Page 78 of Kiss, Kill, Thrill Me, Daddy

TATUM

Flashes. They’re all I see.

Abi’s face, inches from mine. Mom and Dad hovering over me, asking if I’m okay. Scotty poking me in the cheek, repeatedly stating, “Wake up, wake up, wake up.” There are visions of faces I don’t know. Men and women in white lab coats who look like doctors. Brody carrying me somewhere. A bumpy ride. Light barreling into my vision, making me wince. A familiar room, though I can’t really place it. Then, darkness.

It feels like I’ve slept for decades. My body is stiff and sore all over, and as I try to stretch, I realize my leg is restrained. Opening my eyes, I’m shocked to find I’m back at home, lying in our bed. I’m not exactly sure how or why I’m back at the Winawana Wagon House, but somehow, I am. I look to my left, expecting to see Abi, but the bed is empty.

Jolting up, I glance around the room, hoping to find Fee or Scotty, but the room is empty. Thankfully, my phone is on the bedside table, and the handcuff used to secure my leg to the bed frame doesn’t prevent me from reaching it.

Once I’ve got the phone unlocked, I’m greeted by a new background selection. It’s an overhead image of Abi and myselfcuddled up next to each other in the trunk of his car, fast asleep. I’m assuming it was taken on the ride home, but aside from the mental flashes, I have no recollection of leaving Tallulah.

I bring up my contacts and attempt to call Abi, but his phone goes straight to voicemail. When he doesn’t answer, I bring up my biffle’s contact and hit call. It doesn’t even fully ring once before Scotty’s voice comes through the speaker.

“Tater Tot! You’re awake!”

“I am,” I say, my voice strained, my throat dry and cracked. There’s a bottle of water on the bedside table, and I take a swig; it stings as the liquid trickles down my sore throat. “When did we get home?”

He doesn’t respond, and when I look at the phone’s screen to make sure he’s still there, I realize he’s hung up on me. Rude.

Seconds later, the door to our cabin bursts open, and I have to do a double take. For reasons I don’t understand, Scotty’s wearing a hot-pink jockstrap and a magenta crop top. Why the hell is he wearing my signature ensemble?

“It’s about time, Tatum,” Scotty says, scowling at me. “I’ve been waiting for hours. We all have.” He reaches into the jockstrap, and for one truly terrifying moment, I think he might start masturbating for my viewing displeasure. Thankfully, that isn’t the case. When his hand emerges, he’s holding a small, silver key. There’s also a rather long pubic hair stuck to the key, but I choose not to point that out for fear of a vicious tongue lashing. He slides the key into the handcuffs and unlocks them, tossing the key over his shoulder when he’s done. I sit up, watching as he whirls around and heads toward the chest of drawers in the corner.

“Scotty?” I ask. He glances over his shoulder, smiling softly. “When did we get home?”

“Two days ago. Daddy said we should let you sleep, so he dosed you with the one of the heavy-duty serums he stole from the agency. I told him you’d be real mad if he did, but he saidhe’ll throw a toaster in the bathtub next time you shower if you give him hell for it. Please don’t give him hell for it, I don’t want you to die, Tatum.”

I roll my eyes. “Where’s Abi?”

“He’s in our cabin. Daddy’s helping him get ready. He said I should help you get into your outfit when you wake up, so here we are. Stand up so we can get this over with.” He turns around, and there’s another pink jockstrap in his hand, and my Abi’s Boy crop top. “So, here’s the thing.” He chucks the jockstrap at me, and it’s only now I realize I’m completely naked beneath the blanket. For fuck’s sake. How many people have seen my penis during my unconscious road trip, and why does the mental image of hundreds of men staring at my cock whilst I was sleeping have me leaking against the blanket? “We were going to stay in Texas for a few weeks while Kincaid recovered, but Daddy and Fee said it would be better to get you both home so you’re more comfortable. Don’t worry, though. Your mom and dad, and your shitty ex-boyfriends are here, so we’re not missing anyone for the big day.”

Beneath the blanket, I slide into the jockstrap. Scotty tosses the crop top to me once I’ve got the jock on, then he bends over, grabbing my makeup case from the floor. Unfortunately, with Scotty wearing only a jockstrap, his entire asshole is on display. I make the decision not to call him out on it, because last time I did, we got into an hour-long war of words over which of us has the prettiest hole. Spoiler alert: yours truly. I put on the crop top and push pack the blanket, slowly rising out of the bed. Every muscle aches, but I’m able to push past the pain.

“Wait, what big day?”

Scotty rolls his eyes as he sets the makeup case on the bed. “Your wedding, silly. Listen, I’m real sorry. I asked Daddy to break the news, but he refused. He said I’m a big boy, and big boys have to take accountability.”

“What the hell are you blabbering about?” Standing on mytoes, I stretch my arms as high as they’ll go, trying to loosen my stiff body. Scotty’s already pulled out a pink eyeshadow pallet and a tube of bubblegum-pink lip gloss and set them beside the case. Next, he places black eyeliner and a tube of mascara at their side. Patting the empty space on the bed, Scotty welcomes me over.

“See, the thing is, I couldn’t wait any longer. I know I promised to get married with you, but I didn’t want to wait another day to become Scotty Frost. You understand, don’t you? You were asleep for so long, and I really, really wanted to finally be married. Please don’t be mad, Tater Tot.” He bites his bottom lip, studying my expression. Truthfully, I don’t really care if he married Brody without me, but it does sting knowing I wasn’t there for him. He reaches over the makeup case and squeezes my hand. “Don’t be mad, okay? I love you.”

The admission makes me smile, and I squeeze his hand. “I love you, too.”

A wide, bright smile splits his face as he hands a makeup brush to me. “I’m glad. You don’t know how scared I was.”

I tighten the grip I’ve got on his hand and lean in, kissing his forehead. It’s an action that would earn me a death threat if his overbearing boyfriend—well, husband now, I suppose—were here. “I just wish I could have been there for you, babes.”

He lets go of my hand and grabs his phone. He’s had it wedged between his hip and the elastic band of his jockstrap the whole time, so when he pulls it away, there are beads of sweat across the screen. He rubs the screen against his jockstrap’s pouch, and whether he’s doing it to dry the glass, or if he’s just feeling a little horny, I’m not entirely sure. He tinkers with the screen for a second before holding out for me. He’s got a picture pulled up, and as I study it, my mouth falls open.

In the photograph, Scotty’s standing at a small, makeshift altar in the concrete waiting room, back at the agency. Scotty and Brody are standing in front of each other, their hands lockedtogether, their gazes unwavering. To my horror, I’m in a wheelchair, my eyes closed, my mouth hanging open, drool trickling down my chin. I’m wearing a hospital gown with no underwear beneath. For some reason, the gown is hiked up past my knees, giving anyone present an unobstructed view of ... Jesus Christ. My cock is fully erect in the photograph.

“What the fucking fuck?” I shriek. “Please tell me my family was already gone.”

Scotty shakes his head. “Everyone was there. I just told you that. Keep up, please.” He sighs dreamily as he stares at the picture. “It was such a beautiful ceremony. I wish Meadows didn’t drug you and Kincaid. You would have loved it if you’d been awake. Especially the part where ... well, swipe left and see for yourself.”

I’m too scared of what I’ll find to follow his instruction, so he grabs the phone and sighs. When he hands it back to me, a video of Brody and Scotty is playing, me in a wheelchair at their side. Scotty mentions Abi’s name in his vows, and to my horror, the moment the name leaves his lips, my hard cock swells and I ejaculate onto my hospital gown.

“Oh, my fucking Goddess,” I whisper, shaking my head in disbelief. “Tell me no one saw.” As my on-screen orgasm subsides, there’s a loud, thunderous round of applause from the onlookers.

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