Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
She hummed happily and made a complete mess of herself, and then the ice cream face followed. She froze up; her eyebrows lifted, her mouth formed a little “o,” and then her whole face scrunched together. But evidently it was worth it, because my girl fucking loved ice cream.
“Is it too cold?” I asked.
“Ba-ba!” she babbled.
I chuckled and retrieved a packet of wipes from her stroller.
I extended the cone again as the vanilla trickled down my fingers. “Do you want more ice cream, Grace?”
She nodded and made another dive.
At the same time, my phone buzzed on the table, and I saw it was a message from Pipsqueak.
The Brazilian didn’t hurt as much as I feared it would. I wonder if you’ll like it! I just had to try it.
I closed my eyes briefly. The phone landed on the table, and I pinched the bridge of my nose. She wondered if I’d like it? To be fair, I’d had no preference before. Much like kissing, oral—both giving and receiving—had always been too intimate for me, something I’d endured only in my marriage. But I’d spent a few hours with my head between Pipsqueak’s legs since then… She didn’t have much hair to begin with, so I couldn’t say I’d given it a single thought. I already thought she was perfectly smooth. Fuck, I couldn’t get the image out of my head now. I’d have to inspect her properly. With my tongue.
“I reckon it’s time to go home, love,” I said, clearing my throat. “You can help Daddy prepare dinner. Pipsqueak is coming over.”
“Dadaaa!” Grace shook the bars on the gate in the kitchen.
“No, you’ll stay here while we eat, baby,” I told her. She’d already eaten, but she would have to settle for crawling around in the kitchen until we were done here. “Come here and play with your train.” I nudged it out from under the table for her.
I’d like to think I’d charmed Elise with the one meal I excelled at that had nothing to do with barbecuing, which was a potato and bacon casserole with sour cream, green onions, and a shit-ton of shredded cheese. Before she’d come along and taken over my kitchen, I’d made this dish at least twice a week. Then, at some point, she’d started creating more than just her chocolate treats. Not only did she make dinner for me sometimes, but she helped me make baby food for Grace.
“Okay, I think I’m done,” she announced and put down her pen. “You just have to help me narrow down The Mister Collection. They sold well last year, but I think four will be too many, so give me your three favorites.”
That would be tough.
Pipsqueak shoveled some food into her mouth while she waited for my response.
“The original Mister is a given,” I said pensively. “And the one with coffee.”
She bobbed her head and jotted it down.
Would she poke fun at my third choice? Oh, probably. I’d teased her too much about levels of sweetness to get off scot-free now.
I cleared my throat and gathered the last of my food onto my fork. “I really enjoyed the white chocolate one with blueberry rum and brown sugar.”
Her head snapped up, and I steeled myself.
She narrowed her eyes. “But that one’s sweet.”
I suppressed a sigh. “I didn’t say I wanted to eat it every day, did I?”
Her mouth twitched, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You know, when I made the first batch of those, six pieces went missing.”
Well, fuck. I dropped my gaze to my plate and found a bit of melted cheese very interesting to investigate. “I didn’t know you counted them,” I informed her. “That’s good to know.”
Pipsqueak giggled and left her seat. “You’re too funny sometimes, Mister.” She joined my side of the table and nudged me with her knee, so I took the hint and scooted out. “Hi.” She plopped down sideways across my lap and draped an arm around my shoulders.
“Hi.” I chuckled and stroked her thigh. “Will you forgive my thievery?”
She nodded and leaned in to kiss me.
Seeing as Grace was in the middle of a serious conversation with her toy train, I figured I could steal a quick minute with the other girl in my life who liked to drive me bonkers.
“I told myself to behave throughout dinner,” she confessed. “Dinner’s over.”
I shuddered and cupped the back of her neck as I angled for a deeper kiss. “I told myself to behave until that little monkey over there had gone to bed.” I’d also told myself not to ask if I could see her waxed pussy until later tonight… “I need a quick look,” I whispered.
She knew what I was referring to, and she lifted her little tank dress for me.
I pinched the thin waistband of her panties and peered down between her legs. Fucking hell. Completely bare. Unable to help myself, I drew a finger along the smooth slit, eliciting a shiver from her.