Really, it was a wonder they got any work done. By the time Brandon got home that day, he’d been f****d uncountable times. His ass felt a little sore when he moved, but after months of this, his body was used to it and didn’t complain much. Brandon was aware that it was probably kind of messed-up that he liked feeling the soreness. It reminded him of Wilson even when he wasn’t there.
“Are we going to finally talk about it?”
Brandon came to a stop and winced. “Hey. I’m tired. Can we talk tomorrow—”
“No, we can’t,” Britney said from the couch, where she had apparently been lying in wait for him? “It’s eleven in the evening, Brandon. Eleven! This is inhumane!”
“We had lots of work,” Brandon said defensively. “I’m being paid for overtime.”
“Lots of work,” Britney said, practically radiati
