Her body is writhing on top of mine, pushing into my hands, craving more—more touch, more sensation, more me. And I fucking love it.
“Please,” she whispers in between driving her tongue into my mouth and gasping. “Please … I need…”
“What do you need, darlin’? Do you want my fingers inside of you?” I ask, reveling in the sight of her teetering on the edge. She only needs a gentle flick from me to fall over.
“No,” she cries between gasps. “No.”
“You don’t want me to make you come?”
“No, I want you,” she says, and she grinds her ass into my cock.
Aw, hell! Pig shit. Butt boils. Fried bull testicles. Fuck, it’s not even working!
“Not today, Celia. You’re not ready for my cock quite yet,” I say with a strained voice and a dick that’s crying out in agony, seconds away from disowning my stupid ass.
I lick her lower lip and trail kisses and licks down her neck as my hands move down her body and then up her thighs. As my hand grazes over her center, I slap her clit with enough force to sting and sink my teeth into her neck, making her cry out as she takes the leap. My fingers plunge inside her contracting pussy, coaxing her body to ride her orgasm to completion.
When her body relaxes and she falls back into my chest in complete exhaustion, I close my legs and turn her body around, cradling her like a baby. She rests her head on my shoulder and sighs with a contented smile playing on her lips. I can’t help it; I feel like the master of the universe.
“Did everything I do feel good to you?” I ask as I brush her hair out of her face, behind her ear, and gently kiss her forehead.
“Mmmhmm,” she mumbles sleepily.
I gently slide her off my lap and sit her on the couch. I kneel on the floor between her legs, fixing her bra, buttoning each shirt button, and searching for her panties and skirt on the floor.
“Up,” I say as I pull them both up her legs, and she lifts her ass so I can slide them back on. I stay close, face to face, eye to eye. I want her to hear, understand, and take in every word I say. “There is nothing in this world I want more than to be buried deep inside you. Not. One. Thing. But when I take you, I want to know I’m all you see. No memories, no regrets, no one but you and me. I want you to be all mine, Celia, and when you can do that, that’s when you get all of me. Okay?”
Her eyes fill with tears, and she nods slowly. “All right,” she whispers as she breaks eye contact and stares into her lap. It breaks my heart to end things on a sad note, and I refuse to leave her feeling weepy.
I tap my finger under her chin and nudge her face upward. I wink and get a watery smile in return. “I’m no duke, Celia Lemaire, but let me tell you one thing,” I say as I kiss her nose lightly. “I’m your ass-slapping, clit-tapping, wet dream, and damn it, one of these days you’re gonna fall in love with me.”
And with those parting words, I stand up and walk through the living room and out the front door with a singular destination in mind. I hear her giggling behind me, and I know I’ve done my job. I chance once last look at my fairy before I close the door, skin flushed from head to toe, feet dangling awkwardly, and her finger touching her lips in wonder.
I close the door and make my way down the front steps as quickly as I my legs will carry me—yes, all three of them. Of course, Adam happens to be outside with the kids this afternoon. Just my luck.
“Hey, man, you need some help getting those tiles inside,” Adam calls out as he walks my way.
I throw my hand up in protest and keep moving to my truck. “Nope. Later. Gotta go.”
“Dude, don’t you wanna unload that shit? Come on, I’ll help you.”
I fumble with my keys and keep my head down as I unlock the door. “Somewhere to be,” I reply in a clipped tone.
“What the hell is so important it can’t wait for ten minutes, Cain? We’ll knock this out in no time.” Adam holds my door open, blocking my escape.
Fucker.
“Shower, dude. I need a shower … now,” I mutter through clenched teeth as I tug the door out of his grasp and turn the ignition.
As I reverse out of the driveway, I see the exact moment when realization washes over his face, and he points and laughs at my harrowing situation.
Balls as blue as those little smurf fuckers … that’s my wish for you, Adam.
“Sweet and Low” by Augustana
Present Day
THE UMPIRE BLOWS his whistle with a puffed chest and an overly exaggerated sense of authority, seeing as this is a peewee soccer game. Gage lets loose a battle cry, beats his little chest, and bounds across the field to meet his team. Lily’s tiny fingers stay tightly wrapped around Adam’s lawn chair as she pouts.
“But I’m a princess, Daddy. I don’t want to get dirty. And I don’t want to play with boys,” she whines.
Adam shakes his head and frowns at her. I don’t know how he does it. One glimpse at her puppy dog eyes and wild curls, and I’m restraining myself from scooping her up for an impromptu tea party in the parking lot. I’m with the munchkin—princesses shouldn’t have to play soccer.
“I want you to try, Lily Pad. Can you do that for Daddy? Please?” He smooths her hair and rubs a thumb over her cheek.
She thinks on it for a minute, pursing her lips and looking to the sky. “No, Daddy. I can’t do that.”
“I’m here, I’m here,” Celia calls out while running toward the field waving her arms. “Whew! I’m so glad you didn’t go on the field without your special gear, Lily.”
Celia swipes her forehead in exaggerated relief and kneels in front of the self-proclaimed princess. Lily loosens her hold on Adam’s chair and clasps her hands together in excitement.
“What did you bring, Aunt Cece?”
Celia claps and bites her lip. “I can’t wait to show you,” she says as she digs in her purse. “I brought the perfect accessories for a butterfly soccer princess.”
I lean closer to Adam without taking my eyes off the girls. “What the hell is a butterfly soccer princess?” I mutter through the side of my mouth.
“No clue, but just go with it, man,” Adam mumbles back.
Celia pulls out two strands of sparkly silver ribbon, and gathers one of Lily’s jersey sleeves into a bunch at her shoulder. She threads the ribbon underneath the shirt and ties it into a bow, effectively making the jersey sleeveless. Lily watches her every move in complete awe.
“I bought silver ribbon so it would match your blue uniform. Butterfly soccer princesses must always match,” Celia explains with a serious tone.
“Yes,” Lily whispers as her fingers toy with the ribbon, pure magic playing on her lips.
Celia finishes tying the second bow. She peers back into her purse and squeals with excitement. “And now for the final touch.”
Her hand slowly emerges from her purse, holding two tiny pink butterflies with glittered wings. Each has a clip on the bottom, and Celia attaches a butterfly to the center of each of Lily’s silver bows.
Lily’s hands shoot up to cover her “o” shaped mouth, and her little body vibrates with excitement.
“These are where butterfly soccer princesses get their power, Lily,” Celia explains. “Now, can you show me your sparkly wings?”
Celia holds up her hands on either side of her head, and wiggles her fingers. Lily giggles and copies her hand motions.
“Like this?” Lily asks.
“Exactly! But your wings can only sparkle when you make a goal. Are you gonna try your best to give me sparkly wings today?”