Page 15 of CurVy Baby

I smile and blush. “I know.”

With that, I swing open the car door and rush to Donnie. He is staring at me as I jog over, watching every little wave of my body, scanning me for obvious issues. Already ready to fix what might have been broken.

I almost laugh at him, predictable in this way. I collide with him, right into his arms. Tobacco. Smoke. Earth. Musk. Donnie smells so different to Dexter. He covers me in those thick, powerful arms and holds me to his warm chest, heart a steady base within, as though I were the one back from a stint in prison, and he wants to fuse together.

“Pup,” is all he says, but kisses my crown.

Grumpy bastard.

“Is Molly okay?” I ask immediately, resting my chin on his chest and gazing up at him. Tight, dark brows umbrella deep blue eyes that watch over my head, locked on Dexter as he takes his backpack from the trunk.

“It’s Saturday morning. She is on the couch watching cartoons like normal. Normal routine, except her mum not being beside her.”

Savage…

I swallow my sneer as I ask, “And Tyler?”

“Playing,” he states flatly. “Hasn’t stopped except once to try to squeeze his cock but couldn’t come. Poor boy.”

I nod, blinking slowly. “I’ll go see him.”

His arms tighten around me. “Not yet, Pup.”

A happy sigh leaves me.

“Okay,” I accept. Donnie’s feelings shine in the smallest of gestures, in the cracks in his actions. And I see them—I see him.

“Where is my doorman?” Dexter asks, approaching us with his bags.

“We let them all go, except one,” I say, my stomach gnawing at guilt—we changed things without telling him.

But I remember when we first brought Molly home, it didn’t feel right having so many men around.

Two lunatics are enough.

“We kept one housekeeper,” I perk up, hopeful that is enough for him. “I like doing things myself around the house. Molly likes to paint and clean, too. And we didn’t want strange men around Molly, given her life so far. Just us.”

“Brother,” Donnie acknowledges Dexter as he stops beside us, ready to move into the house and take his place. “After I fuck my wife, you and I need to talk.”

I feel my face glow red, and I bury it in his shirt, wondering what Dexter’s expression is, whether he understands, whether he thinks I’m a slut.

Surely, he doesn’t.

He knows I’m not choosing.

Doesn’t he?

“Baby Girl?” I take a big breath and half-peer at Dexter, immediately hit with a smooth smirk that buckles my knees. That melts me in his brother’s embrace. “Don’t hide your face. Own this. You have us wrapped around your beautiful finger. Don’t you dare feel shame.”

My chest balloons.

“Okay, Daddy,” I say just as I am hoisted over Donnie’s shoulder in a way that means business. I push off his back as he walks us into the house.

“Daddy?” Donnie questions, but I can’t figure out his tone. “Right. Dexter, sit with Molly. This may take a while. My Pup needs my bone.” He slaps my arse, squeezing until I yelp, and follows the corridors until we are in his bedroom.

Ourbedroom.

A few powerful strides into the room, he throws me to the mattress, where I bounce a few times. “What did Molly have for dinner?” I ask. “Did she sleep okay?”

---