#Chapter232
The next day rolled around in a fast-forward tumble. Ronan woke early, too little sleep behind his belt for his wake up greeting to be anything other than a dull grunt, and he shuffled across the hall to the bathroom.
Flicking the seat up, he slid his booty shorts and briefs down, pulling and aiming, head falling back as the morning relief flowed. He made a mess. It was almost impossible to aim with morning glory, but-
/"Fuck!/" he screeched, stumbling back. There was somebody watching him from the shower. Or, rather, something. /"Fucking Buster,/" he cursed. /"I'll throw you a blind date with a lawnmower if you keep it up./"
It was his dad's favourite prank. He'd been a bastard for it when he used to live at home. He'd hide the dummy everywhere to catch him off guard. He'd found them in his bed. Under the kitchen table. In the passenger seat of his car. You name it, he'd found it there.
