Page 23 of Pucking Billionaire

Ah.

Right.

We’ve arrived at my not-so-humble abode.

“Yeah.” I take it all in once again. “It’s big.”

She grins. “That’s what you’ll say to Mason one of these days.”

Before I can come up with a retort, Effie leaps out of the entrance and bows like a proper butler.

Abigail’s eyes gleam as she takes in all the ink adorning Effie’s skin.

“Abigail, this is Effie, the butler,” I say.

“Do you have a brother?” Abigail blurts.

Seriously? Even if she does, it’s not like tattoos are genetic.

“I’m an only child,” Effie says, her expression confused. “Why?”

Because my friend wants to have sex with your non-existent sibling—and maybe with you too, at least a little.

“No reason,” Abigail says, blushing. “You just seemed like the type.”

The type to have a brother? Is it a certain deadness in the eyes that a sister develops after enduring countless stupid pranks?

“Would you like another tour?” Effie asks, changing the subject.

Nice save. “Yes, please,” I say. “I’m not familiar enough with the place to do it justice.”

This is how I get another walkthrough and Abigail gets her first. A few times I have to elbow my friend because whenever she spots a representation of turtles, she giggles maniacally, which makes her sound like Floki from Vikings.

“Ready to see the gardens?” Effie asks.

Abigail nods.

We head over to Donatello and April’s domain and find them doing exactly the same thing they were doing the last time I was here: humping like rabbits, though I think I might henceforth change that expression to “humping like tortoises.”

“Wow,” Abigail whispers. “That’s a big bang.”

I grin at her.

“Don’t stop,” we suddenly hear Acadia scream at Donatello. The doctor clearly hasn’t noticed us approaching or doesn’t care if she’s overheard. “Keep going. Just like that. Yes. Yes. Yes!”

Effie and I exchange confused glances while Abigail whispers, “Rule 34.”

I believe Rule 34 states something along the lines of “whatever it is, it’s someone’s porn,” and if so, my friend is right. The good doctor may just have a little fetish for big reptiles doing it, but who am I to kink-shame when I get wet at the sight of a fist?

“Want to see the garage?” I whisper to Abigail.

She nods and we head over there, where Abigail chuckles at the sight of the turtle-like Beetle.

“What’s next?” I ask Effie.

The butler shrugs. “You tell me. You’ve seen the whole house now.”

I scratch my head. “What about something like a kitchen?”

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