Page 81 of Breeding Clinic

Matthew pulls the blanket off. She makes a sigh that’s sleepy and content and tightens her arms around my neck as I hoist us out of bed and carry her to the bath.

Gabriel starts the shower and makes it warm. Not too hot. Once it’s ready, I set her down and make sure her legs aren’t wobbly. I step in behind her. The shower’s too small for it, but that doesn’t stop me. I help her get her hair wet and lather shampoo through it, rinsing the fragrant suds free to circle down the drain.

I take special care to soap up her body, cleaning her thoroughly while she runs conditioner through her hair and rinses that out too. I’m gentle between her thighs in case she’s chafed. Her pussy is still swollen and throbbing when I clean her there, ignoring the way her hips rock against my hand. I wash the cum and slick and lube off her.

Matthew bundles her into a fluffy towel and helps her dry her hair while I shower quickly. We take turns, the hot water running out before all of us are done. We’ll need a better water heater once we’re in the house. With all the kids we’re gonna have, I wonder if a tankless style would be better.

At the sink, we take turns brushing our teeth in the narrow bathroom. It’s all elbows bashing into one another, but the domesticity of it makes my instincts happy. I don’t mind the small, tight spaces. It’s den-like. Easier to protect the pack if we’re all shoved together.

We climb into our too small bed, naked and wedged together in a puppy pile underneath the blankets. Kat falls asleep nearly instantly, and I lie awake a bit, looking between my packmates. Gabriel gives me an easy smile from across her. I tug Matthew closer to me and pull his leg over mine as hespoons me sideways. He tucks his head up against my neck, his breath warm against my throat.

The room smells like sex and musk and pheromones. Like a plate of Christmas cookies sitting on the windowsill of a house in a snowy, winter landscape. A fire in the hearth roaring, making smoke as the logs crackle and pop while snow covers the woods in a blanket of gentle white peace.

It smells like pack, and it’s perfect.

Chapter Eighteen

MATTHEW

The mailbox squealsas I open its metal lid and find a thick packet of letters inside. The return label is my cousin’s office address.It’s here.Our copy of the papers from the lawyers. We signed them yesterday, and they overnighted us copies for our records.

Liam’s gonna lose his mind. He’s been planning this night for weeks, before Kat dropped the house bomb on us and sped up his timeline.

I slip past the crowd and stop short. The pub is way too packed for a weekday when there’s no game on. Gabriel spots me from his place at the bar where he and Kat are sitting while Liam covers someone’s absence.

He works too hard. Does too much. He can afford to hire more staff, but to be honest, I think he likes it. Likes feeling needed. As if O’Donnell’s wouldn’t feel as homey and friendly without an O’Donnell behind the bar. Maybe he’s right. I don’t understand much about family legacies. I threw a wrench in my parent’s plans when I decided not to go to law school. But I like my job at the bank. The hours are good. I get weekends and holidays off. It’s a solid career.

“Hey. How was work?” Kat asks me.

“Same as always,” I answer.

“I have to pee again. Save my seat.” Kat pulls herself off her bar stool and walks to the bathroom. I watch her go. She waddles now. It’s cute.

“Want a beer?” Gabriel asks, signaling to the bartender for service.

“Yeah.” I take Kat’s seat to keep it warm for her and to prevent someone else from snagging it. “What’s going on? Why’s it so crowded?”

“Word leaked that some famous athlete is in town,” Gabriel says, looking around. “I guess he comes here from time to time. I think everyone’s hoping to catch a glimpse.”

“I got this. Go serve those guys,” Liam says to his bartender. “Hey. I’ve got a new coffee ale in. Want to try it?”

“Sure.” I watch the pub while Liam pulls a beer for me and sets it down.

The crowd thickens, voices rising as they congregate around someone who just arrived. The gossip makes its way back to us. It’s the athlete. Napkins get thrust at him for signing, and a few people ask for selfies. I watch it all in amusement, wondering if we’re going to need to put someone on the door to fight overcrowding and keep the fire marshall happy.

Eventually the athlete makes his way over to the bar, pausing to chat with people. I recognize him vaguely, but can’t place his name. I’ve never been as into sports as Liam and Gabriel are.

“Oh, shit,” Gabriel says. “That’s Fischer. He’s a football star. His team made it to the World Cup last year.”

After a bit of schmoozing, the athlete finally makes his way to the bar. Someone gives up their seat for him in exchange for an autograph on their damp coaster.

“Hey, man. Can I get your…” His eyes scan the weekly beer menu chalk painted on a blackboard. “I’ll try your chocolate stout.”

“Sure.” Liam pours the athlete’s beer into a snifter. “Here you are. Need a menu?”

“Nah. I’m having dinner with the family in a bit. Wanted to pop in for a pint and cool off. It’s hot out there. I used to come here whenever I was visiting my family on break from college. It sure hasn’t changed, huh? Still looks the same as it used to.”

“Yeah,” Liam says, cleaning glasses in the sink under the bar. “Nothing’s changed except the owner, but it's family-owned.”

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