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Kindle Notes & Highlights
by
C. Rochelle
Read between
November 14 - November 14, 2023
“Guys, I can’t feel my nuts. I think my suit might have shrunk in the wash or something.”
It was Simon who replied, no surprise. “Perhaps your body is going into fight mode, Baby Hulk, in response to the threat of adulting. Except, in your case, that means all available blood has rushed to the only head of yours that continues operating under duress.”
There was stiff competition in our family. Wolfy terrified our enemies, Xanny was nerd-level smart, and the twins could get inside any opponent’s head. But they were all super gay, and mostly off the market. Vi may have had the oven for baking a super-baby, but she was too batshit crazy for anyone to consider reproducing with. Plus, she’s a better enforcer than I could ever be.
Zion. I sighed angrily. The realization that it was my asshole sports rival who was psyching me out pissed me off more than my shrinking supersuit. Don’t let him get in your head, Balty.
He sighed before stepping closer, invading my personal space like a test. “You are better than this, Baltasar. You are a fucking Suarez. The Salah clan may have heroic political influence, but only the oldest two siblings can hold a weak candle to what the six of us can do with actual power. You are not just a piece of meat. You are here with a purpose—to marry Dahlia, help her bypass Zion to take the throne, and then absorb their house into ours.” My heart was galloping in my chest, but I nodded and stood my ground, knowing it was what he wanted to see. “Yeah, I know, but…” How the hell am I
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Zion’s gaze lazily dragged over my body in a very different way from how the rest of his family—including my fiancé—had looked at me so far. I froze, unsure if I should pull my suit back on or act as if nothing had happened. Or, pull it off the rest of the way to really give him a show. Where the fuck did that come from?
“Well, I’ll let you get back to struggling with your tight little supersuit—” Little? “Nothing about me is little, Z,” I scoffed, annoyed when the nickname easily rolled off my tongue yet again. His gaze dragged over my exposed chest and arms before settling on my face. “Me neither, B,” he replied, unexpectedly dropping a nickname of his own. “See you at dinner.”
But I was secretly pleased that my snobby family was being forced to welcome an outsider they saw as beneath them. Too bad they couldn’t manage it years ago…
“Well, maybe I should sit at the kid’s table,” he murmured, cheeks pinking ever so slightly—torturing me further. “Since Daisy was the only one who seemed to want to talk to me today. And it’s gonna sound dumb but… the way she roasted me kind of reminded me of home…” Goddamnit, Baltasar. So much emotion welled up inside me—not only because of his warm tone while talking about Daisy, but because of how she'd taken to the big guy as well. I wasn’t kidding when I said her approval was rare. From what my daughter had told me, Baltasar Suarez passed her test simply because he’d shown her kindness.
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Deathball was a suped-up mash-up of rugby, American football, and MMA, and was created specifically for those whose powers leaned toward the brute force variety.
Little did they know, all I ever wanted was to stick my dick in my rival’s tight end.
I wonder if I could get him beneath me again… A groan escaped me as I imagined us in this position, only naked—my ridged cock stuffing his virgin ass full until he was begging me to breed him. Fuck, I want to hear him beg. And I definitely want to breed him.
It didn’t help that I was exhausted, since something had woken me up around 4 am. I’d leaped off the bed and assumed a fighting stance—convinced that a Salah had arrived to assassinate me on my first night in their murder mansion.
The strangest part—and what kept me awake for a while afterward—wasn’t the faint noise, or concerns about being attacked. I’d felt unsettled, as if I were forgetting something important, and my chest ached the same way it did after certain Deathball matches. I’d felt… empty. Maybe this house is haunted. Or I’m getting possessed by a heroic demon.
“Mine,” he replied, still staring at me like he wanted to eat me alive. “I mean… she’s mine, yes. Daisy is.” He blinked rapidly before his gaze shifted to where his daughter sat on my shoulders. “For almost ten years now.”
Fuck, what if I’m not allowed to drink anymore? Or go to the club? Or get a lap dance from a chick with amazing tatas? I CAN’T LIVE LIKE THIS!
I’m straight, but I’m just not thinking straight. Oh, no. What if my supersuit was so tight it cut off my air supply… Through my nuts?!
“I can’t think of anything worse than being alone with my thoughts,” I muttered before snapping my mouth shut—embarrassed I’d said that out loud.
Because I’m totally straight.
I don’t think Baltasar is straight…
“Thanks for the tour, and for cutting me… cutting me FREE, I mean. And for showing me your hole. YOUR SWIMMING HOLE! Jesus Christ, I’m done. I’m fucking done. I’m just gonna go to my room now. Alone. So I can… be alone for… alone time. Jesus.” My beast was clawing to get out. I watched as this ridiculously stacked, awkward bundle of villainous sweetness adjusted his hard-on before spinning on his heel and fleeing the scene of his bi-awakening. I must have him.
Stupid tears stung my stupider eyes as I glared down at my stupidest dick. Every part of me is fucking useless.
There was no reason for me not to tell my gay brother and his gay mafia queen that I might like dick. Hell, the whole gay family would probably throw me a big gay party to celebrate me joining the rest of them on the apparently more exciting side of the playing field.
But Dahlia was a different breed. She scoffed instead. “Yeah, well, I guess anything’s better than the dumbass I’m stuck with now.” Okay, fuck this. My plans to charm Dahlia into a friends-with-benefits situation shriveled faster than my nuts. I knew I wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but if she thought I was putting my prize-winning dick anywhere near her bitchy vagina with that attitude… “Don’t ever fucking call him that again.”
The shaft had four scaled ridges, like you’d find on one of those patriotic rocket popsicles.
“I don’t wanna pretend,” I mumbled as I quickly wrestled myself free, totally game for this fucked up plan. “I like looking at you…”
“You’re the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, Suarez. From the moment I first saw you, I wanted this. Wanted you.”
Tell me I’m pretty.
“Because you take care of what’s yours.” Daisy was simply parroting what I’d told her countless times—that no matter how anyone else in this family behaved, I would always take care of her. And her mom. Even though I failed Mikki in the end. But I won’t with Baltasar—because he’s mine.
It was sad that someone being nice to Daisy—and me—was such a foreign concept, my immediate reaction was to shut it down, but this was my survival mode. I needed to maintain the stoic front I’d worked so hard to hone, to protect my daughter from seeing me as anything less than someone she could count on. No matter what. Because I protect what’s mine.
“Are you eating with us tonight?” Daisy asked, her expression so hopeful my heart shattered. I opened my mouth to reply when Zion answered for me. “No, D, he can’t. Blunty is expected in the dining room, since Auntie Dahlia’s in there.” Daisy scrunched her nose in distaste. “Why are you even marrying a meanie like Auntie Dahlia, Blunty? I’d rather you just be my second daddy instead.” OH, MY GODDD!!! “I gotta go…” I mumbled, spinning on my heel and speed walking through the bedroom door.
“Fuck you, Zion,” I spat, turning away from him to wrench open the door. “Mmm, I wish,” he crooned behind me. “Whenever you’re ready, beautiful.”
The true line in the sand here was that Baltasar Suarez had been my number one crush since day one. Meanwhile, he was clearly just using me to get some shit out of his system before the wedding.
If I was going to swoop in and steal Dahlia’s fiancé—while taking over this clan—I needed to do it in the most heroic way possible. Exposing a scandal ought to do it. But who can I trust? I used to be close with a couple of my brothers, but the way everyone sided with my parents against Mikki soured those relationships real quick.
“You don’t want Blunty marrying her either,” Daisy stated the obvious, although how she’d figured it out was beyond me. “You want him for yourself. For us.” Goddamnit, Daisy. I quickly glanced around to make sure no one had heard her—shockingly accurate—observation. “That’s not how it works, D. I can’t just… take what I want.” “Why not?” She jutted out a hip as she continued relentlessly. “This is your house, isn’t it, Daddy?”
“I’m not…” he choked out—way more upset than this trash-talk session should have made him. “I’m not just some dumb piece of meat for you to play with.”
“Marrying Baltasar does not give Dahlia rights to the throne, you know.”
“The throne is yours to lose, and lose it you will if you don’t start acting like a Salah.” No pressure…
“Daisy is half-supe and half-normie?!” Baltasar exclaimed. “Yes…” I replied, wondering why he was fixating on that aspect of the big reveal. “It wasn’t planned. Hell, I didn’t even know supes and normies could reproduce… since we’re so different and all.”
It wasn’t losing Mikki, even though watching her fade because of her illness was devastating. The real reason I retired from Deathball was that while at my lowest, I received the worst possible news a man could hear. That the only supe I ever wanted was being given to my sister.
Being told the Salah clan had only agreed to this engagement to be nice had stung like a bitch. It also made me mad as hell—at both families. The first thing I did when Major Obscurity dropped me off at my room was call Wolfy. I’d used every ounce of willpower—and deeply ingrained fear—not to yell at my older brother as soon as he answered the phone.
Weirder still was my reaction to his words. Although I was still angry at being left out of the loop, a tidal wave of relief washed over me to know I wasn’t required to make it to the altar with someone I didn’t love. I guess I do care about stuff like that, after all.
Despite being weirdly understanding about the marriage thing, Wolfy insisted I stay where I was—to continue digging up dirt while he and Simon came up with an exit strategy.
And now, I was even more torn. Daisy’s existence was a bigger scandal than Zion shacking up with a supe from the wrong side of the tracks. Mikki had been a normie, and Zion displaying original supe genes—which he knew nothing about—made Daisy the same subspecies as Simon. This intel would be leverage gold for Wolfy. And help Simon learn more about his ancestry. But telling them will betray Daisy… And Zion.
“When I said that, I meant I didn't want you thinking I’m just your fuckboy.” When his deep brown eyes widened, I quickly added, “It’s all I’ve ever been to anyone, and it never bothered me before because that was all I wanted, too. But that’s not what I want… with this.”
Zion was observing me with the same unnervingly unreadable expression he had in lizard form. “And what do you want, B?” he quietly asked, the slight waver in his voice betraying his nerves. “I don’t know…” I replied, even though I had a pretty good idea. I want you.
I may have still been slightly confused about how I felt about Zion, but I knew I did not like Ginger looking at or touching him. Meanwhile, I was still processing the bombshells of Mikki being a normie—and a stripper—and that her famous act was apparently impersonating me… Oh, fuck… Is that what drew Zion to her in the first place?
Gay for lizard dick.
It was a wonder I didn’t immediately unload in my pants. I may have previously considered pussy to be my favorite snack, but Zion’s dick was officially a five-course gourmet meal.
If you’d told me a month ago I’d be on my knees for Zion Salah—submitting to him with his cock stuffed down my throat—I would have laughed. But at this moment, nothing felt more right. This, this, this.
