Page 14 of A Very Grumpy Father's Day
For purposes of this agreement, “Confidential Information” shall include all information or material—past, present, or future—that has or could compromise Disclosing Party’s excellent reputation in the business in which Disclosing Party is engaged, or among his family and acquaintances, i.e. anyone who works in the legal and/or real estate business in North America, or anyone born with the surname Cannavale, Cassidy, or O’Sullivan, or anyone related to aforementioned persons by marriage. Specifically, confidential information regarding antics involving the wearing of furry costumes and the execution of awesome dances for the purpose of entertaining and endearing Disclosing Party’s progeny to him. The Disclosing Party hereby labels said incident with the word “Confidential” and potentially disastrous for his career as a hot-as-fuck lawyer daddy husband.
Under the Time Period section, it just saysFor all of fucking eternity.
He has already signed as the Disclosing Party,Declan Sullivan Cannavale, Esq. Hot As Fuck Forever.
“This all seems very much in order. If I may ask one question regarding this matter before signing?”
He sighs. “One.”
“What did you do with the Elmo costume?”
“I gave it to the doorman.”
“Rolondo? You gave it to Rolondo?”
“He has grandchildren. And that is the last we speak of it.” He hands me the notepad I keep on my bedside table to put under the contract so I have a firm foundation upon which to sign it, and then he holds out his Montblanc pen. “Please sign and date as the Receiving Party.”
I take the pen, but I don’t uncap it. “It’s just that…”
He rubs his forehead. “What?”
“What do I get out of it?”
“Besides the reassuring knowledge that your husband will be able to sleep soundly and hold his head up high after said incident?”
“Exactly.”
He loosens his tie and combs his fingers through his hair, then unbuttons his cuffs and rolls up his sleeves to expose his tanned, veiny forearms. Standard Hot-as-Fuck Attorney negotiating tactic. But he looks so tired and worn out, I’m not sure how much fun it will be playing hardball with him this time. “Well,” he says, “in addition to that, the Disclosing Party agrees to unpack the remaining boxes with you next weekend.”
“But it’s my aunt Mel’s birthday dinner next Saturday. I’ll be going to Staten Island and will require extra time to get there and back now that we live on the Upper East Side. Sunday is Father’s Day, and I’m assuming you don’t want to spend your first Father’s Day as a father unpacking boxes with your wife.”
“Understood and agreed. Disclosing Party offers to perform an extremely quick and efficient yet satisfying quickie as a signing bonus.”
“Are you negotiating nookie with me, Mr. Cannavale?”
“Yes. Sign this agreement in exchange for half an hour of uninterrupted oral pleasure. Your pleasure. Although it does please me to please you.”
“Hah! Half an hour my ass.”
“Half an hour dedicated to your gorgeous ass, then.”
“Declan.”
“Half an hour of oral pleasure dedicated to every part of your gorgeous body, followed by one satisfying but highly efficient session of intercourse with a minimum of ten vigorous thrusts, and that’s my final offer.”
“Fifteen vigorous thrusts, and you have a deal.”
“Deal.”
“Deal.” I sign the contract and then hand it and the pen back to him.
He takes them and tosses them both away as he rips off his tie and starts to unbutton his shirt.
I toss the notepad to the floor and remove my top and pants.
He lowers himself on top of me, and just the weight of him on my body is enough to make me feel wanted and safe and sexy and stimulated and all the things I’ve been needing to feel. But I still want that oral pleasure and I want all fifteen of those vigorous thrusts before Ciara wakes up. He kisses the exposed flesh of my breasts before uncovering the right one—his acknowledged favorite boob—swirling his tongue around and flicking at the nipple while massaging his runner-up favorite one.
I will never tire of the reverence he has for my entire body.
