by Isabel Jolie
Mason holds the door for me, Kara over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The moment I pass through the doorway, he closes the door, flips the lock, and wraps an arm around my waist to pull me in for a covert kiss while Kara hangs upside down. The soft press of his lips against mine sends tingles through my whole body. I press a light kiss to his neck and breathe in his earthy musk scent. Then I break away and dart behind him to take over tickling Kara until she’s squealing, “Stop! I can’t breathe!”
I place a soft kiss on her chubby cheek and head toward the kitchen, calling out, “Come on, girl. We’re gonna cook your daddy dinner.”
I’m at the kitchen counter unloading the groceries I bought when she catches up with me, her cheeks bright red and her dark pigtails sticking out from the side of her head. I pull one, and she giggles and reaches up, trying to grab the massive messy bun on the top of my head. I did blow out my hair in preparation for tonight, but somehow, my hair always ends up piled on the top of my head by the end of the day. I laugh and pick her up with one arm while dragging out a step stool I spy in the corner. I set it out and place her on it then tap her nose with my finger. “You’re gonna be my sous chef.”
Mason stands to the side, watching us, a goofy smile plastered on his face. Kara beams. “I’m gonna be the oo chef.”
I lift the wine bottle out of my bag and hand it to Mason to put him to work, then I set out the ingredients and help Kara measure and pour it all into a big mixing bowl. As we mix away, I ask Mason to boil the macaroni noodles. Within fifteen minutes, our mac and cheese is in the oven and we’re cleaning up the kitchen mess.
“All right, team. Hands in the air!” We high-five, and Kara leaps off the stool, cascading off the counter, and I catch her in mid-air and twirl her in the middle of the cozy kitchen. “What are you doing, little one? You don’t hurl yourself into the air.” I set the giggling handful onto the floor, and we all high-five again.
Mason’s hand rests on my hip then dips slightly lower and squeezes my ass. “You two head into the den. I’ll be in with our drinks, and then we can play a game.”
Kara opens her mouth wide and gasps, “Candyland!” With big eyes, she asks, “Have you played Candyland, Deelah?” She scrambles from my clutches to the floor and drags me into the den, eager to play.
We spin our way through two loops on the Candyland board before the oven buzzer sounds, and I jump up to check on our cheesy concoction and roll the sausages in the oven. Kara and Mason busy themselves with setting the table.
I show Mason and Kara the champagne flute I brought for her, and her mouth drops open. “So pretty!” she exclaims. “Can I use it, Daddy?”
Mason grins down at her before answering my questioning glance. I drank from these as a kid, and they’re plastic. “She usually has to use what we call sippy cups. Or cups with lids.” He pours a small amount into the bottom of the flute and guides her back into the main room with the kitchen table. I hear him say, “I need you to be very careful with this, okay?”
“Pomise, Daddy.”
I’m opening cabinets searching for a platter for the sausages when Mason comes up behind me and places kisses on my neck. Chills create goosebumps all up and down my arms, and I squeeze my thighs together, attempting to keep the sensations in check. He twists me around and lifts me up on the counter and steps forward between my legs. Then his mouth is on mine, and our tongues are colliding, and he’s grinding into me. I forget everything, my mind gone, lost in the physical sensations, until he takes a step back and holds me in place on the counter as if I am the dangerous one.
His chest heaves as he breathes out, “She goes to bed soon. Thirty minutes.” He says it low, as if he’s talking to himself. Then he holds his hand out, helps me off the counter, opens a cabinet, and pulls out a platter for the sausages. He stares at me like I’m dinner, and yeah, it’s not sexy at all, but his hungry, dark stare brings out my giggles.
When we enter the great room, each of us carrying a steaming dish of food, Kara sits at her spot in a raised chair, a smile on her face as she glances between us and her big girl glass. She doesn’t say a word, but pride the adult glass remains upright shimmers around her.
I scoop a pile of mac and cheese on her plate, and her mouth opens into a little ‘O.’ “Dat’s a lot!” I look to Mason, wondering if I messed up again somehow.
He chuckles and spears a sausage and deposits it on her plate. As he cuts it up into incredibly tiny pieces, he says, “You don’t have to eat all of it, sweetie. Only eat what you want.” Then he glances up to me, a bit of a smirk on his face. “I’ll eat whatever you don’t, baby girl.”
She nods as if that makes complete and total sense. She’s only four. Of course, she needs a smaller portion. I’m such a dumbnut. He probably tells her she has to eat everything on her plate or some other grown-up nonsense. I can hear my Mom’s voice in my head, ‘Delilah, if you want dessert, you need to finish what’s on your plate.’ Dessert. I remembered sparkling wine but didn’t remember dessert. Oh, sugar. I may have rocked it as a camp counselor, but my little kid skills need dusting off.
Mason’s hand covers mine. “It’s the best meal I’ve had in a long time. Thank you.” He shifts his gaze to his daughter, and she beams, pride and love flowing. She bestows her huge smile on me, and I fight to control the urge to reach out and pinch those chubby, angelic cheeks. They are just so freaking squeezable.
“Can you come tomorrow night too?” she asks in a high-pitched begging voice.
I lean in to pop a kiss on her cheek. I can’t help it. Her chubby pink face draws me in. It’s yummier than candy.
“Maybe?” I glance at Mason, looking for him to take the lead on this one.
He returns my gaze then raps the table with his knuckle to gain Kara’s attention. He bends down slightly so he’s closer to her eye level. “Tomorrow night, you’re going on a playdate, remember? You’ll be with your mommy. Without me?” He’s studying her, and his brow wrinkles.
Her eyes sparkle. “My sleepover.” She aims her bright smile at me. “It’s my first sleepover!” The lines on Mason’s forehead relax, and he nods his agreement.
He grins as he glances between the two of us. “If Delilah will agree, while you’re at your sleepover, I’d like to take her out to dinner since she’s been so nice to cook for us.” He looks over to me, and as our eyes meet over her head, adds, “If she’s free?” My insides whirl, and my cheeks burn from the constant smile on my face. Gah. Is there anything sexier than a single dad? A single dad veterinarian with dark hair, enigmatic eyes, and earthy good vibes to boot?
“As luck would have it, I am available tomorrow night.” I chew on the corner of my lip, playing with it, as I sit, mesmerized by those eyes. For a moment, the art-filled walls slip from view, and all I see is him.
Then Kara’s bubbly voice breaks through. “But you won’t play games without me, right? Can you play with me dis weekend? When will Mommy bring me home, Daddy?”
“We’re gonna play it by ear, pumpkin, remember? If you want to come home, you’ll come home Saturday. If you’re having fun, then we’ll make it a double sleepover and you’ll come home Sunday.”
Kara reaches out and clutches my index finger. “Can you play Sunday?”
“Of course! Maybe I’ll bring my yoga mat over, and we can go to the park and do yoga together.”
“Yoga?” she asks with a skeptical squint.
“Yeah. I’ll teach you. Oh, girlie, you’re gonna love it. Trust me.”
“I play soccer.” Her eyes go big as she proceeds to tell me about her soccer team and how she scored last weekend. Mason pulls out his phone and shows me photos. There are hundreds of photos, and while it’s impossible to tell because they’re in uniform, I’d bet all those photos are from one game. She’s as cute as can be in her royal blue jersey that almost comes to her knees and her pink shin guards and knee-high socks.
In less than ten minutes, Kara declares herself done, and even though my glass is st
ill almost full of wine, Mason jumps up and carries her down the hall to run the bath. I’ve eaten enough, but the speedy dinner has my head spinning. I leave our wine glasses on the table while I clear the dishes and tidy up in the kitchen. My phone vibrates. It’s Mom calling once again. I hit decline. She would not be happy if she knew I’m here.
When I have everything stowed in the dishwasher and the counter wiped down, I step out into the main hall and spy Mason carrying a toweled-up, giggling burrito into her bedroom. I fall in step behind them and stand in the doorway as Mason rolls open the towel and blows air bubbles all over her belly. Her laughter rings through the room intermixed with, “Daddy, stop!” and “Stop it!” followed by, “Stop!” and then, “I can’t breathe!” She’s laughing so hard, and the precious sound has me wrapping my arms around myself as my cheek muscles incinerate from my too-wide smile.
After pajamas are on, Mason tucks her in then sits to her side on the bed. She taps the other side of her narrow twin bed and says, “Come read.”
I join them, taking the vacant side of Kara, so Mason and I create a Kara sandwich. His arm goes behind her, and he fondles my shoulder discreetly behind Kara’s head. We each take turns reading. She studies each page and sometimes runs a finger over the picture or the words, while Mason and I steal glances over her head. As we read, her eyelids droop, and our words are said more softly until we whisper. Mason lifts the book from her lap and tucks her in. His hand goes to my chin, and leaning over Kara’s sleeping form, he places a soft kiss to my lips then we tiptoe out of her bedroom.
He pulls the wooden door closed, taking care to be as quiet as possible, and my gaze once again falls to the two-inch gap below the door. His bedroom door stands directly beside hers, with yet another two-inch gap. Why on Earth did he pick an apartment with his bedroom so close to hers?
The proximity doesn’t seem to be what’s on his mind. He pulls me into his bedroom, where he slowly closes his door with as much care as he closed hers, then he flips the lock. His eyes darken as he guides me backward to the bed. He caresses my backside, cupping the curve of my ass.
“This dress.” He snatches the hem, lifts it up my body, over my head, and tosses it to the floor.
I stand before him in a white lace bra and matching thong. He blinks as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. His awestruck expression does all kinds of good things to my insides. I lift my hands to my hair and undo the bun, letting my hair spill down my back. In that moment, under his yearning gaze, I feel alluring and sexy. So often, I round my shoulders to suppress the bulge of my breasts, a habit since middle school, but this time, instead of shame, I revel in knowing that at this moment this man appreciates not only my body, but also me. His bold, hungry gaze fuels my confidence as I reach behind to unsnap my bra then shift to let it drop slowly to the floor.
He swallows as my fingers trace the scruff lining his jaw. I hear him exhale, and in a low strangled voice, he says, “You are so beautiful.”
Cool air surrounds my bare nipples as they harden. He feathers his fingers down my shoulder and across my breast then flicks his thumb across the peak of my nipple. I shudder, relishing his rough, warm fingers on my sensitive skin.
A soft tap sounds on the door. We both freeze. “Daddy, I’m thirsty.”
Mason swallows as he caresses my breast, and he calls, “Just a minute.” Then he whispers in my ear, “Do not get dressed.” He crosses the room in broad steps then pauses with his hand on the doorknob as he glances back. I unfreeze and pick my sundress up off the floor and hold it to my chest then slide against the wall, so he can open the door while I remain unseen, assuming she doesn’t enter.
He twists the knob and uses his body to shield Kara’s view as he closes the door behind him. Nothing suspicious about that at all. He’s lucky. Well, we’re lucky she’s four and not thinking through Daddy’s weird behavior.
I climb onto his bed and shift his pillows against the headboard so I can rest my back, clutching the sundress over my breasts self-consciously, fully aware I’m in my panties sitting on a man’s bed while he puts his daughter back to sleep in the next room. The whole situation is a bit naughty, and I caress my breasts as I wait. My center throbs with need. I spread my legs and use my fingers over the apex of my thighs, the slight pressure over my clit sending familiar sensations through all my girly parts. I usually masturbate in private on my belly for better pressure. But right now, I’m picturing him walking in on me, lying on my back in full view, bringing myself to climax.
The crotch of my panties is damp. I apply pressure with my thumb, while my finger flits inside, playing along the soft, smooth slickness. The doorknob rotates, and I leave my right hand in my panties but use my left to pull back the sundress.
When the door opens, I’m leaning against the headboard, legs pressed together, wearing only my lacy white panties, and my hand in the cookie jar, so to speak. Mason stands in the doorway, stupefied. I roll my hips against the pressure, and he springs to action. He closes the door, reaches for a basket of laundry, and dumps all the clothes against the bottom of the door, locks it, and then basically leaps onto the bed.
His lips find mine, hungry and possessive. I am bare, open to him with the exception of a thin strip of fabric. He’s fully clothed, an issue I plan to resolve, pronto. I need his clothes gone, his skin against mine. I yank the hem of his t-shirt and pull it up. He breaks from our kiss long enough to rip it off and throw it. My hands shift to his belt and jeans as he takes over, shoving the pants and boxers to the floor. He stands before me, naked. It’s impossible to not admire the lines of his pecs over his sculpted, toned abs. The dark hairs trailing down to his swollen, waiting erection. I reach out, my thumb circling the tip, smearing the juice already there, and, with my gaze locked on his, I raise my thumb to my mouth and suck.
Within seconds I’m pressed against the back of the bed. His body covers mine as his mouth claims me, our hands frantically searching and grabbing as I shift to center him between my legs. His head drops to my breasts, lavishing attention on each nipple, suckling and twirling his tongue as I arch into him.
He growls, “My God, I love this body.” I could say the same of his lean, muscular form. He continues sliding down, kissing and licking, until his tongue dips inside, setting me off, and I cry out, overwhelmed with ecstasy as his palm falls over my mouth. “Shhhhh. You’ve got to be quiet, baby.”
“I want you. In me. Now,” I gasp.
He trails kisses between my breasts and down my stomach. “No. I want you coming on my mouth.” He dips his head and lets that magic tongue free, sucking on my clit as his long finger joins in, and I detonate. My toes curl, and I reach for the pillow on his bed to cover my mouth as I close my eyes to see bright yellow spots behind my lids.
He reaches past me, and I hear a drawer opening, then a rip. He lifts the pillow from my face and lowers to kiss me, our tongues colliding and dancing as he hovers over me, between my legs. I taste myself mixed with him, and I dive in, loving the moment.
In one thrust, he enters me, and we both moan, then it’s my turn to say, “Ssshhhhh.”
He growls. “Fuck you feel good. So warm. Tight. Perfect.”
“You. Too.” I thrust up with my hips as I push him to the side. He understands and flips onto his back as he reaches for his cock to re-enter me, letting me ride him the way I want, the way I need.
His hands glide up my stomach to my breasts. “So beautiful.”
“And you. So sexy.” I angle my hips until he’s ramming against my cervix. “Your cock.”
He gasps a questioning, “Yeah?”
“I really, really like it.”
He grips my hips and slams up into me. “Really likes you too.”
My fingers press against my clit as I ride him to my second orgasm, then he flips me once more and thrusts so hard that the headboard hits the wall. I giggle and repeat a “ssshhhh” as he slides out of me and picks me up. The next thing I know, I’m on the floor and he’s deep i
nside, thrusting, chasing his release. His hand dips down, pressing against my clit, mimicking my actions from earlier as he pounds, his movements becoming erratic, and within moments, my legs are shaking as I arch up, my muscles quaking as my cosmos spins out of control. He collapses onto me, sweat covering his torso and dripping down his forehead. I wrap my arms and legs around him, holding him tight.
He pulls back slightly so we can kiss. A slow, deep kiss. My fingers run through his hair and down his arms and back. “I love doing that with you.”
He whispers back, a slight sound so subtle the breeze sends chills across my entire body. “Ditto.” Minutes pass before he asks, “Shower with me.”
I nod my agreement as he picks up a towel from a stack of towels on a nearby chair and wraps one around me. Then he wraps a towel around his waist and reaches into his bedside drawer and fists a handful of condoms.
I squint and wrinkle my nose, a silent question.
“I went shopping.” He’s wearing his perma-grin as he tracks through the apartment to the bathroom on the opposite end.
It turns out we did need them. Not in the shower, as we did other intimate things, but later, quietly in the kitchen as we replenished our wine glasses, and then a final time in the bedroom, much later in the night, this time below the comforter.
I set my phone alarm for 5:00 a.m. and was out the door, unobserved by Kara, when the city still lay covered in darkness. What a perfect night. The way he looks at me, holds me, and—blast it all—the way I feel around him, I’d have to have my head up my ass to not see this is growing into something. I’m a fizzy, bubbly, whirry mess. And then there’s the rub. I’m going to have to say goodbye.
One day, not today. This is all new. I simply need to enjoy it. There’s no point in focusing on where this is going. In that alternate universe, where I stayed here, I’d still need to focus on the now. It’s a day by day thing. And everyone knows the quickest way to kill a budding relationship is to focus too much on where it’s going.
