Page 59 of The Single Dad

“So fucking beautiful,” Cole murmurs. “Just like that, baby. You’re doing so well.”

I look over at him, and he smiles fleetingly, darkly. His fingers withdraw from my pussy, and as he sits back in his seat, his tongue snakes over his knuckles, subtly savoring my taste.

Immediately, I’m turned on all over again. The sight of him licking his fingers is so hot I think I might combust, and I want him to keep going, to take me somewhere I can’t come back from.

But we don’t have time for that. We’re no longer hidden from view high up on the Ferris wheel, and less than three minutes later, the ride is over.

The Ferris wheel comes to a stop, and the ride attendant ushers us out of the car. Dazed, my legs shaking, I follow Cole as he strides confidently back to the group of parents. He has his head high and his shoulders relaxed, as if nothing even happened, but I can see the blaze of satisfaction in his expression.

“Did you ride the Ferris wheel?” one of the friendlier moms asks me as I approach. “You must not be an amusement park person, huh?”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Your legs are pretty wobbly, and that’s the slowest ride there is.” She laughs. “Are you up for the carousel, or is that a little too much for you?”

I force a weak chuckle. “I think it must have been the height.”

The rest of the party passes in a dizzying blur. Cole and I follow Archie around as he excitedly lines up for different rides. He’s not tall enough for a lot of the bigger rides, but there’s enough for him to do that he doesn’t stay disappointed for long.

I stay on the ground when he goes on the kiddie rollercoaster, keeping up the charade that I’m afraid of heights, but I join him on the carousel.

All I can think about, the entire time, is Cole.

I’m hyperaware of him, of his proximity to me. My panties are soaked, so much so that I’m worried it’ll become noticeable to others. My entire body is humming with the aftereffects of my orgasm.

I came so hard on the Ferris wheel that my knees were weak, and yet, I’m desperate for more.

I can’t stop trying to catch Cole’s eye, hoping that he will look at me and I’ll see a flash of that hunger in his gaze. But he barely glances my way. All day, he acts like nothing happened at all.

Nobody knows what transpired on the Ferris wheel. Cole is calm, his demeanor normal; why would anyone suspect a thing?

For some reason, although I know that’s objectively a good thing, it still bothers me. Like part of me wishes they knew.

More importantly, I wish that we didn’t have to ignore this tension. My mind is racing, trying to decide what to do later on, after we get home.

On our way home, Archie chatters happily about the amusement park rides, telling us all about his favorites. Cole and I listen indulgently, asking him questions here and there. Away from the other parents, we’re still keeping up the charade.

Cole is good at pretending. So good, in fact, that I almost start to doubt myself. Maybe my sex dreams about him are starting to get too realistic; what if the entire thing, from the moment we stepped onto the Ferris wheel, was all in my head?

I help Cole make dinner for Archie. We dance around each other in the kitchen. He fries up burgers; I toss baby carrots in salt. We barely look at each other, each of us pouring our attention onto Archie instead.

As much as my thoughts are taken up by Cole, I’m still able to focus on Archie. I take the little boy upstairs after his dinner, getting him cleaned up and tucked into bed. He asks me for a story, and I indulge with a silly tale about his dinosaur going on a vacation.

Once Archie is asleep, I go straight to my room. I want nothing more than to go downstairs and find Cole, but I tell myself not to overstep. To be careful.

I pull out my phone, debating whether or not to text Olivia and get her take. I know exactly what she would say.

Go downstairs and find that man!

Following the advice that Olivia didn’t get the chance to give me, I swing my legs out of bed and start toward the door.

Then, halfway across the room, I freeze.

As much as I want to see him—I can’t.

After all, he might want to pretend that it never happened. That could be the reason why he’s been so buttoned-up, avoiding mention of what occurred. He might be regretting it. He might be—

My thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door.

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