Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“Hey, babe.”
She curls an arm around my neck and pulls me in for a deep, welcoming kiss. “Mmm. I needed that,” she says as she releases me.
I drag a chair behind her and start to massage her shoulders. “Tough day?”
“I love the kids we have here. I hate the parents. One mother wanted to know why her six-year-old wasn’t in pointe shoes yet. Apparently, some other studio is allowing them.”
I stop. “Isn’t that, like, abuse?”
“I called the studio and they deny it. And they added that they kicked the mom out two months ago for being problematic.”
“We always inherit the difficult ones, don’t we?”
“Because I can’t say no,” Erika admits.
I lean over and grab her brush. “Want it in braids and a bun or just a bun?”
“Braids and then the bun since you’re asking.”
I get to work, dividing the hair and then sectioning it off. Not too long after saying so long to Erika’s parents, I did good on my promise to watch videos on how to braid Erika’s heavy mane. Her mom had done it for her when she was a girl and since we basically kicked her mom out of Erika’s life, I took over the duty.
It’s kind of sensual, running my hands through Erika’s long tresses, having those silky strands spill over my arm and onto my lap. It took me a while to figure out the process because I’d always get so horny that I’d tip her onto her knees, pull down her pants and fuck her like a rutting stallion. It’s been years since then, so I’ve gained some control. Some.
“Don’t even think about it,” she warns as if she can read my mind. “Our son will be here any minute and we have a recital to put on in an hour and a half.”
Sigh. “Okay, but later, I’m using this as I take you.” I tug on a finished braid.
“Be my guest,” she purrs.
My cock instantly springs to attention. “Don’t or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
A knock on the door sounds before I can properly show Erika exactly what I mean. With another heavy exhale, I release Erika and roll my chair over to the door. “Who is it?”
“Me,” comes the muffled response.
I pop open the door to see our son, Ethan, standing outside. At thirteen, the boy stands taller than everyone in his class. His shoulders are wide enough to fit a man’s large, but he’s still a kid. So many people look at him and think he’s an adult and treat him like one.
“How was practice, son?”
“Good.” He holds up a bloody hand. “Had a little problem at the gas station across the street though.”
Erika jumps to her feet. “Oh no, sweetheart, what happened?”
“Nothing much.” Over her head, his eyes meet mine.
I give him a nod of acknowledgment. He wants to run the situation by me first before we worry Erika. “Why don’t you go wash up and when I’m done with your mom, I’ll come find you.”
He nods and disappears.
“I can do my own hair,” Erika bats my hands away. “Go see to our son.”
“You sure?” I always want to finish things that I start.
“I’m sure.” She gets up on her tiptoes and kisses my chin. “I know he wants to tell you something. You should hear him out.”
I give her a wry smile and cuddle her for a hug. “Can’t get anything by you, can we?”
“I’m glad you know that.” She pats me on the ass and shoves me out into the hall.
I find Ethan in quick order. He’s got the first-aid kit out and is awkwardly dabbing alcohol on his knuckles.
I take the medical supplies from him and straddle the bench.
“What’s the story?”
“There’s this kid, Steven, who has had the hots for this one girl, Tina. Tina’s been telling him to leave her alone, but he won’t listen. She was filling her tank when he came up behind her and started grinding on her, pretending to dance to the music. I pulled him off and he took a swing at me. I didn’t mean to hit him back, but…” He raises his hand.
“Reflexes,” I fill in. “You’ve got killer reflexes.” I pull his hand back into my lap and administer iodine before wrapping him up.
“You gonna send me back to the home?”
The home is the halfway house he was stuck in for a few months before the social worker asked us to take him in.
“Nope. You’re stuck with us.”
“Even if that guy sues you? He says he’s going to take your gym and Erik—I mean, Mom’s dance studio.”
“First, he can’t take that from us because you didn’t do anything wrong. Second, even if we were going to lose the gym and dance studio, we would keep you. People over things, Ethan. It’s always people over things.”
“But this is our home.”