Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
This did something to him, stirred a powerful excitement that firmed me even more.
“But in your human form?”
“No, that’s specific to my Furker cock.”
“Naughty,” he murmured in a low, sexy voice, another burst of excitement pulsing through him. “So as far as the imprinting stuff, what does that mean, in terms of what we can and can’t do?”
“We can do a lot of things, like what we shared last night, but I shouldn’t come inside you again. It’s too risky.”
“Oh…” he said, his disappointment penetrating me to my core.
“It’s just, being so close to you and orgasming, I lose control of even my best self-restraint, and it would be unwise to play with that, given the consequence.”
“That you would be obsessed with me and want to protect me? Huh. I don’t know. Could be worse. I’m kidding.”
“I can read you pretty well now. Not on all things, but I could tell that was a joke.”
He twirled his finger through my chest hairs. “As long as you’re not telling me we can’t do anything anymore, because I don’t know that I would be okay with that. But I understand if we can’t do some things, even if it’s a little disappointing.”
His gaze sank, his lips curling downward in a way that made me want to take it all back and say fuck it, no matter how much it would kill me to have to leave him at some point, I didn’t care. Of course, that was the primitive Furker mind, so I pushed it back, tempering these powerful impulses.
I’d have to get damn good at that whenever we did mess around, something I wasn’t willing to give up entirely. Not so long as Twink wanted to do stuff with me.
But just as quickly, his gaze met mine again. “How about I get started on those waffles? And then maybe we can head to the park?”
Adrenaline coursed through me at the thought of spending a morning together.
16
TWINK
Over the next couple of weeks, Daddy and I became particularly datey. He spent most nights at my place, and in the mornings I went to the bookstore and he worked on the Kaylog. He would still visit me at the café, now staying through my break so we could have lunch together. Then later in the evening, we would regroup for even more time together, exploring each other’s bodies. For times when we weren’t together, I got him a cheap phone on my plan, and while he hadn’t acclimated to texting and reading, I could call him on my break or when he was on some errand or another—I didn’t really understand all the things that went into fixing an alien spaceship, despite his attempts at explaining it to me.
During these weeks, I learned a lot about Daddy: He preferred peanut butter on his waffles over syrup, something I mentioned was an option one morning to spice things up. He became obsessed with gelato, frozen yogurt, and ice cream, and we would make frequent stops at one of the shops near the park before taking one of our lengthy walks. He didn’t enjoy the sound of dogs barking, which he earned more than his share of; it even became kind of cute after a while.
I enjoyed gradually discovering more about him, and though whenever he got out his tentacle and we’d play, part of me wanted him to take me fully, I was satisfied enough when he would shoot that load across me, which I learned I needed to put towels down to manage.
On Thursday, I was working in the café—the ever-absent Monika was still employed here, for reasons I’ll never understand.
Eric was reading one of his comics while I was busy putting together a large order, when he said, “Someone’s in a good mood.”
“Huh?”
“You’re humming pop songs, so I take it you’re less miserable in the café.”
He wasn’t wrong. Since I started this stuff with Daddy, I’d found fewer reasons to complain about the job, and I actually didn’t really mind it as much anymore.
“I think I’m getting pretty good at this.”
Eric winced. “Then why have you pumped half the chocolate into that cup?”
Oh fuck. “Well, I was doing fairly well.”
I chucked the cup and started over when Eric said, “Is it safe to say a certain Daddy is responsible for these good moods?”
The corners of my lips pushed into my cheeks. “Maybe…” I sang.
“You guys are a cute couple, but maybe a little too cute.”
“What is too cute?”
“Like it makes me want to vomit when I see you out together.”
“You see us out? You never say hi.”
“You’re all smiley and in a good mood. I liked it better when you were miserable. You know what they say about misery loving company.”
At my glare, he smirked. He could be sardonic, but he wasn’t a total ass, even if he liked to pretend otherwise.