Page 140 of Buckin' Around

I explode, filling this little woman I am fucking done for full of my cum.

When fingers curl over my hand at her throat, I loosen my hold.

But I can’t bring myself to untangle our bodies.

Not just yet.

Ives is asleep in the back of the truck as Riley walks the picnic items inside. I’m lifting Ivy out of the truck when Riles calls out.

“Spence, what on earth did you do?”

Hey, what?

I huddle Ives in my arms and head for the cottage. Only to halt one step over the threshold when I find Riley standing in the center of the living room. The living room currently littered with dozens of candles. The hearth has been cleared out and is blazing away. Netflix is on the screen.

And drinks sit in an old rusted bucket full of ice.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

I lock the car and shut the front door to keep the cold out. Padding to Ivy’s room, I settle her in her crib before closing the door and sliding my phone from my back pocket.

You both deserve it. Hope it helps.

Brades.

Dammit, bud.

Who would have thought he’s a romantic?

I huff a surprised sound and wander back down the hallway and into the living room to find Riley, standing. Waiting.

I close the distance, and she looks up at me. “Netflix and chill, cowboy?”

I scoop her up into my arms, my signature move at this point, and shuffle to the sofa. As I sink onto the sofa, she slips her seat to the cushion, leaving her legs draped over my lap. I reach for the wine in the bucket and pour her a glass. Four beers sit in the ice for me.

I crack the first one as Riles points the remote at the television.

“What are you in the mood for?” she asks.

“I’m happy if you’re happy,” I say, brushing the hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear.

She rolls her eyes at me, and I can’t help the smile that flickers over my lips.

“Horror and gore it is, then.” She hits the button on the horror tab.

I jerk in my seat, eyes widening as she cackles and sends the remote to the left, back to comedy.

Smart ass.

Very funny, Riles.

She selects a Jimeoin stand-up special, and we snuggle up.

Riley holds up her glass, and I tap the top of my bottle to it. “Cheers, beautiful.”

“Thanks, Spence,” she breathes.

“What for?” I frown.