Page 155 of Rut Bar

It’s done. I’m fully claimed, and so are they. And in the tangled mess of blankets and limbs, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.

ChapterForty-Two

VERONICA

“We’regonna need to buy a new washing machine when we’re done,” I say as I scrunch my nose at the sight of all the cum and fluids dried onto the sheets. “Might be better to throw these out and buy new ones.”

Despite buying so many sets of sheets for this very reason, none of the boys had the courage to change the sheets during our four-day fuck fest. Apparently I growled whenever they tried. I can’t see any hope of salvaging these. They’re… Wrecked is too light of a word for it.

Brendan takes the crunchy sheets from me and tosses them into the plastic basket, then drops a kiss onto the top of my damp hair. We’re all fresh from the shower, and I’ve been scrubbed pink and lotioned.

“I bought a laundry detergent that has special enzymes in it,” he says. “We’ll let it soak before we wash them. It’ll be fine.”

“Breakfast!” Anthony yells from the kitchen.

Brendan takes the mountain of dirty laundry toward the washer and dryer off the garage while I stretch out my sore limbs and head into the kitchen. I expect to see Anthony setting plates of food on the kitchen table while Jamie cooks eggs or something. I don’t expect to see Anthony jerking Jamie off.

Jamie grips the edge of the table and moans, his hips bucking as he thrusts into the tight ring of Anthony’s fingers. How the alpha has any cum left in his balls, I have no idea.

After being locked in his chastity cage for the first three days of my heat, he spent the last one balls deep inside me every chance he got. His cum dripped all the way to my ankles. If it weren’t for the waterproof mattress protector, we’d be driving to Nested right now to buy a new one.

I stand and watch them, equal parts amused and concerned. How is his dick not chafed? My pussy is sore. I’m tempted to see if we have an ice pack in the freezer to sit on while I coax something solid into my queasy stomach.

“Hungry, baby?” Anthony asks me. He glances up, his mouth twisting into a grin that makes his cheek dimple. “Yours will be ready in a minute.”

“What…” That’s when I see the piece of perfectly golden toast sitting on a plate before Jamie’s dripping cock. Droplets of cum splatter over it like white dots of icing. They soak into the piece of toast. Jamie moans, his hips slowing to deep thrusts.

“That’s it, babe,” Anthony coaxes. “Let’s feed our girl what she needs. Give her what she craves.”

I stare in mute fascination as Jamie’s chin hits his chest. As his fingers squeeze the edge of the table that bangs against his big thighs. As his ass cheeks clench, that divot forming as he bucks.

His first spurt goes wide. It lands on the plate and table more than the toast, before Anthony adjusts the angle of his grip. He grabs that bulging knot with his other hand and squeezes. Jamie’s moan deepens. Anthony aims Jamie’s cock so the next lashes of cum paint it white.

Semen coats the perfect slice of buttered toast like icing until it puddles and drips down the side, making a sticky mess on the plate.

Once Jamie’s spent, Anthony lets him go and gives him a pat on the ass, then picks the plate up and sets it on my placemat.

Absolutely not.“I’m not eating that.”

Anthony quirks one brow, lifting his cum-splattered hand to his mouth to lick it clean. His hair flops into his face as his tongue darts out to lap up an errant streak of cum. “You’re not hungry?”

My stomach twists with hunger and I hate how my mouth is watering as I stare at the cum-splattered toast.

No. That’s… No fucking way. That’s gross. It’s a step too far.“I’m not eating that.”

“No? Okay, baby.” Anthony doesn’t seem perturbed by my rejection as he swipes a bit of the cum off the plate and lets it drip onto the center of the toast.

I watch, enraptured, as the long strand stretches. The droplet at the end grows fat. It breaks. Falls. He sticks his finger in his mouth and sucks it clean, then pulls it out with a wet pop.

“I thought toast would be easiest, but we can put it in a smoothie instead,” Anthony says. “Give Jamie a few minutes to recover and we’ll make you another one of your special drinks.”

Jamie drags his chair out and slumps into it with a tired grunt.

“Another one of…” It takes a minute for my post-heat thick head to wrap around his words. My special drinks. The drinks Anthony’s been bringing me for weeks. They’re all tropical flavored. Pineapple and… coconut. His drink specials used to be varied. Inventive. I thought he was on a beachy themed kick or something.

My teeth click as I snap my open mouth shut. “Don’t tell me you’re feeding me cum in my food,” I growl.

“Hmm? Okay, I won’t tell you then.” Anthony nudges my plate forward an inch. “Don’t tell me you don’t want it. That your mouth isn’t wet for it. That it won’t be the most delicious thing we could make for you all day. A meal you won’t immediately go throw up while your stomach is settling back into the rhythm of solid food.”

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