Page 51 of Bad & Bossy

The warmth of the sun on my bare back coaxed me gently from sleep. I hadn’t slept so well since she’d last been in my bed, and even then, it wasn’t like this. I felt rested, satiated.

Reaching across the sheets, I searched for her. But I came up empty, my eyes peeling open, only to find nothing more than a blank space where she’d been before.

My stomach dropped. Not again.

The panic in my gut forced me from the bed. There wasn’t a single part of me that had fallen asleep worried that she’d leave again but here I was, my throat aching, boxers in hand, heading out my bedroom door to look out the front window from the top of the stairwell.

Her Camry was still parked outside.

The realization that I was standing in the middle of my hallway completely naked set in as the panic slipped away. I wasn’t that concerned about Bobby stumbling across me, but I wasn’t exactly one to show my cock to anyone that happened to pass by.

I pulled my boxers on and checked the guest room, then the gym, then the upstairs living area. In each space I came up empty. It was when I stumbled into the bathroom two doors down from my bedroom that I finally found her, hunched over the bathroom sink with two devices stuck to her breasts and one of my button-ups around her shoulders.

The words almost left my mouth.

I thought you’d left.

She gave me a soft little smile and held up the controller for the device. “Sorry,” she said, her voice still thick with sleep. “Remembered it this time.”

Something about seeing her like that, in my house, caring for her child even without him there, made my chest feel full. “Is there anything I can do to help?” I offered, stepping past the threshold. I glanced at the machine but I didn’t want to stare at it, so instead, I watched her eyes, her lips.

“A glass of water would be amazing,” she grinned.

By the time I’d retrieved it and come back, the bottles and the attachments were resting on the sink. Instead, she’d replaced them with her hands, her face scrunched in concentration as she massaged each breast. “Does it hurt?”

“Hmm? Oh. No, it’s just… weird,” she laughed.

I set the glass down in front of her and saddled up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. I watched as she worked at them in the mirror. Each little squeeze and push, each little grunt she made churned something inside of my chest.

She reached for the pump again but I held her back, grasping her wrist gently in my palm and plucking the two little suction attachments from her. Her look of surprise softened as she glanced back at me in the mirror, the smallest little smile tugging at her lips.

Dana guided me, showing me how to place them and what button to press on the device, explaining how she needed to coax more out halfway through to get a good pump.

I took in every word.

I took in every goddamn second.

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Any other morning I would have opted to go back to bed with Dana or join her in the shower. But I knew the state of my own house, knew that Bobby had no sense of control when it came to keeping things clean, and I didn’t want her to inevitably end up in one of the living spaces or the kitchen and walk into a disaster.

So instead of taking my time with her, I took the time to impress her.

I picked up every scrap of trash Bobby had left behind and stuffed it into a bag before dumping it in the outside bin. I washed the dishes, wiped the counters, I even fucking vacuumed. There wasn’t a single thing left behind, not a single crumb or morsel. I wanted to prove to her that after last night, I wasn’t too far gone.

I shot a message to Bobby. He still hadn’t come home, at least not that I could tell. A part of me was almost jealous of how much his social life in Boulder had seemed to take off, but I didn’t let it sour me.

Hope you had a good night. I had Dana over.

By the time she finally emerged, taking the steps carefully from what I could only imagine was a good ache between her thighs, I was halfway through making her breakfast.

Still in my button-up shirt but with the buttons actually fastened and nothing underneath, she looked like a goddamn dream. Her wet, wavy hair hung over one shoulder, dampening the white material and giving me a peek of her breast. The leftover makeup from last night was gone, nothing but her bare, tanned skin and freckles left behind.

The temptation to throw her over the counter and take her again was nearly maddening.

“Smells good,” she grinned. “What are you making?”

“Honestly?” I laughed, reaching out an arm and tucking her into my side. “It’s just bacon. I’m not exactly the best chef in the world.”

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