Defensive Hearts-Bonus Epilogues
Btu Alumni, Book 7
Bonus Epilogue 1
The Best Jensons
I lift a paw to angle the plushy just a bit more, turning the round squeaker inside so I can hook my teeth around it until it squeak, squeak, squeaks with every chomp of my jaws.
“Ugh.” My brother grunts as he lumbers into the living room from down the hallway. “They’re doing that gross stuff again.”
“Duh.” I wheeze out a doggy laugh. “Haven’t you learned that when Dad shuts the door, they’re doing that gross stuff?”
Bamm-Bamm groans, lowering himself beside me and settling his head on his paws. “I think I liked it better when they fought.”
I love my brother, but with a statement like that, I totally get why my Aunt Gemma says boys are dumb.
“No way. Think of how much more we see Aunt Gemma now.”
Plus, what my idiot brother is being too blind to see is how much happier Dad is now that Aunt Gemma gives him the smoochy kisses.
And now that she cooks for him, we don’t have to hear him grumbling under his breath about how unfair it is that she only cooks for us every time he feeds us. I don’t know if he thought we couldn’t hear him the gazillion times he would complain, complain, complain, but hello, dogs are pretty well known for how good our hearing is. We heard every “Surrre, she cooks for you, but not me” and each “Look at all these ingredients she puts together for you, but she can’t throw together a simple meal for me.”
Jealousy is not a good look on Dad, no matter how much it makes Aunt Gemma fan her face.
“Ugh. Are they going to have a puppy?” Bamm-Bamm asks, his tail no longer thumping against the rug.
I pause chewing and tilt my head. “What’s wrong with a puppy? Puppies can be fun.”
Bamm-Bamm levels me with one droopy eye. “Famous last words, sis.”
I’ll never admit it out loud, but my sister was right. Now that Dad is all lovey-dovey with Aunt Gemma instead of acting like a Shih Tzu with little dog syndrome, things are most definitely more awesome here.
For one, Aunt Gemma staying with us when Dad is on the road rocks. Now I’m not saying our usual sitter Amanda isn’t awesome—she is—but Aunt Gemma, well…when she stays with us, she makes us special treats. If only she didn’t keep them in that Grumpy Cat cookie jar. We are dogs. Why does it have to be a cat?
Yeah, yeah, yeah…I know Pebbles says it’s because Aunt Gemma loves to call Dad a Grumpy Gus, but a cat? Really? The audacity.
“What are you doing?” Pebbles asks, plopping down to sit with a judgmental head tilt.
I swing my head around, my tongue lolling to the side. “What?”
Pebbles harrumphs. “I asked what the flip are you doing?”
“Nothing,” I claim, though it’s a lie.
“Oh, really?” Pebbles tips her head to the other side, her ear flopping over inside out.
Yeaaah, she doesn’t believe me. Not that I blame her—I’m totally lying.
Ignoring the judgment brigade, I reposition my paws on the countertop and lean in until I’m snout to nose with the dumb cat sitting all smug on his perch near that big mixing thing Dad keeps for Aunt Gemma.
Giggling echoes from down the hall and Pebbles takes off toward it, done with me now that our favorite hoomans have reemerged after rudely locking us out.
“Is my guy feeling neglected?” Aunt Gemma coos while using both hands to scratch around my ears. She kisses the top of my head, and I stretch my neck back to lick the tip of her nose.
“No, my best boy is plotting to destroy that monstrosity you insist on cluttering my counter with,” Dad says, glaring at the cat harder than I was.
“Well, maybe if you work on turning that broody frown of yours upside down a bit more, I’ll replace your ceramic portrait with something different,” Aunt Gemma teases.
“You’re such a smartass.”
“You love me anyway.”
I let out another grossed-out harrumph while my sister is back to her dreamy sighing. I don’t think this is what they meant by puppy love.
Aunt Gemma turns her attention back to me, raining kisses all over my face and stretching an arm over me to lift the big fat head off the stupid cat. Except all my complaints disappear faster than snacks down my gullet when she pulls a bone-shaped treat from the bowels of the gross feline.
“You spoil him, Precious,” Dad says, reaching around Aunt Gemma to give me his own head scratch before tugging her back into him.
“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black, hmm?” Aunt Gemma places a smoochy kiss on the underside of Dad’s jaw before rubbing at the fur he has growing on his cheeks, and Dad’s eyes close the same way mine do when Aunt Gemma gives those good neck scratches that make my collar go all jingly.
My sister, the buttinsky, pushes her way into our little Bamm-Bamm-is-getting-all-the-love cluster, jumping up and placing her paws next to mine on the counter, her big ol’ butt wiggling side to side as she steals the attention from me.
“Always with the sass, baby.”
Dad starts doing that weird thing to the side of Aunt Gemma’s neck, and I have to look away before I throw up the peanut butter treat she just gave me.
Why does he always slobber on her neck? Doesn’t he know butt sniffing is the way to go?
Hoomans are weird.
Bonus Epilogue 2
My phone rings and I have to wiggle out from beneath Pebbles—nothing new there—to reach it on the bedside table.
“Hello,” I answer around a yawn, propping the phone against Pebbles’s side and peeling one sleepy eye open to see my boyfriend looking far too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for my still-asleep self.
“Morning, baby.” Chance’s deep voice rumbles through me, waking up any of my still-sleepy nerve endings.
“Mmm. I love when you call me that.”
I smile at the phone, feeling the pull of those deep inky eyes looking at me even though he’s miles away. It’s silly how much I miss him when he’s gone, like my whole body aches for his presence.
“Miss me?” he asks softly.
“Of course,” I whisper back before I can stop myself.
“I see Pebs and Bamm-Bamm are keeping you company,” he teases, and I laugh despite my current lack of space.
“You know it.” I roll my eyes, but secretly, I can’t help but love them for it.
Chance runs a hand over his head, fingers dancing through his dark hair.
“There’s something categorically wrong about a man being jealous of his dogs.”
I laugh at his pouty tone, and finally, Pebbles’s eyes open and look my way. She grunts a little before settling back down with a big sigh, immediately falling back asleep.
“Mmm, but jealous looks soo good on you.”
The heat flaring in Chance’s dark eyes has any residual sleepiness evaporating under the lust now pumping through my veins.
I close my eyes for a moment, pretending this morning is like any of the ones when the Blizzards aren’t traveling, pretending Chance is here with me in this bed and we’re face to face. I can pretend I’m stroking his hair and it’s not just my imagination playing games with me, pretend I’m not curled up in the middle of the bed with Bamm-Bamm on my feet, Pebbles on my chest, and Chance on my screen.
“If I were there, I’d show you just how good I’d look on you.” The deep, velvety warmth of his voice makes me shiver.
“Who knew the grumpiest Blizzard to ever lace up a pair of hockey skates had a corny side.”
“Only for you, baby.”
I turn my face into my pillow to hide my smile. Yes, that I can definitely believe.
“Not that I’m complaining—”
“Yeah, right.” Chance barks out a laugh, cutting me off.
“Shut up.” I shoot him a sleepy side-eye, narrowing my gaze at the smirk tugging up the left side of his mouth. Stupid, stupid sexy facial expression. Oh, how I hate thee.
“But if I shut up, how am I supposed to tell you how sexy you are naked?”
“But I’m not naked,” I counter because that’s what I do.
“Not yet, but”—he lifts his free arm, glancing at his wrist—“it’s almost time for naked time, and you know how good I am at assisting with that.”
This time there’s no disguising my grin because he’s not wrong. Naked time has become a whole other thing now that Chance Jenson is my boyfriend. The man has made it his mission to make sure any negative thing ever said to me, or any negative thought I’ve had about myself is drowned out by his praise.
“You’re too early, Canada.”
He blows out a breath. “No time like the present, Precious.”
“There is when I haven’t had my coffee yet,” I grumble.
“Pfft. Who needs caffeine when an orgasm is the best stimulant there is?”
I can’t help but giggle at Chance’s comment, shaking my head and rolling my eyes. “While I can agree with that statement, I am not flicking my bean in front of a furry audience.”
He rubs at his scruffy jaw, lifting that single brow that drives me mad. “Dogs.” Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm immediately lift their large heads, collars jangling from the jerky movement. “Get out.”
Neither of them moves, and now I’m lifting my pillow to hide my full-out belly laughs. It’s not that they aren’t listening—well, not only that—but it’s more the utter confidence Chance had that they would listen despite his command coming through a speakerphone.
“There are treats in the living room,” he singsongs, and both dogs jump off the bed, sending me rocking and rolling like I’m suddenly in the middle of the ocean during a hurricane.
I smush the pillow back under my head. “It’s not going to take them long to figure out you’re lying.”
“Then you better hustle that sexy ass of yours out of bed and shut the door before they figure it out.”
“Mmmph, I don’t wanna,” I whine.
“I promise to have you screaming my name in under five minutes if you do.”
Electric sparks skitter across my skin, settling in my veins and making them blaze with a need I can hardly contain. I scramble to untangle myself from the covers and am out of bed and shutting the door just as two disgruntled pups amble down the hall.
Ooo, I’m going to pay for Chance’s duplicity later.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Chance says softly and lovingly as his gaze moves over me, hungrily taking in how his Blizzards T-shirt hits me midthigh.
My heart pounds faster as I lift the phone and extend it in front of me, angling it so he can see my fingers toying with the edge of the cotton.
“You said five minutes?” I ask, moving into the bathroom, thumbing over to flip to the front-facing camera, and stripping the T-shirt off.
I can hear the sound of Chance’s breathing as his eyes take in my reflection.
“Hey, Siri, set a timer for five minutes,” he calls out to his Apple watch.
The countdown begins, and Chance wastes no time before instructing me to pinch my nipple. He hums his appreciation, the throaty sound meaning more to me than any words could at this moment.
“Such a good girl,” he praises, his thumb dragging across his bottom lip as he takes in the way my boob spills over my fingers as I squeeze it at his command. “I bet your greedy little clit is getting jealous.”
I nod. It is. It’s pulsing with every pounding beat of my heart.
“Touch it,” Chance commands.
Time’s ticking, and I can almost feel the energy radiating off of him as I pinch my nipple one last time and moan his name. His eyes are dark with need as he watches me, drawing out my pleasure until I’m practically panting.
Chance’s gaze moves over me hungrily as I move my hand lower, tracing circles around my navel before finally doing the same to my clit.
“Spread your legs wider,” he growls, and I comply without hesitation, parting myself for him in invitation. “That’s it,” he says approvingly, as if he was here in person, before moving his attention back to me. “Show me how badly you want it,” he demands throatily, and I spread my lips, boldly showing him where I ache for him most.
His audible exhale is pure sin. “Now thrust two fingers inside your cunt, and don’t you fucking stop until you’re screaming my name.”
The sound of his voice sends electricity crackling through my entire body. The pleasure is intense, and I feel a deep pressure building as I do what he asks.
“That’s it, baby,” Chance says, his voice full of admiration and desire.
He watches me with a dark intensity as my movements become more frantic, the tension in my body rapidly mounting. Every stroke brings me closer to the edge until, finally, I’m screaming out his name and quaking from the force of my orgasm.
Chance groans out his own pleasure as the timer goes off on his watch, our gazes still locked together even though we’re miles apart. When the last ripple subsides, he grins at me smugly.
“Now that’s how you spend five minutes.”
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