Chase
“Morning, sunshine,” I say as Kara’s long, thick eyelashes flutter open, alerting me that she’s awake.
“Soooo sleepy,” Kara mumbles, curling back up against my shoulder and shutting those pretty blue eyes away from the world again.
I should have fucking slept during the flight, but fuck, man. She looked so fucking sweet, sleeping on my shoulder like that, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
I don’t even know what I was watching her for. Maybe in case she had, I don’t know, a nightmare or some shit.
Maybe because she’s just too fucking pretty to look at—especially when she’s not running that sassy fuckin’ mouth at me for once.
I can hardly fucking believe the man that I’ve become since I fell for this fuckin’ girl. If she was anyone else—literally any other little slut in the entire fucking world—I’d be worried she was making me go soft.
Lucky fuckin’ me, though, all Kara’s ever done is made me rock fuckin’ hard.
“Kara, babe,” Eric says, leaning in to kiss her forehead and smooth her hair behind her ear. “Wake up—we’ve just landed, and there’s something we ought to tell you before we get off the plane.”
“I don’t wanna,” she pouts, still all adorable and sleepy and shit. “Just carry me off the plane—I’m napping here.”
Eric and I share a look.
We both fucking saw how that flight attendant reacted around us, and we both fucking know what’s at stake if we’re right about why.
If Protein Plus is making women that fucking crazy for our cocks, it might mean that Kara’s under its influence, too.
In fact, at the rate she’s been chugging those fucking things, it definitely means she is.
Fuck, man. A woman this fucking hot, this sexy and liberated, this fucking horny, and this willing to take both of us at once?
Kara could have any man in the goddamn world.
If she’s only with us because we’ve fucking brainwashed her with our cum shakes, I’ll be fucking crushed.
But it’s best if we bite the bullet now. Tell her, get her off the fucking things, and let her sort it out.
“Kara, babe,” I say, trying to get this over with while we’ve got the chance.
“Look,” she growls into my shoulder all grumpily, “If you two wanna use your fucking mouths right now, go down on me. If you’re not gonna lick my pussy, then let your woman sleep.”
Our woman. If she had any idea what that fucking meant to me, she’d listen to what we had to say.
But while the prospect of going down on our woman here on the plane is an interesting one, it’s not the fucking time. Besides, the doors are open, and the flight attendants are ushering out the VIP passengers already. Thankfully, it’s a buff-looking dude attendant who comes to let us know we’re welcome to leave the plane—because if I had to see that fucking woman attendant again, I wasn’t going to be happy.
I lift Kara up and cradle her in my arms while Eric grabs our bags. She’s put on a little weight in muscle since we met her—which I’m pretty fucking proud of—but she’s still light as a fucking feather in my arms.
She catnaps the whole way through customs and immigration, too. Poor little thing must be exhausted—I guess before we left, we must have fucked her too hard.
By the time we finally get our checked luggage, she’s groggy—but thankfully, awake. I just want to get this girl to the hotel suite as soon as we can so we can break the fucking news to her.
I care more about Kara fucking Gilmore than I’ve ever cared about anyone in my life—and from the way she’s always cooing and fussing over Eric and me, I’m pretty sure she cares about us, too.
Whatever’s going on with these fucking protein shakes, we’ll sort it out together. Figure out what’s best for Kara, make a plan, and set it into action.
I just want her to be happy, man. I want her to be safe. That’s the important thing. Everything else—my own feelings for her included—it’s all fucking irrelevant by comparison.
Unfortunately for us, as soon as we exit the airport, I realize that we’ve got a different set of problems on our hands.
Problem number one is the goddamn press. As soon as we come out those doors, the world erupts in catcalls and camera flashes.
“Kara! Kara Gilmore!” some asshole with a big-ass professional-sized video camera shouts. “Tell us, do you take both dicks in your pussy, your ass, or do you take one in each hole?”
I slam the heel of my hand into his fucking camera lens before Kara can answer.
“Why don’t you bend the fuck over, buddy?” I snarl. “We’ll see how much of this camera your ass can hold.”
Lucky for him, he’s not as dumb as he looks. Little fucker backs away nice and slow without a follow-up question.
Unfortunately, he’s one piece of shit in a wave of media sewage.
“Kara! Kara! Do you sleep with both of them at night, or do they have a visitation schedule?”
“Twelve inches, huh? So would you say your holes are more wrecked, or would you say they’re destroyed?”
“Kara! Show us your tits again!”
That guy—the last one—him, I karate chop in the throat so hard he swallows his fucking cigarette.
“Can’t fight ‘em all, Chase,” Eric says under his breath. He’s shrugging his suit jacket off to drape around Kara’s shoulders and—breaks my fucking heart—she’s curled up beneath it, shielding herself from all the flashing lights.
This girl is a model, for fuck’s sake. She’s used to photographers, cameras, and candids. But these assholes are a whole new breed of fucked up, and they have no fucking problems making even confident, balls-out, in-your-face Kara Gilmore feel small and attacked.
“Right,” I say, nodding to Eric.
We roll out, with me clearing a path and Eric protecting Kara. I put on my best Fuck with me and see where it gets you grimace, and when people don’t fucking move fast enough, I pick them up and chuck them out of our way.
“We’ve got another problem,” Eric says as we help Kara into the limo waiting for us.
I follow his gaze and look over the photographers, where—fucking hell—a large group of horny-looking women seems to be congregating, pushing their way past the press and prowling towards us like a bunch of hungry, half-starved lionesses.
I know it the second Eric points it out.
Protein fucking Plus.
Worst fucking idea we’ve ever had.
Eric slips into the limo after Kara, and I’m just about to follow suit when one particularly ugly, fat little Ron Jeremy-looking son of a bitch has the gall to push forward and shove his camera beneath my arm into Kara’s face.
“Kara, are you going to get fat again once Miss Sexy Universe is over?” he shouts at my woman. “Still a fatty on the inside, eh?”
And man, I know I shouldn’t do it.
I know it’s like, wrong or whatever, depending on what set of fucked up morals you happen to subscribe to.
And I know it’s only going to end up scoring me a conversation with my parole officer, with a lawsuit breathing down my neck to boot.
But sometimes in a man’s life, he’s just gotta make a fucking decision.
Does he choose the high road? Make a good example for all the kiddos out there and turn the other cheek?
Or does he take the squirrely fucking douchebag who just insulted his woman by the neck and make him eat the few yellowed, crooked-ass teeth the piece of shit has left in his shit-talking mouth?
“Fucking drive,” I say, getting into the limo and shaking a malformed front tooth out of the place where it’s embedded itself into my knuckle.
“Chase!” Kara gasps. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m fucking better than okay,” I tell her—and then, yeah, okay. I fucking go for it.
I grab Kara’s pretty little chin, and I conquer her sweet fuckin’ lips in hard, lingering kiss.
It’s only when I feel something hot and wet on my lips that I realize she’s fucking crying.
“Aw, babe,” I say, looking down at her with concern. “It’s okay—fuck those people, they don’t fucking know you, they don’t know your life.”
“Yellow-bellied bastards,” Eric agrees.
“I don’t fucking care,” Kara sobs. “I’m done. This is over. I fucking quit.”