Dirty Daddies(66)

“We go to bed,” I improvise. “Sleep on it, see what we work out in the morning.”

“Bed?” she says. “All of us?”

I hadn’t even thought about the logistics. The prospect of me in an empty bed with Carrie in the guest room and Michael roughing it on the sofa seems less than ideal.

The prospect of Carrie choosing to share a bed with either of us individually seems a recipe for jealousy and nothing more.

“I’m happy to bunk up if you are,” I tell him.

He’s quiet for a minute.

“Three of us in one bed?”

“Unless you’ve got a better idea?”

“I like that idea,” Carrie chips in. “Please can we go with that idea?”

Michael shrugs. “I have no better option to counter.”

“Bed buddies it is,” I laugh, hoping the humour carries through to all of us.

Carrie laughs along with me, Mike manages a smile at least.

She winces as I reach out a hand and pull her to her feet. “You got me good,” she says, laughing as cum drips down her thighs.

We did that, alright.

I wrap my arms around our beautiful dirty girl and squeeze her tight. I breathe in her hair and she melts against me, her warm fingers clammy against my back.

“You’re not such a bad little bitch as you like to make out,” I whisper. “I think, in fact, you’re a good girl, you just hadn’t found the right guys to bring it out of you.”

Her eyes are mischievous as she stares up at me. “You think?”

I smirk and then I kiss her to answer her question, long past caring that she’s had another guy’s dick in her mouth.

Her kisses are sweet, genuine, without even a hint of the hissing banshee who railed on me for letting a crow fly out over my head.

“How about you grab us all a coffee while Mike and I clean up in here?”

“Sounds good,” she says, padding away from the living room with that delightful little ass of hers swaying every step. I’m gonna ride the fuck out of that asshole, but not tonight.

Soon, but not tonight.

Mike tugs his pants back on when it’s just us left in the room. I don’t bother with mine. Who really gives a fuck for modesty after all that?

He collects up the beer bottles and gathers the scattered popcorn from the carpet while I grab a wet cloth from the kitchen to wipe down my poor ravaged sofa. I give Carrie’s ass a playful slap on the way through and she pokes her tongue out.

Fuck, I love that fucking girl.

“You alright?” I ask Mike as I rub over the wet patches on the fabric.

“I don’t know what I am anymore,” he says, but he doesn’t look about to go anywhere, and I doubt he ever will.

I doubt either of us ever will, because this thing we have – the contagious Carrie Wells effect – I’m pretty damn sure this shit is terminal.

“I can’t find a way to justify why what we did feels so right,” he tells me.

I tip my head. “So stop trying. I have.”

“It can’t be right,” he says, but he’s lacking the conviction he’s been so desperately clinging onto.

“Maybe it’s right for us,” I offer. “Maybe it’s right for her. Fuck, Mike, neither of us have a stellar fucking track record on the relationship front. Forty years old and both single? Maybe we’re not fucking destined for a twee little life with neat little tick boxes.”

“Maybe not.” He looks so fucking pensive.

There’s that urge to ruffle his hair again. To pull him into a friendly headlock and slap his back and make this all about two guy friends again.

But I’m naked and he’s not far off either, and that crap still feels a little weird around the edges.

I’m worried about him, I’m worried about how his mind will play over all of this. But most of all I’m worried he’ll try to climb back up the cliff we’ve just tumbled over.

There’s no fucking way to scale back up that motherfucker, we’re well and truly all in.

“Coffee’s up,” Carrie calls from the kitchen, and we head out, him before me, dumping the cloth and the leftover movie-night supplies by the draining board before taking a seat at the island.

It’s when I see him look at her that I know he’s gonna be just fucking fine.

His eyes are warm, fingers reaching out to rest on her back so tenderly. Because he loves her. He really fucking loves her.

I love the way he loves that girl.

I love the way she smiles right back at him.

I love the way she sips her coffee and smiles at me, too.

We’re gonna be just fine and I know it, even if I do have to share my bastard bed with a naked guy.

I finish my drink and head up before them, tugging the bedcovers into some kind of order before I flick the bedroom lights down low.