in the other?

I’m tired of stuff stuck to other stuff it shouldn’t be stuck to.

I miss being able to work comfortably in the living room while binging old sitcoms.

And I don’t know many more headaches I can pretend to have when they start arguing over paint colors – for the van and the nursery – before they’re onto me.

My arrival in the garage – to no surprise – isn’t immediately noticed due to Kipp being buried under the hood of Nolan’s tow truck and Nolan unhappily parked behind the wheel. “You’re fuckin’ sure, Kid?”

“I’m sure.”

“ Realllll fuckin’ sure?”

“ Reallll fuckin’ sure.”

“ Reallll, realllll fuckin’ sure?”

“Doesn’t matter how many reals you wanna put on it, I’m fuckin’ sure, Nolan.” All of a sudden, Kipp slams the hood down and plants his palms on top of it. “You checked the fuel gage. I checked the fuel gage. You checked again, and then had me spend hours running diagnostic tests for two days. Everything is coming up clean.” He lets his head fall sympathetically to one side. “You’re stressed about something, and I get the feeling it’s not about your truck, Sir.”

That’s because it’s not.

Not really.

The truck is more like a glaring miscalculation that’s a part of a much bigger equation, which includes being worried that he won’t be here when we need him the most.

That shit scares him more than anything to do with Brad who – by the way – has seemingly disappeared again.

Our love letter in bones and camera feed that couldn’t be traced has been followed by silence.

Complete.

And.

Total.

Silence.

Again.

That’s what’s keeping me up at night.

His outward tantrums are always more for show.

It’s his quiet calculating ones that typically reveal the real reasons to fear him.

His reach.

His power.

His resolve.

Rather than confess what’s actually troubling him, he kicks his chin in my direction. “Maybe it’s about our woman possibly freezing to death in that outfit.”

Kid whips his head around at the same time I sass, “It’s not even that cold out, Mutt.”

“Not with you wearin’ that, Rabbit.” He gives his collar a playful tug. “Feels like my nuts are being roasted over an open fire.”

“You look incredible, baby,” Kipp properly compliments on a crooked grin. “Like the only thing we want wrapped under our tree.”

“Or unwrapped ,” Nolan lightly chuckles. “I’m not that picky.”

“You two really do say the sweetest things.” More laughter echoes around the garage prior to me rolling a finger around. “Let’s get going, though. I don’t wanna miss the moment where they light the big tree.”

The annual Christmas festival actually doesn’t occur in the heart of the town like one would suspect.

No.

It occurs on the very outskirts, along the county border, where DC and CW meet, allowing both cities to bond together to create a lucrative, community-based experience for both areas considering how often their residents, as well as patrons, overlap.

While taking two vehicles isn’t my favorite – nor Kid’s – we understand it’s necessary given that Nolan’s on call.

Being not on call has been a less than fun argument the two of them increasingly get into that groaning about cramps – I may or may not actually have – thankfully momentarily pauses.

I probably shouldn’t exaggerate my feelings this much, but it’s such a handy tool.

And if my guys have taught me anything, it’s that all tools in the toolbox are meant to be used for something.

“ Relax, Kid, ” grumbles Nolan under his breath as he drops a loving arm around my shoulder. “It’s highly unlikely anyone’s gonna call tonight.”

“Yeah, but they could ,” he fusses while folding his fingers with mine, “and then you’ll have to go and miss our first Christmas festival together as a family.”

“I have to be on call because we have a family,” Mutt hisses, leaning slightly around me to do so. “The house we’re building, the baby we’re having, the… past …we’re…trying to put to rest,” he emphasizes with a firm expression, “aren’t fuckin’ free. And we ain’t exactly millionaires-”

“Far from it with the way you invest,” I playfully interject, only to receive a small swat to the ass by Nolan.

“Which means my ass has to be on call especially during the holiday season when the rates are damn near doubled for my services and the licensing board is more lenient on how many hours in a row you can grab.”

Kid’s light gray knit pullover covered shoulders slump in defeat.

“I won’t work Christmas,” Mutt swears for the third time today. “Remember?”

Our boyfriend nods, adjusts his hold on my hand, and we continue onward towards the back of the crowd that’s congregating together for the one thing I absolutely didn’t want to miss.

An announcer begins shortly upon our arrival; however, paying attention to the history of this event is abandoned for scouring the bustling scenes all around us. Trucks for hot chocolate and apple cider are sprinkled in between booths for crafting and contests. There are tables selling everything from candles to crocheted items to herbal infused remedies claiming to cure your cold or boost your immune system. Allowing my grin to grow bigger and bigger is easy, yet ignoring the feeling of someone watching me isn’t.

When you’ve been hunted this long and this hard by a stalker, you become very aware of when an unidentified individual is looking.

Or staring.

Or glaring.

“Light her up!” dramatically announces the male host with a theatrical lifting of his hands.

At that moment, the Christmas lights covering the tree begin illuminating the greenery from the bottom to the top, layer by layer, giving color and magic and life to the holiday symbol.

“It’s beautiful,” leaves me in almost a whisper prompting Nolan to wordlessly rest his head against the side of mine and Kid to lift our joined hands to his lips.

For just a moment, everything around us disappears.

It’s easy to forget about how they were just bickering.

How painful answering coroner questions was.

How much sleep we’re not getting.

For just one…brief…sweet moment…the only thing that truly matters is that we’re here.

Together.

Like our very own little Halmark holiday movie approved scene.

“ Ugh, ” someone loudly grumbles, cutting through the love filled bubble we have. “ Excuse. Me. ” A familiar face stomps past making sure to bump into me in particular during the process. “ You look like a whore. ”

“ You smell like one ,” I whisper back to Jolene with a wide mouth smile.

Another offended gag is given prior to her tugging some poor, defenseless male along behind her. “Faster, Paul! We haven’t got all night!”

“That’s because his wife will start looking for him if he comes home after eleven,” Mutt goads only to quickly receive a quirked eyebrow from the curly haired man.

“How did you know that?” Horror fuses itself into his expression. “Did she send you?!”

“ Paul! ” squeaks his date.

“Thirsty?” Kid inquires with a smug smirk. “Hungry?”

“Why wasn’t horny one of the options?” Mutt teases with a devilish smile.

“Because you’re always that,” I sass back, thankful that the feeling of being watched has dispersed, meaning it was most likely his ex causing the unsettling sensation.

“Complaint?”

“ Fact. ”

Our boyfriend laughs at Mutt’s glaring before diverting his full attention to me. “It’s your first festival, baby. It’s all about you.” Another kiss is delivered to the back of my hand. “What do you wanna do? Snowman bowling?”

“They’re just painted bowling pins,” Nolan immediately explains.

“Make it snowball?” Kipp lists a second choice.

“They’re just white basketballs you throw into a snowflake painted hoop,” his best friend informs.

“The discsnow?”

“Disco dancing in skis,” Mutt shoots him an amused glare, “to songs that were born long before you were, Kid.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t know them!”

“You don’t know an alarming amount of music,” I swiftly claim. “It’s why you’re not in charge of what we play on my stomach.”

“There’s nothing wrong with classical.”

“Yeah, but it shouldn’t be the only thing she or he hears.”

“ He ,” they obnoxiously correct in tandem.

“See, now, you two have me hoping it’s a girl out of pure spite.” Laughter leaves all three of us yet mine is stopped short when something in the far distance catches my attention. “Oh! How about a carriage ride?” My clutch wielding hand gestures that direction. “Pretty sure Posie said that it’s the only way to see all the light displays and ice sculptures.”

“You want a sleigh ride?” Mutt curiously questions.

“ Carriage ride .” The correction gets him chuckling again. “That’s not a sleigh. And there is no snow in this part of Texas. Just drunk and confused wind chills.”

We snicker together once more prior to heading for the activity.

Thankfully, there are multiple carriages, which allows for the line to move fairly quickly, but unfortunately for us, we end up behind the very woman we just ran into all because the people dividing us decide it's more important for their kid to see Santa than it is to keep us away from Satan.

“I love my diamond tennis bracelet,” Jolene dramatically says, winding her arm around his neck, gaze stealing glimpses of us. “You know just how to make a woman feel special. ” She twitches a glare at Mutt who is openly flirting with The Kid by tugging lightly on his sweater. “ Adored. ” Her smugness she’s determined to get to me, doesn’t. “ Wanted. ”

Glad that thesaurus app on her phone seems to be getting some good use.

“I can’t wait to really show you my appreciation,” she purrs to him yet remains making eye contact with me.

Which is needless to say… uncomfortable .

“I’ll bring you coffee Christmas morning wearing only a Santa hat if you jingle my bells Christmas Eve,” Kid states on a waggling of his eyebrows prompting our boyfriend’s ex to present me with a smug sneer.

Sure.

They’re flirting.

But it’s not like I’m uninvited.

Or that they’ve forgotten I’m here.

Her point from our last encounter hasn’t been proven.

“You’re lucky I’m not jingling your bells right now, Kid,” Mutt hungrily grumbles.

“ See ,” I join in the conversation, grateful for an easy segue into it. “ Always. Horny. ”

“Says the woman wearing lingerie in public making me that way.”

“It’s a dress!”

“Pretty sure it’s a costume,” Kipp lightly chortles while Jolene and Paul get into the next available carriage.

“How many tickets?” the woman at the nearby table politely inquires.

“Three,” Nolan informs at the same time he pulls out his wallet.

“Cash or card?”

“Card.”

“Treats?” she gestures to the basket at the other end of her small surface. “They’re a great way to have an extra great ride.”

“We think so too, don’t we, Rabbit?” Mutt teases with a wink.

“I’ve got those,” Kid volunteers before our boyfriend can stop him. “Cash.”

The two of them finish paying for our activity only mere seconds after our carriage arrives.

We each take a bag of the different fruits and cautiously approach our horse. We gently pet him, learn his name – Seamor – and present the offerings that he devours quite quickly. What’s left over, we give to the driver under the impression, he’ll continue to feed the creature later in the night with the remaining food.

Loading up into the carriage with me in the middle is followed by a smooth start and us sanitizing our hands courtesy of the liquid offered in the basket beside the festive blanket.

Despite not being asked, The Kid lovingly drapes the cover over all three of our laps, not only proving he’s capable of taking care of us, but that he wants to.

That he finds joy in it.

They both extend one arm along the edge behind me and use the position to lovingly stroke one another.

We openly admire the amazing ice sculptures.

Note their ingenuity.

Praise their creativeness.

We discuss the light displays we pass by and under.

We hum along to the holiday music being played by the live band yet as soon as we get deeper into the wooded area, we’ve somehow managed to catch up with Jolene’s carriage.

Bet she stressed her horse out so hard he needed a poop break.

Rather than complain about the view or minor delay, I let a dangerous but delicious idea take root.

“ Sir, ” I quietly purr pulling his attention over to me and away from the candy cane display, “ I need you to warm me up. ”

Wolfish groans are attached to him sliding his other hand underneath the blanket. “ Say please, you dirty little slut. ”

“ Please, ” slips free in tandem with me spreading my legs wider, knee purposely bumping into Kipp’s.

He instantly shifts his stare to the unseen sight, lets his hand do the same as our boyfriend’s, and whispers, “ Don’t let anybody hear you scream. ” Kipp leans over to allow his lips to brush the shell of my ear. “ Can you do that, good girl? ”

It’s almost impossible to swallow my whimpers, but I do.

And I do it while glaring at the woman who is pretending that she’s not curiously watching.

“ Open, ” Sir commands, hot breath feathering the space near my earlobe. “ Wider. ” Following his instruction has him slipping his mouth over to mine and finger across my thong covered clit. One swipe of his tongue delivered in tandem with one swipe of his thumb results in me already wanting to scream, yet when Kipp’s tongue unexpectedly joins us as his finger slips past the panty barrier, I can’t contain the whimpers scrambling to get loose.

Sir abruptly pulls back just enough to scold, “ You scream, you don’t come. ” He presses a little harder on the sensitive nub. “ Got it? ”

I dreamily nod, hooded gaze almost incapable of seeing we still have an audience.

His fingers slide underneath the material at the same time his mouth glides itself down the side of my neck.

Licking.

And nipping.

And licking again.

Rather than leave my mouth free to possibly get into trouble, the very place its headed, Kid takes control.

Clamps it closed with his.

Traps the increasing moans inside while the two of them do something surprising below.

Having one finger working me is what I predict.

Having them take turns is what I envision.

However, having them fold hands on top of my pussy, so that both of their middle fingers can fuck me together – as one – doesn’t cross my mind until the first push deep inside has me practically levitating off the seat.

“ Fuckin’ take ‘em both, you dirty little whore, ” Sir growls, teeth grating themselves up towards my jaw. Chin. “ Ride ‘em. ” Kid’s lips finally fall from mine. “ Show that bitch that’s watching, what she’s really jealous of. ”

A tiny guilt filled bite of my bottom lip is stolen.

Okay.

So, he knows.

Of course, he knows.

I wasn’t subtle about it, and neither was she.

But that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun with it.

Which is good.

Because that’s exactly what I intend to do.

Sir and Kid’s fingers curl together, touching the most sensitive spot they can find, not only forcing my back to arch, but my head to loll in the same direction while my hips eagerly buck forward, begging for more.

They gingerly slide their thick, joined hold back out, wetness soaking every inch of it on its way, yet the instant they reach the very edge, they roughly shove it back inside causing Mutt’s callous palm to crash into my clit.

Between the delectable force and inability to scream, I find myself whipping my head back and forth.

Tangling my arms around their necks.

Quietly panting against each of their faces as they slowly and repeatedly pound into me.

Stretch my sopping wet muscles further.

Tease my swollen nub faster.

Chomping down on the inside of my cheek is done out of desperation to hold in my screams, much like curling my toes inside my black boots; however, having to keep the noises muted leads to them being swallowed.

Felt in the hitches of my breath that happen when I frenziedly rock into their heaving.

Shudders shoot through every limb in my entire body pushing me to grind harder.

Greedier.

Needier.

“ Such a good girl, ” coos Kid in my ear in tandem with their thrusting. “ Such a good. ” A sharper push. “ Good. ” The next is deeper. “ Girl. ”

My entire frame tenses to the point I swear I’m gonna snap a bone.

Or ten.

“ You’re such a pretty little whore, ” Sir groans, voice practically air, palm drenched from my sticky juices. “ Our pretty little whore. ”

“ Our good girl. ”

Their oscillation of compliments causes additional wetness.

Tightness.

“ Our cum dumpster. ”

Shakes.

“ Our one and only. ”

Shivers.

“ Ours, ” gets unforeseenly growled in unison pushing me over the edge, leaving me with no choice but to throw my head backwards, screw my eyes shut, and silently howl into the star filled night sky above us while white-hot pulsations suck in their stiff digits deeper and deeper, reiterating their proclamation.

I am theirs.

And any time…day or night…private or public…they are mine.