Page 48 of Stick Move

I reach for the blankets to cover her up. “Let me get you a drink.”

“No, you stay here. I’ll go.” She points to my still swollen dick. “You’re not quite up to running to the kitchen.”

“You mean I’m too up to run to the kitchen.”

She chuckles. “Exactly.” She slides from the bed, and tugs on my T-shirt and her underwear.

“Hurry, there are things I want to do to you.”

“I’ll be fast.”

I adjust the bedding and wait for her. A few minutes later, she comes back with two water bottles in one hand, while the other is behind her back. My heart jumps when she walks through my bedroom door, looking warm and sexy and ready to go another round.

“That’s an awful lot of whipped cream you bought, don’t you think?” she asks.

“I thought it was best to stock up. You said it was your weakness, so I had no idea how many dishes, or desserts, or things you liked to put it on.”

She pulls her hand out from behind her back and shows me one of the chilled canisters. With a sexy and playful grin on her face she asks, “Want me to show you?”

“I thought you said, not even in my wildest dreams.”

She saunters toward me, accentuating her wiggle as she sprays a little cream into her mouth. “Right, but I didn’t say anything about your wildest fantasies…”

14

BRIGHTON

I fell back into a very deep sleep after Noah and I found creative ways to use the whipped cream. Fortunately, the early morning seagulls pulled me awake as they do most mornings, and I woke before Camryn was up. That she or her father aren’t early risers helped me make my escape.

I did a quick tidy of his bedroom, disposing the canister in the garbage can in my kitchen, so Jellybean didn’t ask a million questions as to why her father was eating whipped cream in bed. But as I think about that now, staring out at the ocean below, a strange new sense of peace fills my soul. Maybe this down time has been good for me. Or maybe it’s all the sex that’s filling me with a new kind of contentment. I can’t remember the last time I had so many endorphins racing through my well used body.

I turn and hug myself. I suppose I should check on Noah and Camryn, and see if I can make them some breakfast. Honestly, I love having someone to cook for. I always preferred homemade meals over store bought, but Dad usually just ordered in from the restaurant. I actually miss the days on the farm when we’d all sit down to a family Sunday dinner. I was little then, and I was happy. Even Mom used to come to the farm and she seemed happy enough. I guess there was more going on beneath the surface. More than a child could see, anyway.

Giving them a little more time to sleep, I walk around my place, which seems awfully quiet without little footsteps running around the place. Jeez, have I grown accustomed to having Camryn around that fast? Maybe I have. I do an email check, but my inbox isn’t what it used to be and in the past, I thrived on meeting demands. Now, however, I kind of like not being pulled into a million different directions.

I walk into the hallway separating our wings and stand there for a second, listening for sounds on the other side of Noah’s door. Should I just leave the two of them alone? Am I being ridiculously needy? Just because we’re having sex and I’m caring for his daughter doesn’t mean he wants me around all the time. He never said anything about the three of us having breakfast together.

This is ridiculous. I turn to go back to my wing, but stop abruptly when Noah’s door swings wide open and I can’t help but smile when I see sweet little Jellybean standing there in her twisted up nightgown.

“Ms. Brighton, I was just coming to get you,” she yells at the top of her lungs.

“Inside voice, Bean.”

I shift to see past her shoulders, having heard Noah, but don’t see him. “Why were you coming to get me?”

“For breakfast. Dad said to tell you he’s making pancakes, from flour,” she emphasizes. “And we have whipped cream.”

“He told you to tell me he had whipped cream.”

Before she can answer, Noah steps up to the door, looking warm, sexy and satiated and my entire body responds, and when I mean my entire body, yes, I’m talking about the pumping organ just to the left side of my chest. Dammit and damn him for the sexy grin he’s aiming my way.

“Yeah, I did,” he responds.

“Ms. Brighton, I want you to make my pancakes.”

“Hey,” Noah shoots back, feigning hurt as he puts his hand over his heart. “What’s wrong with my pancakes?”

“Daddy, please…” With that, she runs off and Noah shakes his head.

---