I join her fully on the bed, sitting with my back to the headboard and for a moment, we just exist together as we sip our coffees in the early quiet.
“How do you feel this morning?” I ask, hoping she gets my drift.
“Good; I feel really good.”
“You’re not sore?”
Her cheeks turn a sweet shade of pink. “I mean, not really.”
My dick twitches. “Good.”
Seraphine ducks her head and changes the subject. “You mentioned breakfast?”
Chuckling, I nod to the plate. “It’s more like a really late—or early—dessert.”
She passes me her mug and shucks the covers off. “Yum!”
Seraphine stretches forward, elongating her back and lifting her hips. The shirt I gave her to sleep in is bunched around her middle, giving me a jaw-dropping view of her delectable bare ass.
A low, sensual groan escapes me as my dick rises to the occasion. “Good enough to eat.”
She glances back at me over her shoulder and flashes me a coy smile. “Then come get a bite,” she whispers, bolder than I ever imagined her to be.
Coffee sloshes over the mug rims, but I couldn’t care less. Fuck. How can I be expected to even form coherent thoughts with her wriggling her hips in the air, showing off her pretty pink pussy?
I lunge for her. Her position leaves her open and exposed perfectly for me, and like a man possessed, I bury my face between her legs and feast like she’s my last meal.* * *After a handful of orgasms—for her, not me; I had some making up to do from last night—and a shower, Seraphine and I are curled up on the couch watching old episodes of Roadkill.
“The Draguar is the best,” I argue, referring to the 1974 Jag they beat to hell and back on the show. “It did the most epic burnout!”
Seraphine scoffs but stays wrapped in my arms. “Puh-lease, the Rotsun is where it’s at!”
“That clunker broke down constantly!”
“Well, duh.” She laughs and it warms me from the inside out. “All of their cars either break down, overheat, or plain break! That’s what makes it so good.”
I nuzzle my nose into the top her head, breathing in her scent. “True, true.”
The sound of the garage door opening has Seraphine tensing in my arms. “Shh, it’s just Desi.”
Seraphine cuts her eyes in the direction of the laundry room.
“She knows, and it—” is all I get out before my daughter bounds into the room.
“Ohhh, y’all look cozy,” Desi says, plopping down into my chair.
I refuse to take her bait. “Did you have fun?”
“Yes! Renee’s mom made homemade cinnamon rolls for breakfast; they were the s-h-i-t.”
“Don’t cuss,” I reprimand her as Seraphine covers her smile with her hand.
“I didn’t; I spelled it.” Desi smirks, looking proud of her loophole.
“Smartass.”
“Dad!” Desi feigns shock. “How could you use such language in the presence of ladies?”
Seraphine giggles, and I drop a kiss to the top of her head.
“What do you have going on today, pollito?”
Desi shrugs and trains her eyes on her lap.
“Talk to me,” I urge her.
“I…it’s just, um…”
The way she’s bumbling around has my hackles raised. Des is the kind of kid who goes after what she wants wholeheartedly. I’m two seconds away from asking Seraphine to step out when she finally spits it out.
“I was hoping Seraphine would wanna hang today? Like…just me and her.” Desi adds an apologetic shrug as she turns her eyes to the woman in question. “But it’s cool if you’re too busy.”
Seraphine smiles wide, wiggling out of my hold. “I’m free all day—what did you have in mind?”
Desi perks up. “Really?”
“Heck yes. Girl time sounds like the perfect Saturday to me.”
I grumble under my breath, pretending to be mad over not being included. Truthfully, I am ecstatic that two of the most important females in my life get along so well.
“Oh-em-gee! This is going to be the best day ever!”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Well, there’s that new pottery place but we could get our nails done?”
Seraphine thinks on it for a few. “How about we do both?”
“Really?”
“Def. But, we gotta stop for food first. You people have nothing to eat here.”
Desi grins. “It’s grocery day.”
Seraphine leans back into me. “Perfect. We can have a girls’ day and your dad can grocery shop. It’s a win-win.”
“For who?” I ask, laughing.
Desi rolls her eyes. “Us, Dad. Duh.”Chapter Twenty-EightSeraphine“What color do you want?” Desi asks, eyeing the rows of nail polish before us.
“Hmm. I don’t know.”
She slants her eyes up at me. “Dad’s favorite color is blue.”
I breathe out a laugh. “And you think I should get blue for him?”
Desi shrugs. “I mean, I bet he’d like it.”
“Are you picking your color for a boy?”
My teenage companion scoffs. “My only love is basketball—ooh! I’ll get my team colors!”
“Good choice,” I murmur, still taking in the colors, specifically the blues. Finally, I cave and ask, “What shade of blue?”