Page 137 of Thoroughly Pucked

“You are such a lover,” Aubrey says, and I fall even more at the way she talks to our dog.

After we walk Puck Fitzgibbons, I show her how much I love my solo time with her, spending a good long time stripping off her clothes, laying her on the bed, and kissing my way down her body, starting with her earlobe. Then, I move to her chin. The hollow of her throat comes next.

The valley of her breasts.

Her soft belly.

One hip, then the other.

She’s writhing, arching, panting, and I haven’t even settled between her thighs yet. But I can’t deny her. I bury my face in her pussy and devour her sweetness till she’s coming hard and fearlessly.

Then I put her on her hands and knees and fuck her and spank her, giving her the good hard fucking she deserves.

I want to tell her soon she’s the love of my life. I hope she’s ready to hear that.

But while I like to do some things alone with her, there are others that involve all of us. Which means I need Dev’s road trip to end really fucking soon.

Two nights later, we gather at Dev’s place. He’s just returned to town and he’sseriously hungry and can’t wait to eat.

His words.

I’m drinking a scotch as Aubrey plates the dish Dev’s been cooking. It’s some new chickpea, kale, and tofu number that’s making my mouth water thanks to the rosemary in it.

“I’m still amazed you can cook,” Aubrey says, clearly impressed with his kitchen prowess.

He turns off the stove, then he wraps an arm around her waist. “Woman, I’ve got lots of skills. Haven’t I told you?”

I scoff. “Only five hundred times.”

“Can’t wait to tryyourdinner,” he retorts, knowing full well I can’t cook for shit.

“Fair enough,” I concede.

We sit at the counter and tuck in. The food makes my taste buds sing, and I moan in culinary delight. “Turns out I don’t mind having a chef,” I say.

He lifts his fork. “I wouldn’t mind having someone to take out the trash. You game?”

“Boys, boys,” Aubrey says as if breaking up a fight. “There are enough chores to go around. Just like there’s enough of me. You simply have to take turns.”

“Your favorite thing to do,” I say, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“It sure is,” Dev says, kissing her other cheek.

As we eat, I’m still thinking about the conversation with my dad at the stadium the other night. I’m glad I told Aubrey my decision about post-hockey life, but if we’re doing this thing—this throuple thing—I can’t leave out one third of us. I need to tell my friend.

I set down my fork and look my buddy in the eyes. “I told my dad I didn’t want to go into the booth with him.”

“Damn!” Dev seems briefly surprised before he offers a fist for knocking. “Excellent.”

There. It’s that simple with Dev. Some things are, and for that I am grateful.

Aubrey lifts her glass of wine. “While we’re at it, I told my mom I never wanted to marry Aiden in the first place.”

Dev whistles, looking from her to me. “Look at you two being all emotionally adjusted and shit. I almost feel left out.” He strokes his chin like he’s deep in thought. “Do I have somethingIneed to tell my parents?”

I laugh. “No, dude. You’d worked through all your emotional baggage by the time you were ten.”

But he stays strangely quiet, unusually serious.