Desperately Seeking Epic(54)
When she leaves, as I chew, I glance at Paul. He’s holding his burnt toast, his mouth twisted to the side. “Clearly she gets her cooking skills from you. But you know what? It’s the best damn breakfast I’ve ever had, because it was made with her little hands.”
I smile genuinely. This is as hard on Paul as it is on me. He continues to chew and I can’t help but chuckle a little, but when I do, I choke on the toast in my mouth and start coughing. Taking a sip from my coffee, I get it down, but then there’s the issue of the coffee itself.
“I know,” Paul murmurs, taking in my expression. “It’s awful. Her own original recipe,” he adds and laughs.
He is having way too much fun pointing out Neena gets her culinary skills from me. I shush him as I giggle quietly, worried Neena might be listening. “You seem to be getting it down just fine.”
He shrugs one shoulder before taking another sip. “My little girl made me breakfast in bed. If she’d bought me a burnt turd and a cup of toilet water, I’d choke it down.”
“Eww. Nice, Paul. That’s almost poetic.” I’m giving him a hard time, but what he said, although disgusting, melts my heart. He loves her. And making her dad breakfast is just as special to her as it is to him. Shaking my head, I add, “A turd and toilet water. Really?”
“Sorry, your morning breath made me think of it.”
I smack his chest before plopping my plate on his and flinging the covers back as I set my mug on my nightstand. But Paul is quick. He grabs my arm and tugs me back, managing to keep the coffee in his mug from spilling. As he holds me in place, he twists his other arm back and places the cup on the other nightstand closest to him before moving the stacked plates there as well. In a flash, he has me back in bed, pinned beneath the weight of his body. I don’t fight too hard; it feels too good to have him on top of me like this, his mouth now dancing kisses along my shoulder and neck. But when he tries to press his mouth to mine, I twist my head.
“Sorry, but my breath smells like a turd. Remember?”
He laughs haughtily. “I was just kidding. It doesn’t smell like a turd.” Then with an apologetic smile, he adds, “Toilet water, maybe. But that nice floral-scented water.”
“Dick,” I mumble. He laughs some more.
Taking my face in his hand, he turns me so my eyes meet his. And though I’m pouting, our gazes lock and we watch one another, both of us recognizing what’s happening. We’re coming together again. But why? Is it that there’s something really here? Is there real chemistry? Or are we both afraid to be alone as we watch Neena leave us? I don’t think I realized I needed someone to help me get through this. Not until Paul came back. Of course, I’ve had Marcus and Mei-ling and the guys at work, but maybe I needed more. There’s something to be said about the distraction of a budding romance. And maybe that’s what this is. Or maybe it’s only two people seeking solace in one another. One thing’s for sure. It’s scary as f*ck. There’s so much history, yet there’s a big gap in it. Neither of us are who we were thirteen years ago, but we’re not entirely different either. He wants me. I can feel it. His erection is pressing against my leg, his dark eyes are rich and hungry with desire. This time, when he leans in to kiss me, I let him. It starts off slow and I moan in his mouth as his hand slips down and finds my breast, groping it gently. But then, we’re frantic. In seconds he has slipped my panties down my legs and has my legs over his shoulders. With the first flick of his tongue, I moan again, pleasure shooting through me like a bullet.
“Shh, Clara,” he warns me as I mew with pleasure. I pull a pillow over my face knowing I need to be quiet because Neena might hear, but not sure I can. It feels so good to be touched like this. By him. When he dances his tongue over my clit, quick and soft, my hips buck up, my body begging for more. His large hands hold me still, working his magic, humming deeply, and just as I’m about to hit that sweet, sweet moment of release . . .
“Mom!” Neena shouts. Her voice sounds like she’s close to my room. Paul practically hits the ceiling as he jumps up and flips so he’s sitting beside me, yanking the blankets over us. I hurriedly run my hands over his beard, slick with my arousal, before trying to smooth the blankets as the bedroom door flies open.
“Where’s my purple scarf?”
“Dryer,” I tell her, a little too eagerly. Her gaze darts between me and Paul, then falls to the floor where Paul flung my panties moments ago. Her eyes widen with realization. She quickly shuts the door and her heavy footsteps taper off down the hall.
“You think she knows?”
“I’d say so . . .” I mumble. “She looked pretty freaked out.”
“Damn.” He rubs his face with both hands. “So this is what it feels like to be cock-blocked,” he chuckles, handling his erection under the blanket.
Smiling at him, I lean my head on his shoulder. “Welcome to fatherhood, Paul.”
I’m standing in the bathroom, shaving my neck, where my beard has grown down to. Neena has been watching me, oddly fascinated with the task. A part of me wonders if this is just her hanging out with me, or if she needs to talk.
“Something on your mind, princess?”
She fidgets a little from where she sits on the edge of the tub. “I wanted to ask you something.”