by Keeland, Vi
Sadie rested her chin in her hands. “And?”
“It’s really, really good!”
Sadie began to dance around in celebration. We high-fived each other. Birdie started giggling and proceeded to drink down a good portion of the smoothie.
Sadie poured some of the drink into another glass and handed it to me. “Something tells me even your dad can make this.”
I took a sip and licked my lips. “Mm. Really good.” I was sure she could tell from the look in my eyes that I wasn’t exactly thinking of the shake when I’d made that sound. Although I had to say, the drink definitely didn’t taste anything like spinach.
I looked over at the clock. It was late for my daughter to be up. “Birdie, it’s way past your bedtime, and you have school tomorrow. How about you go get washed up, then come back and say good night to Sadie.”
She looked disappointed to see this night coming to an end. I hoped there would be many more like it.
When Birdie finally disappeared down the hall, I wrapped my hand around Sadie’s waist and pulled her in for the kiss that I’d been so incredibly hungry for all night. She moaned into my mouth, and that was confirmation that she’d wanted it as much as I did.
Pulling her into me, I bit her bottom lip and slowly released it. “You are so fucking delicious, you know that?”
“Oh my,” she said, clearly noticing the growing bulge in my pants. “Wow. You’d better get that down before your daughter comes out to say good night.”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “This isn’t exactly a scenario I’m used to.”
Figuring it was a good idea to heed her warning, I took a walk down the hall and used the bathroom for a breather.
When I returned, Birdie was standing in the kitchen in her nightgown, her hair wet, looking up at Sadie.
“Can you braid my hair before bed, Sadie?”
Sadie looked over at me, seeming to want permission. I nodded.
“Sure. Let’s do it,” she said.
Sadie disappeared down the hall to Birdie’s room and was gone much longer than I expected. When she came back out, I was waiting for her on the living room couch.
“That was a long braiding session.”
Sadie sat down next to me and laid her head on my shoulder. “She’s so cute. She just wanted to talk.”
“Thank you for being so sweet to her.” I kissed the top of her head. “You want some wine? What can I get you?”
“No. I’m good. I just want to lie here in your arms for a while if that’s okay.”
I adjusted my body so that she was completely enveloped in my arms. “That’s more than okay.”
After a long while, she raised her chin up to me and I took that as a cue to plant a long kiss on her lips. My dick rose to attention. I was horny as hell tonight but knew she wouldn’t agree to spend the night even if I suggested it. This was a complicated situation. I knew she shouldn’t spend the night, but I wasn’t ready to let her go, either. As I thrust my tongue inside her mouth, her familiar taste ignited a need so intense that I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to stop. When she moaned this time, I wondered if she was as wet as I was hard. The strongest temptation to slip my finger inside her panties to check consumed me.
“This is painful. I need to be inside you,” I muttered over her mouth. “It feels like it’s been forever.”
I wondered if there was a way we could sneak into the bathroom, anywhere. I just needed her.
Sadie must have sensed that I was spiraling, because she pulled back from our kiss. “I’d better get going.”
I let out a frustrated groan. “You know how much I don’t want you to leave, right?”
“Of course, I know that. But it’s better if I do.” She stood up.
I wrapped my hands around her cheeks. “I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about you.” My eyeballs moved from side to side as the wheels in my head turned.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“I’m trying to scheme a way for you to be in my bed tonight and disappear magically by morning.”
“Except that’s not possible. It’s way too soon to risk anything. So I’m gonna go.”
She was right. It just felt wrong to let her go for some reason. She felt like she belonged here.
I ended up calling her an Uber, and we spent every second until it arrived kissing like two horny teenagers.
After she got in the car and took off, she sent me a text.
Sadie: I forgot to clean up the green monster remnants. I meant to go back into the kitchen and do that.
Sebastian: The real monster is in my pants, and he’s not able to be tamed tonight.
Sadie: LOL
Sebastian: No worries about the shake. I got it. I owe you for getting my daughter to eat vegetables. Seriously, that was some magical shit.
Sadie: I was so happy she liked it.
Sebastian: She likes YOU.
Sadie: That makes me so happy.
Sebastian: I might like you, too. A LOT.
Sadie: I like you, too, Sebastian. I might even be crazy about you.
Sebastian: I have a new story idea for you.
Sadie: Yeah?
Sebastian: Dating the Horny Single Dad.
Sadie: LOL. What does this assignment entail?
Sebastian: Several meetups in the afternoons at various places and lots of sex. You in?
Sadie: Definitely.
Monday morning, I still couldn’t stop thinking about Sadie. So I decided to push what I’d mentioned last night about a daytime meetup.
Sebastian: Good morning. How did you sleep?
Sadie: Pretty good. I had a nice dream. You might’ve been in it.
I caught myself with a gigantic smile on my face as I went to text back.
Sebastian: What time do you go to lunch? Maybe I can swing by and take you out and you can tell me about that dream.
Sadie: That sounds great. Except . . .
My shoulders slumped waiting for what would come after the word “except.” I assumed it would be something like “except . . . I can’t because I have too much work to do.” Or . . . “except I have a meeting.” But the next text perked me up . . . some parts might’ve gotten more perky than others.
Sadie: How about you meet me at my apartment at 2, and I do better than tell you about my dream. We can act it out . . .
Fuck yeah. I couldn’t type back fast enough.
Sebastian: I’ll be out front of your building at 1:45.
Sadie: LOL. I like your eagerness, Mr. Maxwell.
Sebastian: Oh, I’m eager, alright. You should see what’s going on in my pants already . . . with more than five hours to go before I arrive.
Sadie: You could . . . show me what’s going on.
All the blood from my brain had rushed south with better shit to do than support logical decisions. So of course, it sounded like a damn good idea to oblige. Reaching down, I fisted my hard-on through my sweatpants, then snapped a pic and sent it in response to her text. Maybe it was the angle, but my cock looked pretty damn impressive, if I did say so myself.
Sadie wasted no time responding.
Sadie: OMG. Lunch looks delicious! I can’t wait. Let’s make it 1pm, instead of 2!
I laughed.
Sebastian: See you at 1, beautiful. Can’t wait.
CHAPTER 22
SADIE
“I love this little dip.”
Sebastian ran his finger up and down the arch between my lower back and the top of my ass as I lay on my stomach. We’d just ravaged each other, yet the slightest touch of his finger on my back had me already wanting him again.
“Oh yeah?”
He nodded. “Would it be too much if I poured the soup I brought with lunch and drank it out of there?”
I laughed. “Well, it might be hot, and I don’t think you would be drinking it out of the dip in my back, more like lapping like a dog.”
“Sweetheart, that soup is ice-cold by now. And lapping at you sounds abso
lutely fucking perfect.”
He was definitely right about the soup not being hot anymore. Now I was glad that I’d told my office I needed to take a half day for a fake doctor’s appointment. We’d been at it for close to two hours already, and the Chinese food that Sebastian had brought hadn’t even made it out of the bag.
As if that thought reminded my body that it had skipped breakfast, my stomach growled . . . loudly.
Sebastian chuckled. “I guess that’s one way of you telling me I should feed you.”
“I’m actually starving. I usually eat a bar in the morning on the train, but some guy bumped into me and it fell on the floor after one bite.”
“Why don’t I go heat the food up, then?”
“Okay.”
Sebastian got out of bed. He bent to grab his jeans, giving me a spectacular view of his very taut ass.
“Wait!”
He froze with one leg in the pants and turned to look at me.
“Don’t get dressed,” I said.
He flashed a crooked smile. “You want to eat naked?”
“Yeah. I do. Would it gross you out if I said I wanted to eat naked in bed with you?”
Sebastian chuckled. “No. But it might make me propose.”
He kicked back off the pants leg and strutted out to the kitchen buck naked.
What a view. I sighed. Feeling content, I adjusted the blankets and pillows to sit up against the headboard.
A few minutes later, Sebastian returned with three containers and two sets of chopsticks. He climbed back into bed and passed me one of the cartons, then unwrapped the wooden chopsticks and snapped them apart before offering them to me.
“Thank you.”
His eye dropped down to my exposed breasts and he shook his head. “Best fucking lunch ever.”
I stuffed my face with Szechuan shrimp. “Mm. This is good. Where did you get it?”
“This little takeout place two blocks from me.”
“I’m very picky about Chinese food. It’s probably because I’m part Chinese.”
Sebastian was midswallow and started to cough. “You’re Chinese?”
“Four percent. I did one of those 23andMe DNA tests to find out my heritage two years ago, since I’m adopted. I’m sixty percent Italian, thirty-six percent Norwegian, and four percent Chinese. Ever since I found that out, I feel like I got better with chopsticks.”
He laughed. “Interesting. My daughter is obsessed with those damn commercials ever since she made a family tree at school.”
“I totally forgot about that! She told Santa she wanted one of those in her early letters.”
Sebastian shook his head.
“What about you? What nationality are you?”
“My grandparents were from Sicily on my dad’s side, and my mother was Welsh.” Sebastian fished a piece of sesame chicken from his cardboard container and went to put it into his mouth. Halfway there, he fumbled, and the chicken landed on his abs. He picked it off using his chopsticks. “Must be because I’m not four percent Chinese.”
I smiled. “Do you sing in the shower?”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “That’s an odd question to ask.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. But I think people’s shower habits tell a lot about them. Like if you’re in and out in five minutes, racing through the washing to get done, or whether you take your time and use your shampoo bottle as a mic when the mood strikes.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever used the shampoo bottle as a microphone. But I definitely whistle sometimes.” His face fell. “At least I used to.”
I set my container on the nightstand and then plucked Sebastian’s from his hands and placed his lunch next to mine. Crawling over, I straddled his lap. “I think we can get you back to whistling in the shower.”
He brushed hair from my face. “I think so, too. You make me feel happier than I have in a long time, Gretchen.”
I rubbed my nose with his. “Danke.”
It was another half hour before Sebastian and I got back to the Chinese food. We were just destined to eat it cold. But I couldn’t care less. Playing cowgirl on my handsome boyfriend’s lap beat warm food any day of the week.
After, we showered together, and Sebastian had to get ready to leave for the restaurant.
“What are you doing tonight?” He kissed the top of my head while I sat at my vanity brushing out my wet hair. “Any plans?”
“Actually, I have a hot date.”
I watched Sebastian’s face fall in the mirror. Shit.
“Gah! It’s not what you’re thinking. I meant I was going out to dinner with my dad.”
He squinted at my reflection in the mirror. “Not funny. Considering your job.”
I stood and pushed up on my tippy-toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
He finished buttoning his shirt. “Where are you going for dinner?”
“I’m not sure. We usually decide when he gets here.”
“Why don’t you come to the restaurant?”
I blinked a few times. “Really? You wouldn’t mind meeting my dad?”
Sebastian shrugged. “Why would I mind? You’re already one of my daughter’s favorite people.”
Warmth spread throughout my chest. Being with a mature man really made the men I’d dated over the last—oh, I don’t know—ten years seem like such little boys. Sebastian wasn’t afraid to meet my family and had welcomed me into his once he gave in to his feelings.
“I’d love that. I’ll have to see if Dad already had his heart set on something else. But maybe we’ll come.”
“Sounds good.”
I walked Sebastian to the door. “Thanks for . . . lunch.”
He kissed me one more time, then grazed his thumb along my bottom lip. “Thanks for not giving up on me when you probably should’ve.”
“So you’re serious about this guy?”
Dad picked up the folded napkin from the table and shook it out, laying it across his lap.
I looked over his shoulder. Sebastian had just gone to get us a bottle of wine from the bar. He winked from the other side of the room when he caught me watching him. I smiled and sighed. “I’m crazy about him, Dad.”
“Then I guess I better get to know the fellow a little bit.”
On the way to the restaurant, I’d filled Dad in on some of the story behind Sebastian and my getting together. He hadn’t actually said much, so I wasn’t sure what he was thinking. But that was Dad’s way. Sometimes I would swear he wasn’t even paying attention when I talked. Then a few weeks later, he’d surprise me by asking a follow-up question to some minor thing I’d casually mentioned. Dad was a listener more than a talker.
Sebastian came back with a bottle of merlot and opened it table-side.
Dad glanced around. “It’s pretty busy. Think you’ll have time to join us? I’d like to get to know the man who my daughter is spending time with. How old are you?”
“Dad,” I scolded. “Sebastian is working.”
Sebastian waved me off with an easy smile. “I’m just going to check on things in the kitchen and put in an order for you, and then I should have some time.” He turned to my dad. “Is there anything you don’t like to eat or are allergic to?”
My dad patted the little belly he’d developed over the last few years. “Does it look like there’s much I don’t eat?”
“Okay. Give me about ten minutes. When I come back, I’m all yours to interrogate, sir.”
My father seemed to like that response, but I was embarrassed. As soon as Sebastian walked away, I said, “Dad, what the heck?”
“What?”
“Sebastian invited us here and is going out of his way and you say, ‘Hey, nice to meet you . . . how old are you?’ What does it matter how old he is?”
“You said you’re crazy about him. So I want to get to know the man.”
“There’s a difference between getting to know someone and being rude.”
Dad took a breadsti
ck from the center of the table and broke it in two. “You’re involved with a man with a lot of baggage. A widower, a ten-year-old daughter, running this place . . . I read eighty percent of all restaurants fail within five years. I’m just concerned, sweetheart.”
I sighed. I suppose it was only natural for a parent to be concerned about his daughter dating a man who’d already been married, especially one with a daughter. It made sense that he would see Sebastian’s daughter as baggage, though I was certain that would change when he met Birdie.
“Okay. I get it. Just . . . be nice about it, please. Go slow.”
Fifteen minutes later, Sebastian appeared at our table balancing four different plates. He set them down and then took a seat himself.
“We make the mozzarella fresh daily. It’s our best-selling appetizer.” He pointed to the other plates one at a time. “I also brought out salami-and-fig crostini with ricotta, homemade rice balls, and mini eggplant rollatine.”
Not only did everything smell good but the presentation was gorgeous . . . drizzled dressing and decorative garnishes almost made it too pretty to eat. “Wow. Everything looks amazing.”
Sebastian smiled. “I can’t take credit for it. It’s all the chef’s doing. Though I might’ve threatened to fire him if these plates weren’t perfect.”
The three of us dug in, and Sebastian took my father head-on.
“So, Mr. Bisset, to get back to your question, I’m thirty-six, seven years older than your daughter. I married my college sweetheart at twenty-three and she passed away four years ago. My daughter, Birdie, is ten. I own a brownstone on the Upper West Side but only live in part of it. I rent the other half, even though I don’t have to because the restaurant actually does quite well, but my daughter and I don’t need all the space.”
My father smiled sadly. “I’m sorry about your loss.”
“Thank you.”
“Pretty big coincidence that you and my daughter both lost someone to the exact same type of cancer.”
Sebastian nodded. “I’m sorry about your loss, too, Mr. Bisset.”
“It’s George, please.”
Sebastian looked over at me. “But yeah, there are a lot of things that Sadie and I have in common. I think that’s one of the things that made us grow close so easily.” He extended his hand for me to take, and I happily clasped mine with his.
