Whipped (Hitched #2)(36)

My mom serves us both and calls my dad in, who was out in the garden pulling weeds. I wait and watch Lachlan take his first bite.

And I smile as he has his first foodgasm. Trust me, it's a thing.

After rolling his eyes back and smiling and groaning and moaning, he finally swallows.

"What did I tell you?" I ask.

"You were right. I will never question you again, my Queen. Angela, these are the best anything I've ever tasted in my life."

My mom smiles and pats his hand. "They're yours anytime you want to come over."

"It's not that long a drive from Vegas," he announces as he devours his plate. "We could probably make this a weekly thing. What do you say, Vi?"

I just laugh and keep eating. My mom has this effect on people. It's a miracle I ever moved out.

***

We spend the rest of the day walking around Belmont Shores, exploring the shops, eating lunch at BJ’s Pizza—which, to Lachlan's dismay, doesn't actually serve blow jobs—and enjoying the shoreline.

That night, we get ready for something my parents planned for the four of us, a mystery cruise dinner. The premise is simple. We board a ship for a few hours while a cast of actors perform a murder mystery that we have to solve while eating dinner and dessert.

Easy enough.

When we arrive we are nearly late because as lovable as my parents are, timely and prompt they are not. I have to whisper sweet nothings into Lachlan's ear to calm him. Apparently he's the 'prompt' type and gets really stressed at the thought of being late. He's convinced the ship has left without us when we arrive five minutes late, but we have plenty of time and board in high spirits.

Before we enter, we are given the opportunity to take pictures together holding various weapons. Lachlan laughs and picks up a wicked looking plastic knife. "The dancer, in the bedroom, with a knife," he says.

"You are ridiculous," I say, smiling.

He nuzzles my neck. "You won't be saying that when I sheathe my big knife into you later," he says.

I slap him away, laughing and pick up a gun. "This looks good on me."

He pulls me into a kiss. "Everything looks good on you, babe."

The photographer grabs a few shots and then takes pictures of my parents, who make out worse than us. I'd tell them to get a room, but they probably would. And really, who am I to talk at this point?

When we see the bar in the corner with a bartender ready to pour, everyone smiles. "Drinks are on me," Lachlan says. Oh, boy.

I take the liberty of ordering for everyone while my parents get our seats at one of the round tables in the back. When the bartender gives me a confused look, I take him through the mixed drinks I know my parents like best.

We've already burned a hole in Lachlan's pocket by the time the show starts, and the heat of the alcohol is making my body fuzzy and happy.

It's hard to focus on the show. Someone dies. Some other people are talking. I have to pee.

I make my way—carefully and a bit wobbly in my red high heels—down the stairs and to the tiny bathroom. After I'm done, I'm about to leave when Lachlan suddenly appears, blocks my exit and pushes me back in with his body. He closes the door behind him and rubs his hands over my back as he nibbles my neck. "You are f*cking gorgeous," he says.

I can taste rum on his mouth as he kisses me. "What are you doing here?" I ask. "You're missing the show."

"I already know the killer," he says.

"You do?" This surprises me. I'm not even sure I know who the victim is, let alone the killer.

"Yes, it's the cousin who owned the dry cleaner. They did it for the money and revenge. The email addresses gave it away."

I nod, totally lost but willing to believe him because his hand just slid up my skirt and I don't care about fake murders or emails, I just want this sexy, delicious man standing in front of me.

He hikes up my skirt, pulls aside my panties and spreads me, then lifts me onto his hips, holding me up by my ass as he uses the walls of the bathroom to brace me.

When he enters me, everything crystallizes into just me and him. Nothing else exists. He fills me and makes a fire burn deep in my belly as he pushes his hips into mine, entering me deeper and deeper, his fingers digging into my flesh, deliciously tight and so f*cking hot.

This position stimulates my clit and my nipples as every part of our body connects, and when I come it's hard and deep and it sends him over the edge pretty f*cking fast.

When we go back upstairs, I feel confident we've covered our tracks. I put myself back together and fix my hair and clothes and no one knows, right?

We eat some cake and fill out some forms (I copy Lachlan's answers, because I, obviously, don't know shit about what happened) and then my parents disappear for a tad too long.

When they come back, I'm horrified.

My mom has a big smile on her face, and my dad looks like the cat that ate the canary. If the canary was my mom. Yuck.

"You kids sure know how to pick ‘em," he says. "That bathroom was just the trick."

I feign gagging sounds. "I can't believe we've had sex in the same place as my parents."

My mom laughs. "Oh, honey, you're so funny. You think we've never gotten it on in your bedroom?"

My face turns red, and Lachlan laughs with them while I die a slow and painful death. Thank God there's more alcohol.