Page 61 of Three
“It reminds me of you, Red,” I tease.
Another sharp elbow. “I’ll castrate him next time.”
I snort. He grabs the kitchen knife from the counter and twists it in his hand like a pro. Impressive. Why is his aim so terrible?
“What’re you cooking?” It looks like eggs and vegetables. And there’s some kind of sauce in a pot and pasta cooking in another. It all smells divine. I’m starving.
“Omelets, toast, and Bolognese. You need to restore your energy, Grizzly.” His words are followed by a cute growl.
I let out a small laugh. He’s ridiculous with this bear thing. It kind of annoyed me at first, now it amuses me, just like he does.
He wiggles his ass and strokes my cock up and down, while continuing to cook. But that won’t do. I abruptly spin him around, crowding him against the counter, and claim his mouth. I hear the drop of the spatula when I grasp his hips, hauling him closer. He’s solid and strong and gives back as much as I do, biting, sucking, and dueling with my tongue. We kiss and grind. His arms are around my neck, hands stroking all over me as he hauls a leg up on my hip.
“I think I could come like this, half riding you.” A moan rips out of him, and I greedily swallow it.
“After eating, I’m going to fuck your face,” I tell him between kisses.
I like the way his lips follow mine every time I pull back. It lures me back again, and I dive my tongue into his warm, delicious mouth. Everything about this feels good.
“Fuck the food. You said you’d feed my tongue something?” He sounds lost in the pleasure already. Fucking crave the power I have over him.
“Gross! It’s too early in the afternoon to approach creepy territory.” Ash’s voice turns my body to stone.
Ramiel wrinkles his nose, disrupting the pattern of freckles. He tilts his head to the side to look at Ash. “You were spying on us with your doppelgänger this morning.”
“He was mentally trying to set the backyard on fire. I was the one cheering,” Ren’s voice comes next. I let go of Ramiel to turn toward the boys.
“To set Velma on fucking fire not the whole backyard.” Ash huffs, scratching his stomach under his tank top. “And what the ever-loving fuck are you wearing?”
“I’m cooking. Plenty of men wear aprons. It’s practical, my skin is delicate—I don’t need to give you any explanation!” Ramiel glares at Ash’s uninterested, retreating back. “Sit at the damn table if you want to eat.”
Ash stops walking toward the sofa and surprisingly moves to the table where Ren has already taken his place. They start hitting each other like two hyper testosterone-fueled teens—which they are.
Dare arrives with Fred sleeping around his neck. He doesn’t seem surprised to see Ramiel at the stove and goes to the cabinet to grab glasses and silverware. I help him out, grabbing other stuff.
“Get the drinks from the fridge.” I slap Ash behind the head.
“Ouch! Why only me? Ren is scratching his balls over here,” he complains, but goes to the kitchen.
“Fucking snitch!” Ren mutters.
“I have the same exact problem with one of my brothers.” Ramiel places a bowl full of pasta on the table and goes back to the stove to grab the rest of the food. Ash deposits the bottles of coke and water and dives to make his plate of pasta.
“You have brothers?” Dare asks him in his calm voice.
“I have six foster brothers, plus three new additions.”
Ash’s fork stops near his mouth.
“Foster brothers?” Ren returns with two cans of beer.
“I grew up in a foster home with a bunch of other kids.” Ramiel takes a seat next to me as I grab the cans and give one to him.
“Why?” Ash asks with his mouth full.
“My father was a drunk who never gave a fuck about me,” Ramiel replies in a colloquial way. Like what he just disclosed isn’t a big deal. I turn to look at him but don’t see any distress on his face. For the boys, though, this topic is too close for comfort.
“That who fucked up your hand?” Ash’s inappropriate question irritates me, but before I can put him back in his place, Ramiel replies with a bitter smirk on his mouth.
