King of the Causeway: A King Series Novella (King #9.5)(4)

Or maybe, it’s something much much worse.





Chapter 2





Ray





“This house is gonna be fuckin’ epic after the addition is finished. Wish I thought of it when I still lived here. Remind me, did you guys decide yay or nay on my red room suggestion?” Preppy asks. He hands me a bowl of popcorn and plops down on the couch.

I toss a kernel at Preppy.

He catches it in his mouth. “I’ll take that as a no. I should’ve known ya’ll were a bunch of prudes.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s your sex dungeon? Because I don’t remember seeing one in your house the last time we were over.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Are you kidding me? If it wasn’t for the kids and that whole inappropriate thing Dre keeps reminding me about, I’d have a whole sex house.”

King showed me the progress being made on the addition to our house this morning. It’s all framed out now and ready to become a new master suite, additional bedroom, kitchen expansion, and big sound proofed playroom for the kids. It will take a few more months to complete, but Preppy’s right. When it’s all done, it’s going to be amazing and provide our growing family some much needed additional space. No red room. Although, now I’m thinking about sex again. Or the lack thereof.

Like I need more things to feel frustrated about right now.

“What the fuck is going on with your face?” Preppy asks, leaning in and squinting to get a better look at me.

I cover my face with the blanket, and he pulls it back down.

“I mean it. Why you frowning? Boss man ain’t laying the dick down like he used to or something?”

“Or something,” I mutter, popping a few kernels into my mouth. It doesn’t help.

It’s not King. Or sex. Or sex with King.

Which is a problem, but it isn’t the problem.

Preppy chomps on another handful of popcorn. “You know, they make medicine for that now. Say the word, and I’ll get your boy some shit that will make his dick into a fucking shuttle launch.”

I sigh and make sure the gaggle of our combined kids aren’t listening. They aren’t; all six of them are engrossed in the movie currently playing on the tv. “No. He doesn’t need drugs. At my most recent doctor’s appointment, they put the smack down on our sex life until the baby is born.”

“You mean until six weeks after the baby is born,” he corrects.

Fuck. I forgot about the wait time. “Thanks for the reminder.”

He tosses a popcorn at me and it lands in my hair. “Anything to assist you with your sexual frustration. When Dre had the twins, that was a rough six weeks. Gave myself dick-rope burn.”

“How did you get...” Understanding dawns on me. “Never mind. I get it.” I lower my voice. “But so much that you gave yourself rope burn? Really?”

“Yup.” He turns to face the TV. “Didn’t help that I used a rope.” Preppy’s face turns serious. He nods. “Yeah, with a rope.”

Time for a subject change. My thoughts turn to this morning’s unsettling weather report. “I just wish this storm would pass so we could keep going on the construction.”

Preppy waves his hand in the air like he’s sweeping my worry away. If it were only that easy. “It’s a baby storm. A cat one or two. It’s not even supposed to make landfall. It will swirl around off the coast for a few days and make its way toward its final destination and unfortunately some other undeserving town.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better about it?”

“Take it up with Mother Nature,” Preppy responds. He raises an eyebrow suggestively. “But think of how happy you’ll be rubbing one out in your new clawfoot tub if it makes you feel any better.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, masturbating in my new tub makes me feel much better about the potential catastrophic destruction of a town and possible loss of life.”

“Then, my job is done here. You’re welcome.”

I think of all the work King has put into making my drawing for the new rooms of the house a reality. The man really would stop at nothing to make me happy.

You won’t be happy. Not in the tub. Not anywhere. You can’t be happy. Not anymore, the voice inside my head taunts. The one that fills me with needless yet endless amounts of worry and doubt.

I will the voice away. Whatever this is looming over me is just like the storm lingering off the coast. It’s temporary, and it will pass. It has to pass. Besides, I have love, and therefore I have everything.

And that love comes in all shapes and sizes. Romantic love like the kind I feel for King comes with passion, attraction. Parental love comes with a need to protect, a deeper love than any in the world. Then, there’s the kind of love that comes in the form of friendship. Chosen family. Currently, it’s in the form of the blond, tattered and scarred, tattooed man snuggled under a soft blanket on my couch, who is currently mindlessly rubbing my swollen feet.

“Mommy, what’s mastered-batoning?” Max asks, looking over her shoulder.

“You mean masturbating,” Bo replies before the shock of my daughter’s question has a chance to set in. “Also referred to as self-pleasuring. It’s the stimulation of the genit—”