Page 11 of Wicked Wishes
Harley
I am giving up the ghost—I want Hanna Potter.
Doing a perimeter check gives me an excuse to watch my girls from afar, as I decide this at last. Darkness gives me cover as I watch the girl I told myself I couldn’t have cuddled up with my little girl. Not having her is no longer an option. I need her. Need her so badly I can’t even hide it from my daughter. Before I dropped her off with Hanna today, she was grilling me about us being a thing.
“What do you think that means, monster?” I asked her while we worked on my truck—well, I worked on it, she just handed me tools and asked me questions I was not sure how to answer.
“It means…like nana and poppa. You hold hands and you kiss and at night times, you go to sleep in the same room. I think even the same bed. Maybe even get married with flowers and birds and she could be my…”
Hope stopped talking and looked shy, her cute little face turning pink. I dropped my tools and went to her, waiting for her to go on. I wanted her to tell me how she felt about things—Hanna included. We talk about her mama a lot and she knows she loved her when she was here and now that she’s gone, she still loves her. We never wanted someone else to take her place, so we never had to have a talk like we had today.
“Do you think daddy needs someone to marry? Because you want a mommy?”
“No. We don’tneedanyone,” she scoffed with a roll of her eyes but then she backtracked, “but maybe she needs you? And me too? She likes…. we like the same stuff, daddy. No one else likes the stuff I do.”
My heart broke when I saw tears in her eyes, but something told me they weren’t sad tears. Sniffling back those tears, she was all smiles as she went on and on about Hanna. About how fun she is when she has sat with her a few times since our night at the pizza place. How she does not just watch her favorite movies with her—but how they’re her favorites too. And how she said how special Hope is because she likes the things other people call weird. Weird is cool, she told her. And I told Hope that Hanna is right—weird is the coolest.
Weird, different, peculiar, that is what drew me to Hanna, I know that now. I thought my life would turn out one way but when I lost my wife that became impossible. For years I went through the motions of living, doing all the things I thought I needed to be doing. Taking care of my little girl and staying true to my wife—but I was not living life at all.
Meeting Hanna—she sparked me back to life again.
Tonight, I am going to go in there and snuggle with my girls and let Hanna and I become a thing. Scary as it is, it is all I have been able to think about for months and hearing my daughter say it out loud sealed the deal. I want her and she wants me, and so I am going to let us have what we want. Makes it even easier now knowing my little monster wants Hanna in our life as badly as I do.
I watch Hanna curled up on the couch in the flickering light of whatever horror flick they were watching. I have watched her like this often, and hell it may be creepy, but I don’t care. I have stood outside her window at night, making out the sounds of her touching herself. I have stroked my cock to that sound, right outside her window, not giving a shit how wrong it was to deny her but take that for myself.
Hell, maybe I will never let go of my wife completely—or of the life I thought we would have—but I am tired of not grabbing a hold of what is right in front of me. Hanna wants me and I want her. And right now, today, this moment, that is all that matters. Maybe chances don’t come with limits or expectations. Maybe we all get as many as weneed.
Giving up the shadows, I round the side of the house and head in, picking up Whiskers as I go. Letting myself inside, I can’t ignore how good it feels to come to her place without hesitance, guilt, or fear. To find her sitting there waiting for me in her little spider web tights and tiny sweater with a monster movie flickering in the dark sets my world right.
“There you are,” she says the same thing she said that night at the pizza place.
“Here I am,” I shoot back with a smirk, watching her skin glow in the dim lighting of her fireplace and the television.
“Little monster passed out on me after we made your favorite cupcakes,” she whispers with a flush, and Christ is she beautiful.
“Wore the little thing out, huh?” I say softly, crossing the room to kneel on the couch beside them.
Reaching out, I brush my fingers over Hope’s hair, pulling a curl off her little face. Watching Hanna, I lift that same hand and repeat the move, pushing her hair behind her ear. I want to lean down and kiss her, and then cuddle with them both. But first I need to get us both on the same page. Scooping my little one up, I carry her down the hall, headed for the guest room I know Hanna set up a few weeks ago.
After settling Hope in one of the little beds she set up for her cousin’s kids, I close the door and head back out. When I come out, Hanna is in the kitchen, a cupcake in her hand. Unable to resist now that I have her alone and I have told her I want something sweet, I go to her.
Only I don’t want her pumpkin cupcakes—I want her sweet ass.
“Got my sweets for me?” I whisper the words against her neck and when her body vibrates against me, I smirk against her skin.
How she reacts to me, how she looks at me and shows she wants me, it makes me feel like a man again. A man who will give and do anything for a woman I am not sure I deserve. She brought me back to life and as scary as living and feeling again is, I won’t go back to how I was living for so long.
“Got something for you,” she teases and then moans when I lick at her neck, tasting the sweets I came for.
“Damn, yes you do,” I husk, nibbling at her neck as my hands cup her hips and drag her little body back against me. My cock settles against her plump ass, and I grunt. I can feel every single curve of her and how soft she is. I grab the cupcake and then lift her against me and turn her at the same time.
She gives a little noise at the sudden move, but she is on board quickly. Her thick legs wrap around me, and I back up out of the kitchen, heading for the couch. We are not alone so I can’t do all the things I want tonight, but a little necking on the couch never hurt anyone. Besides, is that not what happens in all the old slasher flicks she likes?
Doesn’t the hot babysitter behave badly before the bad guy gets her?
Sitting on the couch, I bring her astride my lap, hauling her close once I feel how needy she is for me. Almost as needy as I am for her. Her thin leggings can’t hide how hot her pussy is and when she circles it against my hard cock, I grunt and slap her ass, telling her to be good. But I never mean it when I tell her that—and she never listens anyway.
“No fair asking me to be good when you start being bad,” she whimpers, lying against my chest so her soft tits and tease me.
