Page 8 of Hunted, Season Three

He was acceptable.

Not the best lug nut in the package but good enough to get the job done.

Truth is, I’m just so fucking tired of dragging my ass out of bed at one in the morning to change a flat of the non-diaper variety.

I don’t mind getting out of bed for that.

You would think that I would.

That I’d hate having to get up to change a goddamn dirty diaper when I’m happily passed out with a handful of my wife’s tit and my dick wedged nicely against my husband’s ass, but I don’t.

Ilovebeing there for our boy.

I love getting to be the father I never had.

The one I wanted.

The one The Kid fucking deserved.

I love every portion of the fully loaded dad package.

The giggles.

The finger curls.

The pick me up wiggles.

Fuck, I even love the less lovable features too.

The shitty diapers.

The late-night feedings.

The cock block cries.

Which actually have a slightly different rev to them.

Yeah.

Like a fucking engine.

No surprise that The Kid was the one to point that shit out.

I swear he’s an audible genius.

I sure hope he passed that along to our little guy.

He already has his blue eyes and thick black hair and love of everything else car related.

And I love that shit too.

I don’t resent the fact that Andrew – because Rabbit refused to let him be named Andretti – looks like a mini me of the two people I love more than anything else on this fucking planet.

I’m proud of that.

Besides they’re the better-looking ones.

At least this way, Drew’s got a chance at pulling a hot piece of tail in his future.

---