Page 71 of Christmas with the Baby Daddy

She moaned as I pulled out my wet shaft from her tight pussy. Keeping my fingers in her ass, I guided her to get on her hands and knees. As I knelt behind her, I spun my fingers, earning a low moan of pleasure. “Shh,” I warned her.

Tilting forward, she rested her head on the bed and thrust that sweet ass in the air. I didn’t wait, sticking my dick right back in. As I pounded into her, I watched it all. My penis soaked with her juices as it disappeared into her. My fingers thrusting into her ass and stretching her. Between both holes being full, she was pushed to come hard, too soon. Muffling her cries in the pillow, she exploded for me. Her release snapped, and I didn’t stall to find my own. Keeping my fingers in her rosette, I slammed into her tight grip one more time and flooded her with my cum.

It was over too quickly. Every time I was deep inside her felt like it wasn’t long enough, but in the back of my mind, I resolved to correct that.

If I can count on doing this for the rest of my life… it’ll even out.

Because after we showered then cuddled in bed, I came to terms with the stark fact that I loved her. That I could see myself being here, content and at home.

If she wasn’t already asleep, it would’ve been a perfect time to tell her, but I wasn’t so greedy as to keep her up. She said she wanted to talk to me, and while I had a teeny suspicion that it might be about the possibility that I was George’s father, I knew that no conversations would be held while she slept.

In the morning.I vowed to score a few minutes to speak to her before she got too busy again.

When her alarms went off, though, she didn’t stir. She was that spent, perhaps from her busy life and the hot, if quick, sex last night.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I said quietly, rousing her a bit so she’d hear me. I didn’t have it in me to make her get up or have a difficult discussion. She clearly needed to sleep in still.

“Hmm?” She didn’t fully open both eyes, snuggling into the pillow and sighing against me.

Damn. I didn’t want to get up now either. I’d much prefer to cuddle with her all morning.

“I’m going to take George to school soon, okay?”

She nodded, sleepy but sort of cognizant.

“I’m heading there anyway to do some stuff for Cole, so I can take him.” I kissed her brow.

“Really? Thank you. I just want to sleep in for a few more minutes.”

I smiled, loving this sated, relaxed version of her. “I’ll set an alarm so you can get up to come see his class project.”

“Hmm-mmm.” She sighed, her eyes closing again.

Even though I’d come over after he was already asleep last night, George adapted to the change of plans. He was surprised to see me waking him up, but not unhappy about it. We got breakfast and readied to go, and on the drive to the school, he chatted about what he was most looking forward to over break. Today was the last day before they’d be off for three weeks.

“Will you build a snow fort with me?” he asked as I parked.

“Yeah. Sure will, kiddo.”

“Mama’s good at making snowmen, but her forts always collapse.”

I smiled, envisioning all three of us playing in the snow. Projecting myself into an image of familial and domestic bliss should’ve startled me, but it just felt so right. To be with Blake. With George. To stay in Vernford and be with them both for as long as I could.

As soon as I see her again.I had to talk to her about what seemed so obvious in my eyes.

After I saw George to his class’s line, I got inside to handle the list of tasks that needed to be done before all the class parties and the programs that would happen. I got into the roll of it all, working on autopilot as I cleaned and moved things. Blake was on my mind the whole time, and I used this chance to rehearse how I’d like to talk to her.

I love youwas simple enough, but that was only part of what she had to hear from my lips.

Parents began to get in my way as I finalized more of the things I had to check off my list. Volunteers usually came through for a variety of things, but today, many of them were gathering in the library to set up for the program George would present in.

Pausing in moving one row of tables to the other side of the room, I listened in to what Reagan was saying now. She hadn’t glanced in my direction, perhaps not realizing I was there around an aisle of bookcases.

“I think they should make George go last,” she complained to another parent.

“Why?” the other woman said, her tone full of eagerness for juicy gossip.

“Because,” Reagan said. “He’s just the product of a mistake.”

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