Page 308 of What We Brave
Blake laughs. It turns into a groan as Laine twists her wrist. "He's right though. One more. A tie-breaker."
"We have three kids. That's not—that's not a tie."
"It's an odd number. Four is better. Even teams."
"Even teams for what?"
"Everything." I lean down, kiss her neck, her jaw, the corner of her mouth. "Board games. Road trips. Dividing the couch."
"You're ridiculous." But she's clenching around me, close again. "Both of you. Completely ridiculous."
"Is that a yes?"
"It's a—oh god, right there—it's a 'stop talking and make me come.'"
I can do that.
I shift my angle, hitching her leg higher. Blake's hand slides down to her clit, working her in tight circles while I thrust. Teamwork. Coordination. Seven years of learning exactly how to take her apart.
She's close. I can feel it building—the way she tightens, the way her breathing changes.
"That's it, sweetheart." Blake's voice is low and rough against her ear. "Let go."
She does.
Her whole body tightens, her head thrown back, and the sound she makes goes straight to my spine. I grit my teeth, trying to hold on, because Blake hasn't had his turn yet and?—
BANG BANG BANG.
"DADDY! PAPA! THE DOOR'S STUCK!"
Laine freezes mid-orgasm. I freeze mid-thrust. Blake's hand stops.
We stare at each other.
BANG BANG BANG.
"I'm HUNGRY." That's Caleb. Our five-year-old. Persistent as hell.
"Papa, Iris is touching my stuff!" And there's June, our three-year-old, already lodging complaints.
A high-pitched shriek. Iris. Two years old and absolutely feral before breakfast.
Laine's still clenching around me, her orgasm stuttering to a confused halt, her face caught between bliss and frustration. I haven't come. Blake is visibly hard, his hand still wrapped around himself, frozen.
"I'll go." Blake's already rolling off the bed.
"You sure?"
"Yeah." He looks down at himself. At the very obvious situation. "Give me a minute."
He doesn't hesitate. Doesn't make it weird. Old Blake would've kept score—filed this away as evidence he gives more than he gets, not that he'd have ever admitted that to himself or anyone else. New Blake just grabs his sweatpants and deals with it.
I love New Blake. Old Blake was kind of an asshole.
He rolls off the bed. Takes a breath. Then another. I watch him try to will his erection down through sheer stubbornness. It's not working.
BANG BANG BANG.
