The Firework Exploded (The Holidays #3)(34)

“I don’t know what the f*ck is happening right now, but Sam, I’m calling your phone one last time. One of you f*ckers better find that thing. I’ve got poetry to write,” Alex complains, pulling his phone back from his ear to look at the screen, his finger hovering over the redial button.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! DON’T CALL MY PHONE AGAIN!” I shout like a mad man as I dive toward him to smack it out of his hands.

My body jerks and freezes in place like it was hit with a Taser when Alex ignores me and presses the button. The vibration from the first silent ring brings my dick back to life just like voice of Kid Rock did to Turd Ferguson. My hands fly to my crotch, pressing as hard as I can to restrain the f*cking thing, but each vibration makes it pulse against my palms, refusing to GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP.

I drop to my knees next to the kitchen table, groaning in misery because I can’t stop moaning in pleasure and my f*cking hips won’t stop rocking against my palms. Sweat drips down my face as I grit my teeth and let out a war cry and move one shaking hand into my pocket, pulling the phone out as carefully as possibly so it doesn’t graze against my sensitive dick. I feel like I’m playing the most twisted version of Operation and if this phone touches any part of my anatomy, a loud buzzer will sound, indicating I just came in my pants and lost the game.

“Are you kidding me? The phone was in your pants this whole time?” Alex complains as I slowly pull the still-vibrating phone out of my pocket and toss it away from me.

The phone slides across the floor and smacks against the opposite wall, rattling against the tile for a few more seconds before Alex finally ends the call and shakes his head at me.

“MOM! BRING ME SOME BLEACH!” Nicholas screams from under the faucet, still showering his face, eyes and ears with cold water. “BLEACH, GASOLINE, LIGHTER FLUID…BRING ME SOMETHING, ANYTHING!”

I try to remind Nicholas that Bev isn’t here to help him since her, Noel, Scheva, and Aunt Bobbie went to lunch, but I’m too drained. With a shuddering, exhausted breath, I drop the rest of the way to the floor onto my stomach, pressing my cheek against the cold tile with my arms and legs sprawled out around me.

The kitchen door that leads out to the backyard suddenly flies open and quickly slams shut. My limited view from the floor has me staring at a pair of dark blue, men’s slippers as they stomp across the room and stop right in front of my face.

“What the devil is happening in here? I’m outside trying to do a few practice runs with some of last year’s leftover fireworks to start making Max piss his pants in fear, and I can hear you three girls screaming over the explosions,” Reggie complains.

“Sam lost his phone and got a hard-on for Nicholas. You know, the usual,” Alex informs him from his seat at the table.

“I want my mommy!” Nicholas cries from the sink.

“Really, if you think about it, this is all your fault, Mr. Holiday,” Alex states. “The groom is dying from lack of dairy. I think he should get a one-day reprieve and be allowed a glass of Vitamin D milk. None of that water-like skim shit, either. We’re skipping one and two percent and going right for the good stuff before both of his heads explode or he starts humping your kitchen floor.”

Like a half-dead fish on the beach, I flop over onto my back with my arms spread out to my sides before the coolness of the floor starts to feel too good on my dick. I stare up at Reggie as he glares down at me.

“I did not have sexual relations with the kitchen tile,” I whisper in a low, mumbling voice, having no control over the words coming out of my mouth at this point.

Before he can pull his foot back and slam it into my face, the sound of the front door opening and the chatter of female voices can be heard from down the hall.

“REGINALD HOLIDAY, WHERE ARE YOU?!” Bev shouts from the foyer.

Reggie’s eyes widen in fear and he quickly bends down toward me, sticking his finger in my face.

“If you get your ass up off my floor, distract Bev and never, ever speak of what happened in this kitchen again, I won’t kill you,” he tells me in a low voice.

“WHY IS MY HYDRANGEA BUSH ON FIRE?!” Bev shouts again, her footsteps pounding against the floor as she makes her way down the hall toward us. “I SWEAR TO ALL THAT IS HOLY, IF YOU WERE LIGHTING OFF FIREWORKS EARLY, I WILL TAKE THE GARDEN HOSE TO THE STASH YOU HID INSIDE THE BARN!”

Bev gave Reggie a limit of twenty fireworks when he went with one of his buddies from the VFW to the firework store in Pennsylvania yesterday. Against my better judgment and the fact that being in the military means I should probably not have anything to do with any kind of illegal activity, even if it is just the transport of a few fireworks over state lines, I stopped by last night when I got a text from Reggie to come over and help him with something. At this point, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make the guy like me and stop threatening me, even if it meant helping his friend back the U-haul they rented up to the barn after Bev went to sleep, and assist them in unloading seventy boxes filled with explosives and hiding them in there.

Realizing he just spared my life when he could have easily grabbed a kitchen knife and cut off my dick after what Alex just told him, I scramble up off the floor to do what needs to be done. I give Reggie a salute as he nods in silent agreement, races around me and toward the kitchen door, grabbing Nicholas’s arm and yanking him with him as he goes.