Page 36 of The Family Pet

I gagged, my airway closing around his hard flesh. I couldn’t get the oxygen I needed. I slapped his thigh, but he didn’t pull away, and instead of panicking like I should’ve, my body reacted in the opposite way. My orgasm snapped inside me, the pressure that had built exploding. My cock jerked in my hand and cum spat from my slit, splashing across the tiled floor of the shower.

I tensed, choked, and only then did he jump back, his softening cock retreating with him. I coughed so hard my chest hurt and slapped my hand on the tiles, trying to regain my breath.

“Fuck. I am so sorry.” Saint dropped to his knees beside me and grasped my shoulders tightly. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to mine. “Are you okay? Breathe. You need to breathe.”

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. I actually fucking laughed at something he’d said. “I’m trying, trust me.” I fell back on my ass. “Fuck. You nearly killed me.”

He winced. “I didn’t mean to. Your mouth was so good.”

“Yeah?” Pride swelled in my gut and I grinned. “Of course it is. I’m a fucking Godfrey. Everything we do is good.”

He rolled his eyes and a genuine smile curved his supple mouth. He sighed, and together we stood, shakily. After I’d made sure to wash all my cum down the drain, I turned off the water, and we walked out of the shower. I grabbed two fresh towels hanging on a rack and passed him one.

We didn’t say anything as we dried off, but finally he nodded at his clothes in a pile on the floor.

“I should take those back to my room.”

I shrugged. “Whatever. Like I said, Dad will be drunk as a skunk right now. I have clothes you can put on, and I have a TV in my room. Wanna watch Netflix?”

His gaze shot to me and his eyebrows furrowed. “Are you sick?”

I snorted and ignored him, walking past him and out of the bathroom. He followed, and by the time he reached me, I was already in my walk-in closet, grabbing a pair of boxers and a shirt that would be too big for him. Even though it was still only the afternoon, it wouldn’t hurt to rest for the night. We’d been beat up, and I had classes tomorrow. I deserved some time to relax. No doubt Jury would corner me and question me about Saint again, then start an interrogation about my shiny new bruise.

We got dressed, and afterward I shoved him gently toward my large bed. He kept glancing nervously at me, as if he expected me to snap and hurt him, and I held in a cringe at the thought. Jury was right, I was an asshole, but I never usually got physical with people. I’d wanted to hurt Saint so much. Did I take it too far?

He got onto the bed and under the blankets, and I joined him. I dragged him against my chest and while he was rigid at first, the tension slowly left his muscles when I grabbed the controller from the nightstand and switched on the TV.

We didn’t talk. I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t think he did, either, so we lay in bed and watched The Blacklist. During the second episode I went for snacks. At some point after the sixth episode, we’d both fallen asleep, and I only woke when I felt a presence at my back.

I blinked my eyes open, taking in the darkness of the room. Saint was spooned against my front, my arms curled around his waist, which meant it wasn’t him.

“Daddy?” I whispered quietly into the dark.

Dad’s chest pressed against my back and his breath caressed my neck. He didn’t smell like alcohol, which meant he hadn’t been drinking the way I’d thought he would. “I told you to take him to his room, boy.”

“He’s my pup,” I argued, the anger from before reigniting. I didn’t move, though, because I didn’t want to wake Saint. He deserved a good sleep. “You got him for me, and I can do what I want with him.”

“Hm, but you both belong to me, and I’m in charge of this household, boy.” Dad nipped the skin on my neck, and I shuddered as pleasure tingled where his teeth had caught. “You will learn to follow my orders.”

“No, I won’t, Daddy.” I turned my head, and even though I couldn’t see him in the darkness, I imagined his handsome face staring back at me. “Because you want my disobedience. Saint is submissive, so you don’t need a boy who’ll submit to you. You need me to challenge you.”

“Do I?” Dad’s voice rose, intrigue lacing his baritone.

“You like it,” I murmured, holding Saint tighter. “So, shut the fuck up and kiss me. . . Daddy.”

Dad chuckled deeply and seized my chin to turn my head, and then he kissed me like I’d ordered. His mouth was rough and he dominated me until my lips hurt and I thought they would end up bruised. When he was done, I was well on my way to being hard, but he merely patted me on the hip.

“Go back to sleep, boy. You’ve got classes tomorrow and I’m taking our pup to work.”

I wanted to protest because a silly childish part of me was jealous at the idea of them spending time together without me, but I pursed my lips and closed my eyes again. Going to sleep was difficult, though, and I kept sighing.

Dad must have heard because he shushed me and laid tender kisses down the length of my neck, and it was exactly the kind of attention I needed to finally drift off to sleep again.

12

SAINT

Over the past month my days had become both predictable and complete chaos, at least, from my point of view. The things that were always the same were Ridge and Uncle Bowie. Living life as a pet was still really weird, but I’d never been so well fucked. Except for that first night, I didn’t sleep in the doghouse alone. Either Uncle Bowie or Ridge had taken me to bed with them. Often all three of us piled under the blankets together. It had been nice to always have a warm body next to me in the dark and constantly have someone keeping track of what I was doing. Maybe no one cared if I was happy, but Uncle Bowie made sure I had three meals a day and my balls were empty.