Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“I’d love to, Frankie. I…” And then as if he doesn’t have the words, he leans in, nuzzles my throat, sucks the lobe of my ear into his mouth before he nuzzles me again and gives me a soft whimper.
“You don’t have to thank me, Pup.” I rub the back of his head. “I’m glad you’re going too.”
17
Evan
Frankie and I walk along the sidewalk toward Bouldercrest Park.
“This sounds like it’s going to be fun,” I say. “I’ve never volunteered to help out with anything like this before.”
“It’s really cool. This nonprofit teamed up with a few local groups, like this LGBTQIA youth organization, so everyone can get together to help improve the park. It’s nice because we can clean up the park and meet some cool kids who are just happy to get out and be around other people who get them. They do this every other weekend, so it’s one of the easier ones for us to time with…you know, our fucked-up anniversary.”
I was honored when Frankie asked me to come, not just because he wanted me to meet his mom and stepdad, but because I know what this day means to them…and I want to be here for him.
“Well, I appreciate the invite,” I tell him. “And I’m excited about meeting your mom and stepdad!” I grin as a rush of excitement pulses through me.
“Excited?” he asks, his head tucked low so that I can mostly see his beanie as he side-eyes me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Yeah. You talk about her all the time, but I’ve never gotten to meet her before. I mean, I am your best friend, so—”
“Oh, really? You think you’re my best friend.”
“Whatever. You’d be lucky to have a best friend like me,” I say, sashaying until he laughs.
“I am lucky,” he says, though his words are more serious, unlike the playful joke I was making.
I stop posturing and continue walking, turning and noticing Frankie’s warm expression. My cheeks flush with heat.
What’s getting into me?
Since we’ve started all this puppy-play stuff, since I’ve opened up to Frankie on this whole other level, this connection we share has become so much more than the friendship we had before. And even more important, it’s not something I’m nervous or uneasy about.
I’m excited…and turned on, really.
It’s not just about the fun; it’s knowing that Frankie would never do anything to hurt me. I know his heart and what a good person he is. I’ve put my trust in the wrong guy before, but that isn’t him, and I’m lucky he’s in my life.
As we walk by Flirt on the way to the park, a man walking a pit bull passes us.
“What do you think about that?” Frankie asks. “You think you’re a little pit bull?”
When we’ve been walking through town since I first donned my puppy hood with him, we’ve commented on a few breeds we’ve seen out and about, trying to figure out which one would suit me best, but we can’t seem to find the right one.
“He looks so sad. Is that what I look like to you?” I ask him.
“No, definitely not.”
“Ugh. I’ve been looking at dogs online on my break at work, but I haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Look at my little runt doing his homework,” he says before running his hand through my hair.
It’s just a playful rub—but different than the way it was before we started with the puppy play, because I don’t pull away or resist. I lean into it.
As we mosey across the crosswalk, we spy a woman carrying a yapping Chihuahua, who the woman keeps shushing. Frankie starts to say something, but I immediately bump up against his shoulder and cut him off with, “Don’t you even dare.”
“Oh, you aren’t my little yappy Evan?”
“That’s more like what Pup Derek would look like.”
“He’d make a good pup,” Frankie notes. “I wonder if Jackson would be into that.”
“I have a feeling Jackson might be into a lot of things,” I say, reflecting on my convo with Derek at Otterly.
“Wait. What? No, never mind. I don’t want to think about Daddy Jackson’s sex life.”
“You could be Daddy Frankie if you wanted,” I tease.
He shakes his head. “Nah. Doesn’t sound like me.”
“You’d be a sexy daddy, though.”
“I’m a sexier pup handler.”
“True,” I confess, not really joking.
The entrance to the park is a few yards away. As we near it, I spot a guy with a greyhound mix that’s half its owner’s size, and before I can say anything, Frankie blurts out, “Definitely not.”
I chuckle as he hooks an arm around me and pulls me close. “Don’t worry, Ev. We’ll figure it out. Even if we have to sit down and go through a catalog of every dog breed known to man.”
It’s so interesting because, jokey as Frankie can be, I can tell he’s serious about this. He’s not mocking me or making fun of figuring this out. He’s sincere. He knows this is something that’s important to me and like with so many things he’s done with my interest in puppy play, he makes me feel safe talking to him about it.