Page 36 of Smith

No strike for that region.

“We’re fucked,” Zane angrily announced.

I wasn’t currently being fucked, but I’d like to be, which meant Mr. Crotchety had to get off the phone.

“Here, talk to Smith,” I said as I walked the phone to the shower and held it out in front of me.

Smith’s eyes narrowed like he’d already figured out my course of action.

He shook his head but took his phone. That left me free to follow through with my plan.

“Where’s the fire?” Smith asked, still eyeing me with suspicion.

Without preamble I bent forward and licked the water from his stomach, going lower, and lower, and lower, until his fist wrapped around my hair, halting my progress.

“I’d say in your pants but I’m praying I’m wrong,” Zane barked.

Damn. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

I attempted to continue my travels to the promised land but Smith held tight.

Surely he wouldn’t scalp me, would he?

I added my force, and his grip loosened enough for me to renew my adventure.

“It’s not even six,” Smith noted. “Is there a reason you’re starting early with the joy this morning?”

“Rose was up early. I thought I’d take my opportunity to waylay any morning activities and remind you what happens if you touch Captain Taylor’s daughter.”

I smiled against Smith’s happy trail, then gave him a lick from root to tip. Happy to feel his cock respond to me and not his boss’s silly threat.

“Zane,” Smith fumed. “It’s too early for?—”

“Ivy,” Zane yelled. “I need more boob juice.”

My head came up, my gaze went to Smith, and I widened my eyes until they felt like they were bugging out of my head.

“Did he say boob juice?” I asked.

Smith didn’t answer, Zane did. “Breast milk is healthiest for a baby.”

“She’s not a baby and shouldn’t she be drinking milk by now?” Smith asked.

“Don’t listen to the idiot, my sweet baby Rose. You can have all of Mommy’s milk for as long as you want it.”

Well if that wasn’t a mood killer I didn’t know what was.

“I’m going to kick you in the penis if you keep calling breast milk boob juice. And she’s being weaned,” a woman said.

“You can’t kick me in the balls, you’ve already cut them off.”

“No one cut off your balls, Zane. It’s called a vasectomy. Do we need to have another chat?—”

“You should go let your wife explain the ins and out of?—”

“Sure,” Zane cut in. “As long as we’re clear there’s to be no in and outing on your end.”

I smiled at Smith. He didn’t return my smile or my amusement at the situation. Though a quick look downward toldme his cock might not have found anything funny but it sure did find something exciting if being half hard was any indication.

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