“What’s that noise?” she asks suddenly, barely able to suck in enough breath to form the question.
“What noise?” I try not to get distracted and to keep my rhythm going. If she’s hearing other shit besides me, then I’m not doing my job, so I reach down and massage her clit in slow circles.
“It sounds like panting,” she says with a scrunched face and through broken speech.
“That’s you, baby,” I say. She shakes her head, opens her eyes, and looks around the room as best she can. I’m sliding into her, going as deep as I can, when she lets out a terrified scream and uses her nails to claw at my exposed flesh. I look around and find the reason for her fear.
“Shit,” I mutter without stopping my ministrations. The little brown eight-pound ball of fat and fur stares at her from under his splayed, floppy ears. He growls, raises his butt in the air, barks, and brings his head down to the comforter. At this age, he’s cute when he’s being territorial, but it won’t be so cute when he’s a full-grown pit who thinks he runs this shit.
“Gentle,” I command, still refusing to stop what I’m doing. The dog takes a moment to think about the command before he quiets down. When I order that he sit, he decides instead to walk around the bed to get a better look at Cheyenne. He’s never seen her before, so this is new for him. He’s barely three months old, so he’s still learning his commands. He’s smart, though, so I have no doubt that in time he’s going to be an excellent guard dog for my girl.
“I’m guessing he’s ours,” she whispers, looking slightly less afraid now. Her back arches when I hit a particularly sensitive spot, and her eyes flutter. “Not in front of the dog.”
“Fuck that,” I say. “This is our bed, and I’m not going to stop fucking you every time nosy ass over here decides to enter a room.” Really, he and I are pretty good friends at this point. I’m hoping Chey doesn’t mind him sleeping in the bed with us, because since I got him last week, he’s slept by my feet above the covers.
As creepy as it is, the damn dog watches us the entire time. In a few minutes’ time, she seems to forget about his presence, until my dumb ass has to comment with, “Watch Daddy. I’ll show you how to handle bitches.”
“Asshole,” Chey whispers, almost like it’s a compliment, and reaches down to stroke the sensitive flesh behind my ballsack. A hot jolt rushes up my spine as she clenches down on me, and we come together in near silence with our eyes open and watching each other shudder and shake with the ripples of pleasure that pass over us.
“Thought the place was too big for just us,” I say and nod to the dog when I’m able to speak again. “He doesn’t have a name yet, so that’s been kind of confusing for training purposes.”
“Can I name him Leo?” she asks.
I pull out of her and shake my head in disagreement. If she wants to name the fucking thing Leo, she can, but I don’t have to be happy about it. Somehow, she and Scavo developed a friendship while he was here. She says he makes her feel brave. I want to support her friendships, but I won’t lie—that kind of pisses me off. I want to be her everything, and the idea that she bonded with somebody else doesn’t sit right.
“Don’t be like that,” she says and crawls to the top of the bed where she buries herself under the covers. “You know it’s not romantic or sexual. He’s like a brother to me, and I’m sorry that he’s gone. That’s all.”
“Yeah, I get it. Doesn’t mean I want to name my dog after the guy,” I gripe and crawl up the bed to join her beneath the covers. I stare into her green eyes, taking a moment to really see her and just be fucking grateful that she’s here and with me willingly. Because I would have totally kidnapped her if she had objected to coming home with me. I told her once that she was my always, and I fucking meant it.
She smiles softly, leans in, and grabs ahold of the goatee I’ve been working on, and tugs. She smirks as she says, “We could name him Ryan.”
Back when I was a prospect, the idea of naming a dog after Ryan would have scared me. But now? Fuck it. I’m sure it’ll be funny when he finds out. Plus, it wasn’t my idea anyway.
“Ryan, come see Daddy,” I say. Yeah, I’m one of those fucking people who treats their dog like their kid. Grady thought it was funny until he realized who little Ryan’s mama is if I’m his daddy. The dog stares at me and then Cheyenne and then back to me before prancing up the bed to my lap. I give him a quick rub under his chin and then behind his ears before dropping my hand and letting Chey bond with him.