I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(96)

I get all those words out in what I hope is a soothing voice. But it’s far from easy, since what I really feel like doing the entire time I’m speaking and comforting Kay is finding that dick, Doug Wilson, so I can lay him the f*ck out. Fucking prick, putting my girl in a position like that—playing on her fears, on her insecurities, all the weaknesses that plagued her back then.

She’s so much stronger now, and that’s what I tell her. I know it still tears her up that her mother disowned her after finding out the truth. But I tell Kay it’s her mother’s loss that she chooses to stay turned away. It’s true. That heartless woman’s firstborn is a beautiful, kind, and caring woman. Kay is the polar opposite of the heartless bitch who bore her twenty-three years ago. Her mother is only cheating herself by not speaking to the only daughter she has left. Of course, I keep these thoughts to myself, as the last thing I care to do is upset my girl any further.

As the night wears on, we remain on the back porch. My girl curls up and nestles under my arm, her head against my chest, while I keep the swing swaying. After a while, Kay asks me to play more music. I choose a song I’ve been listening to a lot lately, a song from one of my dad’s albums that reminds me of my girl. It’s a U2 song, aptly titled “The Sweetest Thing.” I share my feelings about this song with Kay and she smiles for the first time since confessing her perceived sin.

That smile is so precious to me, because it’s the first step of Kay forgiving herself, which is really all that matters.




The next night, the Fourth of July, we are once again out on the back porch, but things are much more lighthearted. I have Kay laughing and smiling, all due to my sorry attempt at making dinner an hour earlier.

“Okay, so I’ll never be a chef on TV,” I concede as I lean back against one of the posts.

We are outside getting ready to watch some Independence Day fireworks. Tonight is the last night of the carnival down at the church and their fireworks display is set for nine thirty. I check my cell, five more minutes. And then the black night will be lit up with more than just the blinking fireflies hovering around.

Kay plops down on the swing, a dish of vanilla ice cream in her hand. Yeah, dessert I had no problem with. It was easy, just scoop from the carton and you’re done.

“Chase,” my girl begins, laughing as she dips her spoon into the ice cream, “the cheese on a grilled cheese sandwich goes in the middle, not on the top.”

“I was trying to make it fancy,” I explain, defending my culinary faux pas.

This earns me more giggles, and I am so glad I messed up dinner after all. It’s worth it to get my girl back to carefree. We’ve had enough heavy-heartedness the past two days.

A loud boom sounds off in the distance and the fireworks commence. And though they’re not exactly close, the fireworks extend high above the tree tops, so we’re given a pretty damn good show.

As the first spectacular sprays of color brighten the dark horizon, Kay sets her dish down and comes to stand next to me. I wrap an arm around her shoulder and she leans into me. A huge burst of pink and silver explodes high in the pitch-black sky. The colors sparkle and remain suspended in the air for a few seconds, before shimmering back toward the ground. The next explosion is even bigger—gold, purple, and green light up the sky. And then another firework goes up and bursts into a huge shower of red.

I “ooh” and “aah” like a damn eight-year-old as each pyrotechnic goes off, which elicits soft laughter from the girl under my arm. Without warning, Kay lifts to her tiptoes and kisses my cheek with her warm, soft lips.

When her lips remain, I turn my head so it’s my mouth, not my cheek, she’s kissing.

“I love you, mmm, so much,” she murmurs, her words muffled somewhat by our mouths moving against one another.

I don’t bother to say it back, showing is better in this case. So I back baby girl over to the swing until she has no choice but to sit down on it. I kneel before her on the wooden porch slats, and position my body between her knees.

“What are you doing, mischievous boy?” Kay asks, lounging back as I settle between her legs. “I know you’re up to something.”

“Always,” I respond with a wink.

Kay is wearing a dress, one of those sexy, lacy ones I f*cking love. So it’s with joy that I drag the material up along her legs, slowly. Sweet girl lets out a little gasp, and I hoarsely say, “Watch the fireworks, baby.”

Loud booms echo off in the distance, so I know the light show is still going on behind my back. Of course, I plan to do things to Kay that I guarantee will cause her some fireworks of her own. So it’s really up to her which display she prefers to view.

When I glance up I see my sexy girl prefers to watch me at the moment. She’s biting her lower lip and keeping her caramels on my hands as I slide her panties down her legs. I toss them behind my back. She watches as I kiss a path from the inside of her knee and up the length of her inner thigh. And she’s f*cking mesmerized when I pick up the dish of ice cream she set down earlier and spoon some onto my tongue. I close my mouth and arch an eyebrow at her as her eyes widen. That’s right, you’re going to f*cking love this, baby, my wicked grin hopefully conveys.

I softly touch Kay’s oh-so-ready core with my ice-cream-coated tongue, giving sweet girl a dose of very cold and very hot, delivered in one long, languorous lick. Her head lolls back. Baby, who’s less shy about sex every time we’re together, pushes her pink and swollen against me roughly. I slip my hot and cold tongue inside her and am rewarded with the sexiest moan I think I’ve ever heard.