by Ellis, C. R.
Yesyesyesyesyes.
“I’ve dreamt of that—of all of it, Bryce,” I said, his bold confessions giving me the courage to shine a light on my own. His head popped up, meeting my eyes through the dim glow. I cupped his unshaven cheek in a gesture far too sweet considering the filthy words coming out of his mouth. Or the ones about to spill from mine. “I’ve imagined it all. Every night. Before, when you made that masturbating comment? You weren’t wrong. It’s been this way since the day you came over and played Mario Kart. At this point, my vibrator should be renamed in your honor.”
“Vibrator?” The question was barely out of his mouth before he scooted down and grabbed my panties with his teeth. Once they were off, he looked up and wiggled his eyebrows playfully, a dangerously seductive smile crawling from one side of his mouth to the other. “Better brace yourself, Uno, ‘cause I’m about to ruin vibrator-Bryce for you. You won’t even be able to look at it without knowing it’s a shitty substitute for the real thing.”
Okay, I only thought I liked Bryce’s (relatively) tasteful dirty talking.
Turned out the real deal was a thousand times better than I ever could’ve imagined.
And then it got even better.
His fingers slid up my leg until they were there, pushing into the wetness, into me.
“So wet,” he commented, sinking his fingers deeper. “What do you want, El? Hard and fast? Sweet and slow? Tell me.”
Before I could register his question, he snaked his tongue out and over my clit.
His words…his mouth…his fingers…independently they would’ve rendered me breathless. Together, they drew a loud moan out of me and made me forget how to make decisions.
“Yes and yes,” I panted, nodding frantically. “I want both. Either. Just don’t stop, whatever you do.”
“Believe me; stopping is the last thing I want right now. Not when you taste even better than I imagined. Sweeter,” he said, the stubble on his cheeks tickling the inside of my thighs with each mumbled word.
His fingers started moving in sync with his mouth, a blissful torture, and I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth in an effort to contain the wild, desperate sounds Bryce’s handiwork elicited.
Without breaking his concentration, he reached up and batted my arm away from my face. “No. Let me hear you, Elliot.”
I complied, not even trying to contain my volume as I moaned his name while I fell apart seconds later.
The sound of foil ripping yanked my head out of the orgasm-clouds and crashed me right into a wave of greedy desire. I propped myself up on my elbows in time to catch Bryce’s abs constrict while he rolled the condom on, and it took me a second to realize the foreign, needy whimpers were coming from me.
I hooked my legs together behind him and urged him forward. He looked up but didn’t budge.
His hand wrapped around his cock, gripping the base. “This what you want?”
“God, yes,” I cried desperately.
But it was drowned out by the sounds of real crying.
Loud and piercing.
From the baby monitor on Bryce’s dresser.
We both froze and looked over at the screen that was now lit up with a black and white feed.
Peyton was standing in her crib, her cries on the verge of hysteria.
Bryce groaned and muttered something about her weird sixth sense and that his dick was about to hate him.
Reluctantly, he rolled off me and tugged on a pair of sweats.
“Um…should I…?” I gestured toward my clothes, suddenly feeling exposed and awkward.
“No, don’t. This shouldn’t take long.”
“Okay.”
Ten minutes and two failed attempts at sneaking out of her room later, I started to worry he’d never get her back to sleep.
On the plus side, watching him with her through the monitor, hearing him comfort her in a gentle, soothing tone brought the biggest smile to my face.
Just when I didn’t think it could possibly get sweeter, he started humming then singing quietly.
Bryce freaking McKnight was singing Elton John’s ‘Tiny Dancer,’ and I suddenly wanted him to sing me to sleep.
Swoon.
The next thing I knew, arms wrapped around me as a hard body pressed into me from behind, and a sharp stubble grazed the side of my neck, vibrating with the hum of a soft melody.
“Bryce?” I mumbled, trying to pull myself out of slumber.
He kissed my temple. “Shh, go back to sleep, El.”
“But—”
“Later, Uno. I’m not going anywhere.”
As I settled into his embrace and let myself fall back to sleep, I only had one thought.
Please don’t let this be a dream.
Chapter 18
Elliot
After a night that felt like a dream, the following morning definitely wasn’t.
Peyton’s “Dada!” chants woke us up, and I realized how impulsive sleeping over had been. We didn’t have a plan, hadn’t discussed how to handle introductions. When I mentioned that to Bryce, he looked at me like I’d asked him how to defuse a bomb.
“She’s a toddler, not an FBI agent, El. Her limited vocabulary makes interrogations a breeze, anyway.”
Toddler or not, I was right to be wary of first-thing-in-the-morning introductions. Bryce brought Peyton to the couch where I was waiting for them, and she immediately tightened her grip on him and buried her face in his neck. It would’ve been a precious sight if not for the fact that it meant she was hiding from me.
“Baby, it’s okay. This is Elliot. You’ll like her, I promise,” he said gently. He tried to pry her arms away, but she wouldn’t have it.
I had no clue how to react.
Maybe if I sit really still she won’t feel threatened.
I immediately gave myself a mental face-palm.
She’s not a wild animal, Elliot.
“She’s not a fan of mornings. At least not until after she has some milk,” Bryce explained, rubbing her back. She peeked out from behind his neck, just long enough to meet my eyes for a second.
I offered her a smile, but all it seemed to do was scare her back into the crook of his neck. “I can relate. It usually takes me a cup or two of coffee or tea before I function properly.”
“See; you two already have something in common.”
He stood and set her down before walking into the kitchen. Naturally, she scurried after him and clung to his legs.
“Peyton,” he chided with a sigh.
“Dada up! Dada up!” she cried, slapping his thighs.
“Shi—oot,” he corrected quickly. “I forgot that I’m out of milk. And basically everything else. Guess we’re going out for breakfast. Wanna come?” He paused, long enough to make me look up and catch his smirk. “To breakfast?”
I narrowed my eyes but didn’t stop the smile stretching across my lips as I joined him in the kitchen. “You think you’re so cute, don’t you?”
“No, you think I’m cute.”
“Oh, you’re definitely something, McKnight.”
He picked Peyton back up, and this time she didn’t hide completely. She looked at me through her long lashes with reluctant curiosity.
I took this opportunity to catalog their similarities. Peyton’s eyes were a deep shade of green, but they were the same shape as her dad’s. Her nose was a miniature version of his, and they wore matching smiles.
She looked at Bryce and pressed her little hands against each of his cheeks. “Milk! Peas!”
Peas?
Oh. Please. Well that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. Cute enough to make something foreign pinch inside my chest.
He leaned in and brushed his nose against hers, making her giggle before bending to pick up the little pink blanket thing she'd dropped. “We don’t have any milk, baby girl. But look, here’s your pig!”
She grabbed it, a smile instantly lighting up her sweet face.
Bryce’s comment triggered a memory, and
suddenly Helen’s face flashed in my mind—eyes dilated and jaw clenched in annoyance.
“Milk isn’t cheap, Elliot. You can drink water or nothing at all.”
“But Mommy, Sophia—”
“Sophia is fine. You don’t hear her whining like an ungrateful little brat, do you?”
“El? Breakfast?” Bryce called. He shifted Peyton to his other arm, his brows wrinkling with concern, and for a second I thought he might question where my mind had gone.
Which would’ve been valid because…where the hell did that come from?
Nowhere good, that’s for sure.
“Bryce, I don’t know,” I answered, shifting my eyes to Peyton. “She’s not hiding from me anymore. Maybe we shouldn’t push our luck. Plus, I’m not exactly dressed for going out in public at the moment.”
He eyed my bare legs and smirked. “Good point. There’s a kolache shop a couple blocks away. How about you two stay here, and I’ll run to grab us some food.”
“You want to leave her with me? Alone?” I asked, eyes wide. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
He set Peyton down and closed the gap separating us, cupping my face in his hands. “El, it’ll be fine. I promise.” He leaned in and pressed his lips against mine for a quick kiss. “If you put on Frozen for her, you’ll probably become her favorite person. And I’ll be back in ten minutes. She might not even notice I’m gone.”
Ten minutes.
I could handle that.
I slung my arms around his waist and sighed. “Okay. But don’t forget the coffee. And make it a large.”
“You got it.” He turned and nodded toward Peyton where she stood, playing with her pretend grill. “I’m gonna duck out while she’s preoccupied. You got this.”
Peyton must have had a sixth sense about Bryce, because ten seconds after his car pulled out of the driveway, she looked around and immediately noticed his absence.
She ran around, calling for him, each plea more panic-filled than the last.
“It’s okay, Peyton, Daddy will be right back! He went to get food,” I explained, following behind her.
She stopped and stared at me, confusion written all over her sweet little face. In a flash, her confusion morphed back into panic, and she burst into tears.
Shit.
“How about we watch Frozen? I hear it’s your favorite.”
That got her attention.
She followed me back into the living room, and I quickly searched for the TV remote. Except…it was nowhere to be found.
I dug around in the crevices of the couch and looked under it. Pulled cushions off and kept searching. Nothing.
“Peyton, do you know where the remote is?” I asked, not really expecting an answer.
But I wasn’t expecting dead silence either.
I lifted my head up from under the coffee table and looked around. The second I realized she wasn’t in the room, I heard a clicking sound from the hallway.
“Peyton?” I shouted, desperately hoping for her to magically pop out from behind the couch.
I pushed off the ground like it had turned into lava and ran toward the hallway bathroom, panic crashing over me as soon as I realized what had happened.
Oh my god. No. Please don’t be in there.
I gripped the knob and twisted, but the door didn’t budge.
My mother’s voice echoed somewhere in the back of my mind. “I should’ve known you’d be nothing but a screw-up.”
I froze.
No.
I shoved that voice back into its box and knocked on the bathroom door. “Peyton? Are you in there?”
She didn’t respond, but a banging sound from inside told me she was there. The cabinets had childproof locks, but that didn’t stop me from panicking. Shit. What if Little Miss Houdini gets them open? Who knows what she’ll get into.
I tried the knob again. Definitely locked.
How the fuck did she lock the door?
I looked down and studied the lock. Maybe I can pick it. But I didn’t have any bobby pins and had no idea if that trick even worked.
I took a second to calm my racing heart so my voice didn’t relay my total panic. “Peyton, honey, I need you to come to the door and turn the lock.”
Right. Because she totally knows how to follow those instructions at the ripe age of twenty months old.
I ran into the living room and grabbed my phone.
Peyton babbled gibberish and pulled on the doorknob from inside the bathroom, and I got the feeling she was seconds away from a meltdown.
Bryce finally answered after six torturous rings. “Hey. Just ordered our food. What’s up?”
Words and tears poured out of me simultaneously. “Bryce, oh my god,” I wailed. “I’m so sorry! I turned around for one second to find the remote and now she’s locked in the bathroom and I can’t get her out! I’m sorry! You shouldn’t have trusted me!”
“El, whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. It’s okay. Take a breath,” he commanded.
“Bryce! How is this okay?” I screeched, not understanding how he could be so calm while I was freaking the hell out. “What if she swallows something or hurts herself?”
“El, there’s a key to the bathroom on top of the door frame.”
I immediately pushed up on my toes and ran my fingers along the frame. A small silver key tumbled to the ground.
“Oh my god. I feel like such an idiot,” I mumbled, sliding the key into the lock.
“You’re not an idiot, Uno. Just a little unpracticed.”
I pushed the door open and dropped the phone, sweeping a sobbing Peyton into my arms. She latched on to me like I was her hero, and I honestly wasn’t sure which one of us was more relieved.
With one arm hooked under Peyton, I picked the phone back up. “Okay, we’re good. Sorry. I guess I might have overreacted.”
“Don’t worry about it. Really. She’s stealthy as hell. I should’ve warned you.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Noted.”
A few minutes later, Bryce found us sprawled out in her room, reading a book about farm animals. He cleared his throat and held out her milk in one hand and my coffee in the other. Peyton shot out of my lap to run toward him.
Bryce scooped her up and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry she gave you such a scare,” he said, concern etched into his features.
I took the coffee and shrugged. “Nothing like a mini-heart attack to get the blood pumping before seven a.m.”
“If it helps, not every morning is this dramatic. Plus, it seems like it wasn’t all bad; she looked pretty cozy in your lap.”
“Yeah; I think it actually helped us bond in a weird, roundabout way.”
One silver lining of Peyton waking us up at the crack of dawn was that we finished breakfast and I still had an hour before I needed to be at work.
“Hey,” Bryce called from the kitchen. “There’s a ‘Boo at the Zoo’ Halloween thing tomorrow evening. Have you been before? I’m not sure how long Peyton will last, but I think she’d enjoy it. Want to come with us?”
“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been. I’d love to go with you guys.” I smiled, both at the thought of Peyton’s excitement at seeing the animals and at my own memories of time spent at the zoo as a kid. “As long as you promise not to get any crazy ideas. Last time we went to the zoo together, you spent a month trying to convince your parents to let you get a ball python.”
He laughed. “El, I was, what, twelve? Now I’m trying to hold off on pets for as long as possible considering this one will probably ask for a pig as soon as she’s speaking in complete sentences. Plus, there’s already a python in the house, and two’s a crowd.”
“Did you seriously just mention your daughter in one breath and your…c-o-c-k…the next?” I asked, dropping my voice.
He handed Peyton her sippy cup before walking over and sitting beside me on the couch. “She’s not even two; she has no idea what I was talking about. Did you seriously just
spell out the word cock? Because that was weirdly hot.”
He leaned in, kissed my neck, and I groaned.
“Bryce. I really do need to run home and shower. And Peyton is staring at us.” I tilted my head at her. She was sitting on her Frozen plastic ride-on car, munching on her crackers and watching us like a hawk.
He swiveled his head around to see Peyton’s scowl and sighed. “My daughter, the eternal c-o-c-k blocker.”
I couldn’t help but giggle, pushing against his chest to stand. “You poor, poor thing. I think you’ll survive.”
“Easy for you to say.” He stood and followed me to the laundry room. “In all seriousness, El, I’m sorry about last night, that things got…derailed. Again.”
“Don’t be. Maybe the third time’ll be the charm,” I quipped, pressing up on my toes to give him a quick peck. Before he got any ideas about taking things further, I pulled back and grabbed my purse then headed for the door. I turned back and gave Peyton a smile that morphed into a smirk when I looked at her dad. “Until then, I guess vibrator-Bryce will just have to do.”
I blew him a kiss and reached for the door handle.
“Really? You’re just going to give me that mental picture and leave?”
“Yeah, I think I am.”
“Game on, Uno,” he called, reaching for the back of his shirt as he made his way to the door. I froze and watched him pull it off in what felt like slow motion. Bryce and his ridiculously lickable abs came to a stop and leaned against the door frame. “Game. Fucking. On.”
Well that backfired in a big, WTF-was-I-thinking way.
* * *
When Bryce said ‘game on’ what he meant was ‘I’m going to torture you with visuals of my own.’
