Page 12 of Grumpy Single Dad

It doesn't take long to pull my cock out and bury it inside her walls. I sink myself into her, having to stoop down and push up for her pussy to engulf every throbbing inch. I don't want this to end quickly, but I also don't want to get caught out here by Frankie or a nosy neighbor.

Every stroke we make together feels like the perfect fit. Her walls contract and release around me, hugging my cock like it's missed me since the last time we were together a few hours ago this morning. The sound of her moist enjoyment coating every inch of my erection drives me to push in and out of her.

Instincts tell me to hoist her into my arms, having Rye's legs wrap around me as she begins to writhe against me. She's determined to make herself come. My knees nearly buckle as Iwalk us over to the patio furniture and bend that tight little ass of hers over a chair.

The animal inside of me that craves her, that wants to drown in her, drives me in and out of her with such force that she covers her own mouth from screaming out in ecstasy. Her wet satisfaction makes it easier for me to move in and out of her over and over again until I feel that earth-shattering quake of her thighs when she climaxes.

The crest of our orgasm carries us back inside and down the hall into my bedroom, where we spend the night trying to best one another with our sexual prowess. When the morning comes, we're spent but glowing at the possibility of our new lives.

EPILOGUE

DALLAS

Over the next few months, we celebrate Frankie's tenth birthday, which only draws us closer together. The way our families blend together effortlessly pushes me to make up my mind. I know what I want. I know who I want, and I want to talk to Frankie before I decide to change our lives.

It's a beautiful spring afternoon when I pick up Frankie from school. She's got a huge smile as she jogs to the car. I barely get a word out as she explodes the details of her day onto me. I don't mind, but as we take the forty-minute drive to Mercy, she senses my nerves.

"What's wrong, Dad?" Frankie asks.

"Nothing. I, um, I don't know how to talk about this, but?—"

She cuts me off. "Okay, Dad. We'll do it like you do to me. No judgment, no repercussions. Just spit it out, and we'll decide what to do next together."

I nod in amazement. I never thought I'd have my parenting thrown back at me, but this is for the best. The slight bulge of the ring in my pocket urges me to get this out.

"I like Mariah."

She giggles. "Duh, Dad. She's the only woman you let in the house, and she's great. You'd be silly not to."

"I mean, I really like her, like I think I'm in love with her and want to ask her to marry me. I don't want to do that if that's something you're not comfortable with."

Frankie shifts her tiny frame in the back seat to make sure our eyes meet in the mirror. "Dad, be so serious right now. I love Rye. She's so smart, and cool, and funny. She even laughs at your bad jokes. She cooks for us and loves camping way more than I do. You should definitely marry her and have a forever camping buddy."

"You're absolutely certain you're okay with her joining our family?"

"Of course I am, Dad. You're way easy to talk to when she's around, and you haven't been back to work for weeks. I like having her around if it's going to keep you home more often."

"I'm thinking about selling my security firm. Then I'll have plenty of time to?—"

Her dark brown eyes widen with joy as she cuts me off again. "Then you'll have plenty of time to look for a place for us to live near the ice cream shop and her house, right? Or do we get a place altogether?"

"One thing at a time, Frankie," I tell her with a laugh. "She has to say yes first."

"She's going to say yes," Frankie states with finality. "It has to be romantic, too. Like in the movies, there are a thousand candles and daisies or her favorite flower. Do you know what her favorite flower is, Dad?"

"Lavender," I spit out, not remembering when I picked up that detail, but I know it like I know my favorite football team stats.

"That's a pretty purple color. Maybe we can make her a special ice cream and use the lavender somehow. But we have to be careful, or it'll taste like soap."

I raise an eyebrow at her as we head out of town.

She giggles. "We did a lot of experiments with flowers and ice cream for her Mother’s Day special. Um, Dad?"

The lightness in her eyes fades as she bites the corner of her lip and stares at me.

"What's up?"

"So that means I can look at the ring, right?" she asks.

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