Long Ball(26)

I know we shouldn’t act like this in front of her, but I don’t want to let her go. Instead, I find Cora’s room, an explosion of pink fluffiness, and survey her bookshelf. She’s got at least seventy books crammed in a tiny shelf, stacked on top of each other.

Cora comes prancing in, looking like a tiny angel in her night gown, and climbs into bed. Megan tucks her in and switches on a lamp on the nightstand.

“What do you want to hear tonight?” I ask.

“Pinkalicious!” Cora exclaims, clapping her hands. The girl is always happy, always giggling, and it’s infectious.

I find a very pink book and look at it, shaking my head. “I’m going to buy you a bunch of books from my childhood. You need a little Venezuela in here.”

“Where’s that?” Cora asks.

“Very far away, but it’s very beautiful. That’s my home.”

“That’s why you say funny words sometimes.” She looks serious, studious almost, and it makes me laugh.

“Si, mamacita. Those funny words are called Spanish. That’s what we speak in Venezuela.”

“Can you teach me Spanish, too?”

“Claro que si. That means of course.”

We settle around the bed and I read a few short stories about this Pinkalicious girl and her weird adventures with a gold pet unicorn. It’s very fitting for this sparkly little girl, but I’m still going to have my mom dig up my favorite books from when I was a child and send them up this way. It’s time to instill a little familial history into this girl.

Reading to her is one of the most fulfilling things I’ve ever done. It’s different than being on the bus, surrounded by other people and cameras. This feels intimate and quiet and like something every normal family does every night. I want to do it forever.

“You’re a natural.” Megan says quietly, shutting the door behind her. Cora dropped off quickly after the book. “Though I shouldn’t be surprised. Cora wouldn’t stop talking about the books you read on the bus.”

“I like reading her stories.” I wrap an arm around Megan’s waist and, now that we are alone, she lets me. “I like being involved in her life.”

“I do, too,” Megan says quietly, smiling softly, hesitantly.

“I know this is a lot for you— “

“It is.”

“—but I want you to know I’m here to work on your time table. I want you to be comfortable with me here, with me involved. I know I ambushed you at the zoo, but it was one of my best off days I’ve ever had.”

Her cheeks pink at the mention of earlier. I grab her by the waist and set her on the kitchen counter, so we’re eye level. I also unabashedly get an eyeful of her tits. I want them naked, but baby steps and all that.

“I’d do it every off day, if I could.”

Megan laughs and rests her arms on my shoulders as I run my hands up her back. We’re close, comfortable, familiar. “You’d get tired of the zoo very quickly.”

“Not if we can keep riding the Skyfari.” My voice turns dangerous and I place a kiss on her collarbone. “Besides, there are other museums and parks and movies.”

“It’s a lot to ask.”

“You’re worth it.” I say firmly. My hands are back on her thighs and inch inward. “No more saying you aren’t. This is what I want.”

“You’ve barely been around us.” Her breath hitches a little as my fingers trespass against her creamy smooth skin. “You could get bored of us so easily.”

“I’m not those other *s.” I stop my hands and look deep in her eyes. “I’m Cora’s father. I’m crazy about you. Megan, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You might.”

I grasp her tender thighs and growl against her ear. “I’m not.”

She stares at me, into me. “Prove it.”

My breath catches and I knead into her skin. “You know what you’re asking.”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Megan, tell me this is what you want.”

She steadies herself and then presses her whole body into me, so we are seamless. “Jamie Bonilla, I want you to take me to my bedroom and make love to me.”

Girls telling me what they want is a weakness. Listening to them take charge, tell me what they like, whisper how desperately they want me, turns me on like nothing else. More than looking at naked flesh. More than feeling their hands on my cock. One of my favorite phrases, of all time, is, “I want you to f*ck me.”

But she didn’t say those words. She said she wanted me to make love to her. It is the most powerful thing that’s ever been said to me.

I sweep her off the counter and carry her to her room, her legs wrapped around my waist, our lips never parting. We bump into walls and couches on our way, but nothing stops my legs from moving or my lips from kissing. I don’t bother with the light switch and feel my way to her bed in the middle of the room. Her home is small, modest, but it suits her and is perfect. This bed, smaller than mine, is perfect.

I set her down and she immediately goes for my belt, but I still her hands. “I want to do this.”

She gives me a flirty, sexy smile illuminated in the lamplight outside her window. “Are you going to strip for me?”