Page 113 of Butterfly Effect

“What a wimp.” Skylar strolls up in a frilly, yellow Victorian-style dress. Jaeg stands behind her, but their size difference doesn’t hide the muscles bulging in every direction from his tiny loincloth. She takes a Jell-O shot without a sound.

“Are you seeing this, Freckles?” I complain, motioning with my hand. The whisky kicks in, loosening all the taut wrinkles in my brain. “I coulda worn that! Look how slutty Jaeg looks.”

Gabe hums and kisses my jaw, waking goosebumps and hardening my nipples. She lowers her voice to a whisper.

“Maybe I don’t want anyone else to see you like that.” Her tongue flicks my ear lobe. “Maybe I’d get jealous.”

My dick is more confused than I am. This woman has me so fucked up.

Speaking of jealousy, Fletch winces over a beer. “When I die alone, bury me with my books.”

Gabe swivels to him. “What’d you say?”

Fletcher turns the color of a bright, ripened tomato, the same as his oval, painted-on nose. He mumbles. “N-nothing.”

“And what’s this costume?” I point to his orange and brown-spotted foam get-up and flick a cat ear, then motion to the backward paws on his feet and the dog face attached to his ass. “You’re a cat and a dog?”

He rolls his eyes and gets on all fours. “I’m CatDog.”

“I don’t get it.”

“You might be a little young for that one.” Landon draws his mouth to one side and hides it behind a hand, tilting to me. “He’s his own date.”

“It’s okay, buddy.” Indi soothes Fletch with a gentle pat when he stands again. “Can we sit down? These sandals are killing me.”

We migrate to the couch, finding our spots musical-chairs style. Landon unties the straps crisscrossing Indi’s ankles and calves, then props her feet across his lap. She sighs out a hum of relief.

Do they have to be so cute?

Skylar and Jaeger claim the other end, and we force Masterson and a couple of rookies to scooch. Fletcher squeezes in next to me. I throw him a glare.

“She’s a genius for making you dress as Ron Stoppable.”

“Shut up.”

“Where’s the naked mole rat?”

I refer with my eyes to my crotch.

“Ew. You’re gross.”

Freckles bunches her fists at her hips.

“Where am I supposed to sit?”

“Right here, baby.” I smack both thighs, spreading them apart to make room for her. She doesn’t hesitate, and I instantly regret the suggestion.

“Fuck me,” I mutter inside my own mouth. But she reclines to my front and is within earshot.

“Maybe later,” she mutters back, ass shifting up and down, working my cock until it’s so hard, it aches. I can’t focus on anything but her goddamn perfect ass.

My fingers dig into her hips. “Stop that.”

Gabe ignores my warning and flashes me a glare. “What was your question?” she asks Daphne.

Her name’s not Daphne, but that’s who she’s dressed as, and I couldn’t care less about any woman other than the one reverse-cowgirling me through my pants.

Fuck, that’s what I want. Her riding me so hard I can’t see. But not in front of everyone.

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