Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“I think it would be fun. Three of us. We can cuddle. Play games—”
“You fucking kidding me?” He’s mad. Explosive mad. “You better fucking be joking, Georgia. I swear to God, I will go on a murder spree.” The clatter of an object falling off a pantry shelf catches his attention, and he instinctively shifts, his head whipping toward the door. “What the fuck?”
“Hear me out! I think you’ll like him! You two are kind of the same—” He storms toward the door and rips it open, ready to slay, when a ball of fluff comes bouncing out. He stops at Jackson’s fancy leather shoe and tugs on his shoelace.
“What. The fuck. Is that, Georgia?”
“Our threesome partner. If we train him, he can sleep in the bed. The breeder told me dachshunds are major cuddlers. Bad with barking but super loyal. The name on his crate was Hank, but we could always change it… to Threesome or…” I stop because I can’t decipher his expression. Still angry? Shocked and angry? Confused, shocked, and really angry?
“This is your threesome.”
“Technically, our threesome. I signed both our names on the adoption papers. Congrats, babe, you’re a fur-daddy.”
He glares at me, then back to the puppy now humping his shoe. Finally, he bends down and picks up the pup. He walks over to me, Hank tucked into his armpit, and raises one hand to my throat, collaring it. “You ever try to make me think you want another man in our bed again, I will make sure you can’t sit for a week. I will cover you with my cum before you go to class and make sure everyone knows who you belong to. You understand me?”
I can barely get my reply out I’m so aroused. “I understand.”
He holds my gaze captive, ignoring Hank/Threesome when he tries to bite his chin. “You got us a dog.”
“It’s a wiener dog." I wiggle my eyebrows. "My favorite.”
“Watch it.” His hand slides up my neck, stroking his thumb across my lips. “How about this? I’m going to take a shower; then you can have my wiener in your mouth since he’s your favorite. Then we can discuss what to do with this thing.”
“Deal.”
I put my hands out to take Hank/Threesome, but he pulls back and walks off. “Sorry, Peach. Can’t trust you with another wiener.”
Damn him.
I give Jackson his space and let him shower while I clean up a puddle of pee in the corner, scoop a cup of puppy chow into a bowl for Hank, and head back upstairs to our bedroom. When I walk in, I find Hank in the middle of the bed and the shower still running.
“Did he ditch you, Hankie Pankie? How dare he? Doesn’t he know we’re a package deal now?” I walk over and set Hank’s bowl down, curious about what he’s chewing on. Reaching for the small box in his paws, I pull it away gently. “How did you get this, little man?” I mutter while inspecting the poor chewed-up box. “Uh oh. I hope these aren’t his expensive cufflinks.” Hank’s teeth have done a number on the case. I pry it open to assess the damage, and the moment I see what’s inside, my breath catches.
“Hank wants to know if you’d like to make this threesome a forever thing.”
My head snaps around. Jackson stands there, fully dressed, definitely not in the shower. His dark eyes burn into mine, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips.
“Wha—what is this?” I stammer.
He steps closer, his gaze never wavering. “I had a plan tonight,” he says, his voice low and steady. “I was probably going to mess it up because I was so damn nervous. But then I walked in, and, well, you had already stolen the show with your negligee and your dog—”
“Our dog,” I whisper, my throat tight.
Jackson’s grin softens. “Our dog,” he agrees. “So, I had to improvise.”
He takes the box from my trembling hands and pulls the ring from its holder. “I can’t even tell you how long I’ve had this,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve thought about this moment so many times. Actually, I tried to do it a few months ago—”
“You did?” I ask, shocked.
“Pizza night,” he says with a sheepish smile. “I had the ring in the champagne. I got you to toast, waiting for you to find it—”
“Oh my God, that was the night I got food poisoning!”
“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I was so anxious, I thought about just slipping in on your finger right then and there, big gesture be damned. I just wanted you to be mine.”
“Jackson,” I whisper, my voice unsteady as my eyes lock on the ring he’s holding. He takes my hand in his, his touch firm and sure. Then, with the steady grace of a man who’s found his forever, he drops to one knee.