Page 51 of Married to the Beasts
“The busy life of a rock star’s wife. I get it,” she teases. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
“Yes! We’ll be here until around lunchtime.”
When I rejoin the group, Rafe’s helping my mom load the dishwasher, and Conal and Bron are playing a video game with my sister. I must look like my sister did during lunch, mouth hanging open at the scene of domesticity.
The Black Pythons are in my childhood home, just hanging out like normal people. But they’re not normal people at all—they’re very special people to me.
Later, the men suggest we go out to dinner, and though there’s nothing nearby as grand as the places they’ve taken me in Las Vegas, we do go to a very nice restaurant and have a good meal.
At night, my mom tries to give up her bigger bed for me and Conal, but he won’t hear of it, and I would feel strange about it myself. Instead, he and I squeeze into my childhood bed, Rafe takes Ember’s old room, and Bron sleeps on the couch.
This house must seem ridiculously small when they’re used to living in places like the villa in Vegas, but they don’t show even a hint of disdain.
“Did you have a good day?” We’re curled up so close in my little bed that Conal’s mouth is right next to my ear.
“Yes. You?”
“Mm-hm. Your mom is great.”
“She is.”
“You’re pretty great, too.” He cups my breast in his hand, then heads south, his fingers slipping into my underwear.
“Don’t you dare do anything that’ll make me be noisy. Everyone will be able to hear us.”
“That sounds like ayouproblem, babe.” He chuckles softly and continues to torment me, but at a languid pace. My orgasm builds up slowly, and rocks through me like a dream.
The smell of bacon and coffee wakes both of us up in the morning. That, and Conal’s morning wood, jabbing into my bottom. When he rolls onto his back, it tents the sheets to a height that would be amusing if I wasn’t so turned on.
“Can I take care of that?”
“You don’t have to do that, babe.”
Instead of answering, I pull the sheet back, peel off his boxer briefs and wrap my mouth around his tip,swirling and flicking my tongue and teasing the ridge.
“Babe.” The word is a low, tortured groan.
I pop my mouth off his cock just long enough to say, “Sounds like ayouproblem, babe.”
I take him in deep, and when he comes, I swallow every drop, leaving no evidence behind. Conal’s flat on the bed, utterly spent, but the delicious smells seeping in from the kitchen eventually rouse him again.
Everyone else is already at the table when we finally go out, and I brace myself for jealous looks from Rafe and Bron, but they’re too involved in their breakfast to do anything except say good morning.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good home-cooked breakfast,” Conal tells my mom after he downs two eggs, bacon, and two biscuits. “Hazel’s been cooking tons of delicious food for us, but we don’t typically eat much in the morning.”
“You’ve been cooking, Hazel? Or baking?” Mom’s used to me making muffins and cookies, but it was rare for me to cook unless she asked for my help.
“Yeah. I’ve been trying out some recipes.”
She gives me a long, curious look, but I can’t tell what she’s thinking.
Shortly after we clean up the breakfast dishes, there’s noise outside that leads us to discover a cluster of cars parked in the street. At first glance, I assume a neighbor must be throwing a party, but then I see cameras aimed at our house. There are at least a dozen people loitering around. Some of them look like fans, and are even wearing Pythons t-shirts; others are obviously paparazzi.
We ignore them for a while, but then I get a text from Bliss telling me she can’t reach the house. She can’t even get down the street.
“This is even worse than it was before.” Mom is wringing her hands as she peeks through the curtains, and I hate that she’s having to deal with this again. Maybe it would have been better if we’d brought her to the house in Vegas instead.
“Let’s go give them what they want,” Conal says to his brothers. “If we pose for pictures and sign some autographs, it’ll be easier to get them to leave.”
