“I love you, too,” he breathed. “Fuck, I’m close. I’m so fucking close, Lara. I’m going to cum.”
I dug my fingers into his strong back and carefully dragged my nails down his skin, squeezing my legs tighter to encourage Chuck’s movements. “Cum for me,” I panted.
With a few more frantic thrusts, Chuck moaned loudly and shuddered as he rode wave after wave of pleasure. I came hard, too, the tight walls of my pussy pulsing and overheating with desire. I kissed Chuck on the cheeks, on the tip of his nose, smiling all the while in satisfaction. All of my senses were overcome, and the knowledge that Chuck was mine and mine alone had me practically melting against his touch.
14
Chuck
Six Months Later
Around three in the afternoon, I arrived at Clarissa’s daycare center to pick her up. It was a cool fall afternoon, and the nearby trees were just starting to turn a beautiful gradient of yellow, orange, and red. The daycare had been swarming with mothers –many of whom had wandering eyes the second I approached the doors– and I had to admit I wasn’t entirely comfortable standing at the pickup gate for longer than necessary.
“You’re Charles Hill, right?” asked one woman. She pulled out a paperback copy of my latest title, Winter Whispers. “Would you be willing to sign my copy? I’m such a huge fine.”
I smiled and pulled a pen out of my jacket pocket –packed for situations just like this– and nodded. “I’d be happy to.”
Some of the other mothers started to gather around, intrigued.
“I’ve got a copy, too,” said another. “I’m only on the second chapter, but I’m totally hooked.”
“What made you decide to write a love story, Mr. Hill?” asked the first.
“The characters are just so real! Do you draw inspiration from real life? Laura feels so real I sometimes think we could be best friends.”
I chuckled, “You ladies should consider coming to one of my writing workshops. I divulge all my secrets there.”
Clarissa skipped out through the doors with a brown paper bag decorated in multiple googly eyes, colorful pipe cleaners attached haphazardly for hair, and a mess of glitter glue drawn on in a supposed pattern. She handed me her crafted puppet with pride and beamed.
“I made this for you, Daddy,” she cheered.
“Thank you, baby, it’s–” I took a moment to search for the right words. I was an author, dammit. Surely I could find the right adjective. “It’s really cool.”
“His name is Mr. Snuffles,” she explained in a matter-of-fact tone. “He’s magical.”
“He’s magical? What kind of magic can he do?” I picked Clarissa up and nodded to the mothers before walking away.
“All of it,” my daughter explained.
We walked together for a couple of blocks and wound up at a little kiddie park. There was a set of swings set up on the edge of the play area, and a seesaw directly behind it. A couple of unattended children, probably no more than ten, were busy building a sandcastle in the sandbox on the other side of the jungle gym. Clarissa shot me a confused look.
“Aren’t we going home, Daddy? Lara said she was going to make us pancakes for dinner.”
I laughed, content. “We will soon, baby. I just wanted to take a moment to talk to you.”
I placed Clarissa down on one of the swings and got behind her to push. She swung her legs to help gather up momentum, chains squeaking as she moved back and forth.
“What do you want to talk about, Daddy? Am I in trouble?”
“No, you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to ask you what you thought of Lara.”
Clarissa smiled wide. “She’s amazing! She’s so pretty and nice.”
“I totally agree. What else do you like about her?”
“I like that she helps me with my homework. And she never yells at me, which is nice.”
“She is really sweet, isn’t she?”