Page 115 of Hunted, Season Three

In fact, we slept in three separate locations prior to getting ready in the same fashion to “build to the big moment”.

I would definitely put the big jaw-dropping reveals in the “worth it” file; however, I wouldn’t have mindedbeingbreakfast rather beingbroughtbreakfast.

What can I say?

This pregnancy thing keeps me feigning for multiple orgasms like some sort of drug addict.

Thankfully, there’s alwayssomeonewilling to offer a hand.

Or tongue.

Or cock.

Or a vibrator if they’re just totally wiped for the day.

“I wanna dance with both of you,” I state while wiping away wedding cake crumbs near the corner of Kid’s mouth, “at leastoncetonight.”

Kid lovingly grins at my cleaning gesture.“Like all together?”

“Yes.”

“We can do that,” he warmly announces prior to shifting his stare to our partner.“We can begoodhusbands and dance withour wifeatour wedding.”The abundant use of the terms gets underneath Mutt’s skin like he knew it would.“Right, Sir?”

“Forfuckssake,” grouses Nolan at the same time he abandons his bottle of beer.“Fine.You can haveone dance,Rabbit.”

“Wife,” sassily escapes on a sexy smirk.

“Fuck, I love the sound of that too goddamn much.”Mutt grumbles during the rising to his feet.

“So does yourhusband,” Kid playfully pokes, grin matching mine.

“Fuck, I love the sound of that too,” the man who put back nine mini burgers in between photos contentedly murmurs against his own volition.“Like a C8 Corvette, you two have too much fuckin’ power.”

Mirth-filled eyebrow wiggles are given as I guide them both by the hand towards the fake-wood dance floor space in the middle of the yard.“Just wait until the first time you hear our son say dadda.”

“Fuck.Me.” He huffs in tandem with Kid laughing.“I’m never gonna have balls again.”

“You’ve got the best balls,” our younger hubs teases on a wink.“And I can’t wait to put them in my mouth later.”

Nolan groans and sloppily smashes his mouth against Kipp’s for a less than chaste kiss.

Once we’re on the dance floor, the DJ changes the song that I specifically picked for this moment.

I did the math.

Weighed my options.

Calculated the timing.

I knew Mutt would only give uponedance tonight – once he had successfully eaten a full plate and chugged back at bit of beer – so I wanted the song to be one he not only knew but would appreciate.

Familiar notes from Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together” begin flowing out of the speakers, instantly pulling the corners of his lips upwards.

“An oldie but goodie like you,” sassily leaves me resulting in an unsuspecting kiss to the back of my hand.

The melody effortlessly summons others from their seats to join us in the special moment, and we smile in unison.

Post – while still solo – doesn’t let it stop him from snapping and shuffling near the edge of the space beside the Cotterells, clearly a fan of the song.

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