Page 18 of Katie 2
“He followed me at school. I kind of talked to Dan in the hallway because it would be rude not to, but I told him noagainwhen he asked me to lunch. I tried to get to Brad, and he was gone. That’s it,” I say.
Carter pauses. His fingers linger on my shoulders. “He told you not to talk to him.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t exist in a world where I can’t talk to men. It’s ridiculous. I’m not going to fuck Dan.” His finger digs into my skin, and slowly, the tension fades as he massages my shoulders and neck.
“You know Brad can’t handle these things.” He sighs.
“Asking me not to talk to any man because they might want me would be like me telling you both that you’re not allowed to talk to women at all because they might fantasize about—”
His touch roughens and so does his voice. “You never saw Brad at his worst. Trust me when I say that you need to back off and make it clear to him that nothing is going on.”
“How can I make it clear to him when he’s ghosting me?”
I glance back at him and he shakes his head, his touch softening, and continues to rub my tense muscles.
“So you’re satisfied with three cocks? With being shared? You like being my doll, Brad’s slut, and Dad’s angel?”
“I like being whatever you make me. I only see you three like that. I only want you three,” I answer as he his fingers lower to my back. “All three of you are so good, even when you’re rough, especially when you’re kinky. I can take all three of you and I like it.”
“Good. But that means you say it. You own it. Tell that guy you’re taken. Tell him your boyfriend is possessive and you like it that way.”
“I know, I will,” I say and take a steady breath. “But I meant what I said. I can’t not talk to every man who exists. I’ll tell Dan I’m taken if he tries to talk to me again.”
Carter nods and his touch leaves me. “Give Brad time. He always comes home,” he says.
I chuckle. “In one piece?”
“He’salways in one piece,” he says.
Which doesn’t do a thing for my peace of mind.
Chapter nine
Carter
Once Katie says she needs to at least take notes on the lecture that was recorded, I head to the living room and open a beer. My dad walks over and puts his hand out. Rolling my eyes, I give him a beer of his own.
Dad doesn’t like to talk about things that he doesn’t think need to be talked about. He’s distracted with the fallout of the divorce, keeping up with work, and is sidetracked constantly by Katie. He glances toward her room as he swallows his beer.
“Leave her tonight,” I order.
“Not your place to say,” he growls.
“I know. She’s not exactly in the mood right now,” I say.
I saw it. She didn’t invite me in. She didn’t offer to get on her knees. She didn’t give me her infamous ‘fuck-me’ eyes. She just watched me with a mix of discomfort and nervousness.
I didn’t do anything wrong.
“Well?” Dad asks.
“You know your son. You know if we should be worried about his being out all night and refusing to answer any of us.” I snort.
“Carter,” Dad warns.
“Katie is a college student. She’s attractive. Boys are going to talk to her, and she will allow them to until it gets to a point. She doesn’t want anyone else. I believe her. And I know that she’s not the best liar. She turned the same guy down twice for lunch, Dad.” I huff.
Dad takes another swig. “And your brother was at school, saw her talking to someone, and flew off the handle because she didn’t slap a boy who wanted to talk to her.” He snorts. “Typical. That boy needs to take care of his temper.”
