Mother Fluffer (A Billionaire Bad Boys Bonus Novella)(14)
She had a point.
In the Kelly household, Friday nights after Ace was in bed, it was a ritual to give Cassie as many orgasms as she could handle. Most Fridays, Thatch and the Supercock didn’t get rest until well after three in the morning. And Saturday nights, well, were pretty much the exact same routine—more orgasms.
God, I love the weekends…
“Meh,” I muttered. “He should still let me sleep in on the weekends, too.”
“Maybe you should actually let him sleep at night,” she teased with a smirk. “Anyway, what happens on Sundays, Cass?”
“Oh, come on, Wheorgie,” I said on a disappointed sigh. “It’s delivery day for our favorite little shop. Brand-new—slightly used—vintage duds.”
Her brows shot up in surprise. “Bella’s? In Chelsea?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“God, we haven’t been there in ages.”
“Well…that’s mostly because I fluffing hate Chelsea, but—”
“Chelsea isn’t that bad,” she interrupted on a laugh. “It’s actually an amazing little neighborhood. And it was our home for years.”
She was right. Before marriage and kids, Georgia and I had been roomies, and our little apartment in Chelsea had been the place we’d called home. It definitely had its high points—eclectic shops, delicious restaurants, and gorgeous little parks to spend sunny days.
Okay, I guess Chelsea wasn’t that bad once you got past the constant construction and the bitter smell of piss during the hot summer months.
“It’s Sunday and Mother’s Day, Georgie,” I said, and she sighed. “Don’t you think today would be the perfect day for us to take a trip down Memory Lane to our old stomping grounds?”
“I have to work, Cass. I can’t just skip out for the rest of the day,” she responded in annoyance. But it was the tiny little glimmer of temptation in her eyes that let me know I had finally reached my opening.
Now, it’s time to go in for the kill…
I looked down at Stan, and his big brown eyes met mine. “Wouldn’t it be so awesome if Mommy showed you around Chelsea, Stanley?” I asked, and his ears perked up. I moved the screen of my phone closer to his face so that he would eventually spot Georgia. “Plus, Mommy can leave work early, and she’ll get some time to herself because Uncle T is watching the girls…”
He looked at the screen, and once he saw his human mommy, he let out three barks and his tail started wagging.
“Aw,” I said. “I think someone misses his mommy…”
“Hi, big boy,” Georgia cooed, all the love in the world filling her eyes. My best friend loved this dog. He was literally like a child to her. “Are you being a good boy for Aunt Cass?”
Stan barked again, and his tail wagged even faster.
Georgia’s eyes met mine. “You play so dirty, you know that?”
“Uh-huh.” I smirked. “I mean…can you really say no to this adorable fluffing horse of a dog?”
My best friend looked down at Stan before her gaze met mine again. “Fine,” she sighed. “Give me forty minutes, and I’ll meet you guys at Fran’s Diner. We can eat outside on the terrace.”
“Perfect.”
She flashed a pointed look in my direction. “But if Wes starts calling me, you get to take his calls.”
“Deal,” I said without hesitation. “If your boss calls, I’ll handle it.”
“God, you’re a terrible influence,” she muttered. “I’ll see you guys in a few.”
“Oh, Georgia!” I called out before she could hang up the phone.
“Yeah?”
“Maybe bring some Pepcid for ol’ Stan here. I don’t think his stomach is tolerating the beef jerky he ate earlier too well.”
“What the hell, Cass?” she questioned with wide eyes. “Why did you give my dog beef jerky?”
Note to self: Beef jerky is bad for dogs.
“Uh-oh… I’m starting to lose the call…” I lied and put my hand over the camera. “Are you still there?” I questioned and ignored her response. “I’m gonna hang up, Georgie. See you in a little bit! Loveyoubye!” I said in a rush and ended the call before she could start lecturing me on the dos and don’ts of pet care.
Obviously, I knew a little about pets because of Philmore, but that pig’s steel stomach wasn’t a good comparison. He could eat anything and everything—grass, socks, chicken nuggets, ice cream. Come to think of it, Philmore’s don’t list mostly just consisted of bacon. And that was more for moral reasons than anything else.