“Sasha!” Sam, yelled down the hallway, making me jump and Jackson freeze. “Your dad wants to order out tonight. What are you in the mood for?”

“Your dads are here,” Jackson whispered, like this was new information.

“I just told you that.”

Frowning, he looked down his naked body, stopping on his penis resting over his thigh. “I’m naked.”

“You are,” I agreed, finding the whole thing amusing.

“Sasha,” Ryan yelled this time. “What does he want?” I swear I heard Sam mutter, “My foot up his ass,” after it, but it wasn’t all that clear.

Eyes wide now, Jackson looked around the room. “I need clothes. Your dads are here, and I’m naked.”

“You’ve been like that since they arrived,” I pointed out helpfully.

“Shit. You don’t understand, your dads are like Pitbulls when it comes to their daughter.”

Oh, I didn’t need anyone else telling me that. Trust me, I knew it well.

“They’ll kick my ass, chop me up into pieces, then your dad will sew me back together again with my balls where my ears should be.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d probably sew him back sans penis and balls.

Rolling over Milkshake—who was staring at the door like he was trying to decide where he wanted to be, with the dads or with Jackson—he fell off the other side of the bed with a thud.

“What was that?” Sam shouted. “Little miss, there’d better be clothes on. I’m coming down the hall in five seconds, and if I see any naked skin—”

“She’s wearing one of those tops with the tiny straps, honey. You’ll see skin. Try being more specific,” Ryan, the reasonable father, interrupted him.

A few weeks ago, this would have been one of my worst nightmares. Now, watching Jackson trying to get his legs into his sweats as he hopped weakly from foot to foot while my dads yelled down the hallway?

It was one of the funniest moments of my life.

“Five…”

Jackson let out a groan as the thick elastic waistband, one that was like what he had on his briefs, of his sweats smacked audibly against his bare dick.

“Fuck me,” he hissed, his eyes at the ceiling as he took a shuddering breath in. “Pain. So fucking much pain.”

“Four…”

Forgetting about the pain, he lunged for a t-shirt lying on the chair in his bedroom, growling as he went to put it on and realized it was mine when he could hardly get his arms in it.

“Three…”

Taking pity on him, I picked up the t-shirt on the bed beside me, then dropped it when I felt how damp it was from his sweat.

“We’re going to need to change the bed. If your t-shirt’s that gross, imagine what the sheets are like.”

Just to check, I ran my finger over where he’d been lying, stopping when I discovered the remote for the television where his ass would have been.

“I think I found the reason your ass was itchy.”

Glaring at me as I held the remote up between two fingers, he pulled a t-shirt—his this time—over his head.

“Two…”

“If we’re changing the sheets, we might want to add getting an antibacterial wipe and sterilizing the remote. In fact, I’ll do what we did with your phone when it fell in the toilet,” Jackson whispered, his t-shirt finally in place.

Dropping it back down, I grimaced at the thought.

“One…”

“Jesus, Dad, we’re coming,” I shouted back, pushing myself up from the bed.

A loud thud followed a spluttering noise.

“Get off me, Ryan,” Sam yelled. “Did you hear that? She said they were coming. I’m gonna kill him.”

“She didn’t mean that, honey, and if you thought rationally about it, you’d know that without it being pointed out. She meant both of them were physically walking toward us, not a sex type of coming.”

“Holy shit,” Jackson rasped, holding onto the drawer unit he was standing beside. “This is embarrassing.”

Moving next to him, I rubbed my hand from between his shoulders down to the base of his spine, hoping it’d make him feel better.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were coming.” Always mindful of his need for his own space, I asked, “Are you okay with this? I can always take them back to my place to stay so you don’t have to—”

His head snapped up, and it felt like his eyes were boring into me. “Are you mine?”

“Sorry?”

“I said, are you mine?”

Still not following, I repeated, “Yours?”

“Yes,” he nodded firmly. “Because I’m yours, all yours. So, if you’re mine, that means your dads have every right to be here, and my mind will adjust to it more easily.”

I was so confused. On the one hand, he was handing me everything I wanted. On the other, he was explaining it in a way that sucked.

“So you’re doing this so you can make them feel welcome?”

I could see the sheen of sweat on him as he shook his head, then he grimaced and tightened his grip on the drawer unit. “Fuck, remind me not to do that again.”

Tags: Mary B. Moore Providence Family Ties Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net