Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Chapter Seven: Michael
I took a nap when I got home—I stayed so late at the restaurant Friday and Saturday nights and we were closed in the morning so I usually slept in until noon. Getting up early to get down there for Stevie was unusual, and after our kiss…
Fucking hell.
I’d nearly fucked her right there on the table. The way she was writhing on my thigh like she was seconds away from coming, her neck arching for my mouth, the adorable desperate mewling noises she was making… how she’d shivered when I’d dirty talked her…
No. No, she was my employee, and I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t believe I’d let myself let it get that far. It was wrong on so many levels. I never should have kissed her.
And yet, when I lay down for my nap, I found that I dreamed of her.
I couldn’t remember how we got there, the way it is with dreams, how you start in the middle - but we were in a meadow. It was warm and sunny, and I felt content. Stevie’s hand was in mine and she was tugging on it, laughing, leading me somewhere.
We fell into the grass, warm and soft grass, far softer and warmer than in real life. Or maybe the grass rose up to meet us. I couldn’t be sure, in dreams. I pushed myself down on top of her, spreading her legs, and kissed her over and over until she was begging me to fuck her.
Please, please I’ll be so good for you, Michael, Michael, please touch me, please…
It was intoxicating. She was shivering with need, and I slowly peeled the clothes off her body, taking my time, kissing every inch of her. I rubbed my thumb against her folds, finding her so wet she was practically dripping. Fuck, yes.
Only when she was sobbing and chanting for me, unable to even speak properly, did I line myself up. I was just getting ready to sink into her properly, to fuck her until she screamed, until she couldn’t walk…
When I woke up to my alarm.
Oh for fuck’s sake!
My cock was throbbing with need, leaking, and all it took was a quick pull or two from my hand to have me coming hard. I could barely even see straight.
I hadn’t had a sex dream like that in… fucking hell, in years. Since before Virginia and I split. I sometimes had vague moments in dreams where I would be with someone, and I’d wake up hard just because I’m a damn man and it’s what we do, but nothing like that. Not anything so much as near that.
I wished more than anything that the dream was a reality, as stupid as it was.
But it couldn’t be a reality. I’d already crossed too many lines. Stevie had to stay a fantasy, and nothing more.
I got up and went down into the kitchen, making myself some coffee.
Brooke, who always slept in until at least noon on Saturdays, breezed in. “Hey, Dad.” She kissed me on the cheek.
I grunted in response.
“Paging Mr. Grumpypants,” Brooke said, grabbing a mug for coffee and holding it out. I poured her some. “What’s got you in such a bad mood?”
Her tone was playful, but I caught the worry underneath. She liked to keep things light as much as she could but I knew that she worried for me.
I shrugged. “Nothing really, just one of those mornings.”
Brooke reached into the fridge and pulled out some fruit, passing it to me. “You need to eat something other than coffee.”
“I thought I was the parent here?” I replied.
Brooke popped a grape into her mouth as if to say see?
I sighed and accepted the fruit. Virginia used to be the one to make breakfast in the morning. She wasn’t a professional chef but she loved cooking. Our whole family had been about cooking. When Theo had come over and he and I would cook in tandem… I’d always thought I was so damn lucky to have such a great best friend, a son almost, and then my wife and my daughter…
I’d thought I had it all.
Virginia hadn’t been one for cooking lunch or dinner type meals, but she’d loved making breakfast food. Pancakes of all kinds, waffles, cinnamon rolls, omelets, eggs any way you wanted them… huevos rancheros and biscuits and gravy… if someone ate it for breakfast somewhere in the world, she would make it. She even made breakfast pizza sometimes.
Since she left three years ago, the only hot meals I got were at the restaurant. I hadn’t touched anything in our kitchen. Brooke tended to just use the microwave. She was never a big one for cooking, although she loved to eat.
The thought came before I could stop it - what about Stevie? What if I woke up from a sex dream like that not alone in my bed but with her curled up in my arms?