10. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
The next morning, funnily enough, I did not wake up alone.
What a night, I thought with a smile. Wonder where McKenna got to. Bathroom, probably. Dollars to donuts her slipping out of bed was what woke me up.
The last time I’d opened my eyes to find the ceiling of an Armada hotel room above my head, I’d been certain my life was over.
I’d been alone then—alone and spiraling, certain that Bailey had abandoned me after our one-night-stand from the shame of hooking up with her best friend’s father.
Certain that at best, we were going to pretend it never happened and be moderately awkward around each other for the rest of our lives.
I looked at Bailey, asleep with her head resting on my shoulder. So much for awkward…
Today, I was at peace. No internal audit ran through my head, convincing me I’d fucked up: the only thing my mind was cataloguing were all the tiny aches and pains my middle-aged body accrued the previous night during our escapades.
One of my calves ached from propping myself up on one foot next to the bed for so long, and there was a twinge in my back that hadn’t been there before.
All in all, a small price to pay for the best sex of my life—but a reminder that I wasn’t Bailey or McKenna’s age any longer.
I lay there in the darkness for a minute, savoring the warmth.
I’d always loved weekends at the Cottrell residence: those mornings when you didn’t have to wake up early and go to work, where you could make the rise back into the waking world as slow and sleepy as you wanted.
A glance at my battered Mickey Mouse watch showed we still had plenty of time until checkout.
With Bailey next to me, I could do this all morning.
I could do this for the rest of my life, I mentally corrected.
I waited for the calm, rational Tom to come rushing in.
To remind me that there was no universe in which this girl could ever become Bailey Cottrell, Tom’s second wife.
I’d told myself I wanted it last night, but I’d half-expected it to be one of those crazy night-time ideas that evaporate upon first contact with the cold, clear light of day. A product of adrenaline and hormones.
I glanced at the morning light.
The want didn’t fade.
It was still there, lodged in my chest, even stronger watching the way Bailey curled up against me and nuzzled my side and made cute, half-asleep noises about not being ready to get up yet.
All the obstacles were still there: Savannah, Debbie, what everyone in my career and my life would think about this relationship. Even Mark would balk.
I knew why it was a terrible idea.
But that didn’t stop me from wanting it.
This girl’s not Debbie, I thought, holding Bailey closer. She spent last night sharing me with a girl dressed like a video-game robot and nearly came all over my thigh the first time I finished inside of her. My second marriage would be nothing like my first.
“I fucking love you,” I muttered, my hand gripping the small of Bailey’s back. “Babygirl…”
The door lock beeped.
I tensed up, the motion startling Bailey awake as the door opened. The smell of coffee entered the room, rich and strong, followed closely by a female figure. McKenna.
“Morning,” the coed murmured, flipping on a desk lamp instead of the overhead lights. That commitment to letting us wake up slow I definitely appreciated. “God, you two are conked out like you spent half the night fucking or something…”
I did a double take.
McKenna was dressed for the day: leggings and a hoodie, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, a pair of sunglasses pushed up on her forehead. Perfectly normal college girl attire.
All except for the boots.
The cosplay boots. The sex robot boots. The glossy boots with the six-inch heels that went all the way up her thighs.
She was wearing them, over her leggings, in broad daylight.
Had worn them to go down and get coffee and the bag full of whatever breakfast food she’d bought before Bailey and I woke up.
“Don’t worry,” she snickered, closing the door with one stiletto and holding up the drink tray and a paper bag in triumph.
“I didn’t cause a commotion. I’m far from the first girl to do a walk of shame to the cafe next to the Armada at seven-thirty in the morning.
” She paused, fixing me with a grin, and for a second her stance shifted.
“My legs are back to maximum efficiency, Master.”
“Is that coffee?” Bailey asked, rubbing her eyes.
McKenna grinned. “And bagels. Blueberry for Bailes, everything with the smoked salmon and the cream cheese for Mr. C.” Her teeth nibbled her bottom lip. “I know what you both like.”
“After last night, I’d say that’s a certainty,” I told her.
McKenna laughed as she set the bounty on the hotel room’s desk and started taking out wrapped parcels.
“Bailey told me she made you coffee in your dress shirt last time. I figured I could top her by getting food, too.” A smirk as she looked us over.
“Neither of you ran. So I guess we all enjoyed what happened last night?”
“Absolutely,” Bailey said without hesitation. “Thanks, McKenna. I’m starving.”
McKenna tossed Bailey her bagel, wrapped, then handed both of us coffee. “Enough to do it again?” she asked, with just a touch of uncertainty. “That one’s for Tom, by the way.”
I didn’t answer with words. Instead, as she handed me the to-go coffee, I pulled the coed to me and kissed her, hard and deep. McKenna was flushed and gasping by the time we parted.
“I guess that’ll work for an answer,” she chuckled. “Let me get you your bagel. I grabbed myself something, too—I’m probably even more ravenous than Bailey.”
I watched her as she did it. “I’m still processing the fact that you walked a block downtown in thigh-high combat boots,” I said.
McKenna flexed a leg. “Honestly? They’re comfortable as hell.
I get why 2B fights in them.” She paused, a mischievous look flickering across her face.
“That cosplay’s going to stay Tom-only, though,” she murmured.
“My followers would kill for this kind of content—which is exactly why they’re never seeing it. ”
“Your followers have seen you dressed up before,” Bailey said around a mouthful of bagel.
McKenna snickered. “Not like last night. My followers have seen me with a wig on and a controller in my hand. I’d never done anything that complicated before.” She paused. “It literally wouldn’t have come together without you, Bailey. You were a freaking life-saver.”
Pieces clicked together in my head—something I’d made a note of last night. “Followers?”
McKenna managed not to blush. “I have a gaming channel,” she admitted, handing me my bagel and going back into the bag for hers. “It’s on Twitch, which is—”
“I know what Twitch is,” I said with a chuckle.
“It’s not big, but it’s… let’s say it’s devoted,” McKenna said. “I have a dashboard and a very-inactive Discord server, and it brings in a little extra money. More when I do cosplay.”
“The wigs,” I said.
McKenna grinned. “They’re always asking for more,” she said, striking a little pose against the desk. “How’s it feel knowing that every one of my subscribers would have killed to see me in that 2B outfit, and I did it for you and none of them are ever going to see it?”
I met her eye. “How’s it make you feel?”
She hadn’t expected that. Her smile went wider and slightly manic.
She thought about it for a second. “Special,” she said, her tone almost loving.
I nodded. “That’s how you make me feel, too,” I confirmed.
Now McKenna did blush.
“Sheesh,” she said, taking her food out of the bag. “Is this how he talks to you all the time, Bailey?”
“Almost always,” the blonde said, both hands wrapped around her coffee. The top was off, the liquid within so pale it surprised me. Bailey always did like a little coffee with her sugar and cream. “You heard the other way he talks to me last night.”
“Both of you need to eat,” I said gruffly. “Bailey, stop giving her ammo. McKenna, sit.”
Both girls froze, spots of color appearing on their cheeks. It took me a second to realize why.
I’d just slipped into the same tone of voice I’d used last night. The one Bailey claimed she’d been waiting to hear her entire adult life.
McKenna climbed onto the bed and unwrapped her bagel. Bailey took a small sip of her coffee and beamed. “Yes, Daddy.”
Conversation stilled after that as we all tucked into our breakfast. I was halfway through my salmon bagel, the coffee barely an inch deep in my cup, when I noticed something strange.
All of this felt normal.
Yes, a forty-three-year-old man having breakfast in bed with two coeds the morning after banging both of them like a drum wasn’t exactly society’s idea of a normal situation. If Debbie knew what was happening right now, she’d probably have to be sedated.
But there was no awkwardness. No performances.
Just three people who liked each other a hell of a lot eating bagels and sipping coffee in the bed they’d done their best last night to try and break.
Two who were snuggled a little closer than the other—and a third on the periphery, who even through her mask of snark was clearly yearning to be brought in just as closely.
“Okay,” McKenna said, brushing sesame seeds off her leggings. “So, I know I’m probably belaboring the point, but… we’re all cool, right?”
It was a little funny to see her this way. McKenna was the one who’d been so gung ho about setting this threesome up—and now she was the one who needed the most validation and reassurance. I would’ve expected it to be my babygirl. Or me.
“We’re very cool,” Bailey said over her coffee. “Last night rocked.”
“Ten out of ten,” McKenna agreed. “A masterpiece, total return-to-form for Tom, no notes.” She grinned. “One ravaged piece of cosplay that I’ll have to replace, but that’s more than worth it.”
“You seem worried,” I said. “Are you okay?”