Chapter 26 – Thick Degrees of Penetration

BPOV

"Vegas?"

Bunny nods and slips his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, taking a step toward me. "Yep. There's this thing I have to go to, and I'd like you to be my date."

He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me closer until my hands rest against the hard planes of his chest, and I have to tip my head up to look at him. "A thing?" I'm already dubious, but he's doing a good job of distracting me from my line of questioning with his wandering hands.

"Yeah." He levels his lips with mine, brushing a soft kiss against them. "It's an awards thing."

My response is silenced with Bunny's tongue, which doesn't hold any prisoners and goes straight for the kill, pushing against mine. The slant of his mouth deepening his kiss and his fingers twisting into my hair, as he walks me backward until I feel the cool press of the refrigerator door behind me.

The shock of the change in temperature against my heated skin clears the haze of Bunny lust for a moment, and I break away from his lips. His mouth is parted, his breath coming out in pants. One look at him and my dad will have a conniption. "Bunny, we have to stop." I slide my eyes to the kitchen door and laugh when his handsome face twists into a scowl.

"So you'll come then?" He relinquishes his hold on me, and picks up the lasagna.

"Is this an awards thing for your… movies?" I whisper the last word in case Esme is hovering behind the door, or more likely my dad. A flutter of nerves starts up in my stomach and a vision of watching the nominations for Best Porno flash up in my mind. A swirling mass of heaving, sweaty, moaning bodies in which Bunny's face features in every single one. I'm not sure I can handle seeing him win an award for his outstanding performance in Gang Bangs of New York. I must wince because his eyes soften, and he leans in whispering in my ear. "It won't be as bad as you're thinking. I promise, and it's going to be my final one ever."

"Your final one? Why?" My eyes flash to his crotch and widen. "Oh, your little problem."

"No not that." He rolls his eyes, juggling the casserole dish and a bowl of salad, which strains his biceps in the most mouthwatering way. I consider leaving him to struggle, but I have a sneaking suspicion he's burning himself and trying to be manly about it, so I unburden him of his load. "And anyway, it's not a small problem."

"So I've heard."

"So you've seen."

I bite back my grin and huff out a breath. "Numerous times. Come on, I don't want to leave them alone for too long in there. God knows what they'll be getting up to."

I hold the door open for him, and as he walks past, he lowers his voice and drops a kiss on my bare shoulder, hiding his words from our parents who are watching us like a proud mother hen and an irate hawk trained to kill. "It's my last award ceremony before I retire."

I squeak out a response, but it's lost amongst Esme's praise for her son's culinary skills and my father's concerns over hand hygiene. While Bunny's explaining that he always washes his hands after handling meat, I can't even move as I roll his words around my head. Did he just say what I think he said?

"Are you okay, Bella?" Esme snaps me out of my daze, and I see Bunny smile. The slight nod of his head confirms I did hear him correctly, and when I sit down at the table and feel his hand squeeze my thigh, even the wheelchair pulled up next to Bunny with Emmett sat on it like the Queen of Sheba, can't dampen my mood.

"So Bella, why don't you tell me all about how you two love birds met?" Esme asks, passing the Parmesan over to me. Oh, fuck. We should have thought through our back story.

"Yes, Bella … Edward, I'd love to hear this." I glare at Dad, who steeples his fingers, elbows balanced on the table and turns to Bunny who looks like he wants to slide under the table.

"Erm … we met at a party. It wasn't very romantic, but Edward offered to help me when my car broke down."

Esme pats Bunny's hand. "Such a gentleman."

Dad snorts, disguising it as a tickle in his throat when Esme turns her attention on him. I sense his weak spot immediately.

"Dad works with cars, Esme. He especially loves the classics." I can almost feel the tension leave Bunny as the spotlight moves off him.

"Oh, yes. He's been telling me all about it." Esme flutters her eyelashes at him, and a slight blush rises on his cheeks. "He's offered to take me out for a spin in his convertible."

I feel the spray of water on my cheek at the same time I hear Bunny spluttering. Esme jumps up and runs over, patting his back. "Are you okay?"

He waves her away, coughing into his hand, while my dad's smile broadens into a smug grin. "Went down the wrong way."

"You should be more careful. We wouldn't want you to choke." Dad returns to his lasagna, but not before I kick him in the shin. His eyes widen with the innocent glint of someone who is truly evil.

I stand up and offer red wine to everyone, pausing over my dad's shoulder and whisper in his ear. "Stop it or I'll introduce Connie Lingus to this riveting conversation."

He freezes, and when I return to sit opposite him, he rubs his moustache for a minute and then thinking better of continuing to torment poor Bunny, he turns the conversation to a lighter topic.

By the time we get to dessert, I'm feeling positively drunk. The red wine flowing through my veins is making me feel warm and sluggish. I've finally let my guard down and am actually relaxing. Dad is continuing his attempts to woo Esme, who is about to give herself whiplash if she doesn't stop flicking her hair every time he looks at her. I'm not sure how many starlets he's going to compare her to, but the list seems never ending. The fact she looks nothing like Marilyn Monroe or Bettie Paige seems to bear no relevance. It seems parental embarrassment is the torture of choice in Dad's vendetta but it's the lesser evil to him trying to play a game of Who Am I with Bunny—a game they both will lose. The Porn Star and The Hot Tub King.

"And how's your car Edward, you said it was in Charlie's garage?" Esme picks up a strawberry and begins nibbling on it. An act that has my dad fascinated. I try not to groan, but it is probably the most cringe-worthy display I've ever witnessed. We need to nip this in the bud before it goes any further. I shoot my eyes to Bunny, who looks like he's going to be sick.

He manages to form a coherent response though he still appears to be sucking on a lemon. "Yes, it's mended now. Some idiot left a huge dent in my door."

"It wasn't that huge." I drain the last drops of my red wine. Perhaps drinking until I pass out is the best way forward. Then memories of my dad flirting will disappear from my memory forever. One can only hope.

"How do you know?" Bunny's voice breaks into my lethargy.

"What?" I look over at him, his brow is furrowed and his head is cocked to one side, inquisitively.

"How do you know about the dent? You never saw it?"

Holy fucking hell.

"Erm … I saw it at the garage."

"No you didn't." Dad interjects unhelpfully.

"Yes. I. Did." I try to warn him, but he's got his evil mastermind grin back, and he's definitely not backing down.

"No. You saw it afterward. When we'd got all the pale blue paint off it and tapped out the dent." Dad folds his arms across his chest before he lays out the final piece of evidence. "It's a funny thing, Bella, the blue was a very similar shade to Bettie. What a coincidence." He chuckles and Esme joins in.

I slowly turn to Bunny, whose face looks like it's carved out of marble. Cold and stony.

Fuck my life.

A/N Thank You so much for reading, we adore your reviews and hope you are having as much fun as we are. Sorry this is a little late you can blame Dior Rob. Swoon.

A-JASPER-FOR-ME and Grnidgrl fluff our writing so perfectly, that we want to give them each a night with Bunny & Dior Rob.

Thank you to Kassiah for the shout out on The Fictionators. We may have squealed a little. A lot.

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