Page 3 of Bang

Idon’t bother texting Eden to let her know I’m almost home. She doesn’t have her phone with her, never paying any attention to her messages when she’s taking care of our son. Where I should have been with her—I glance at the time on my screen—more than thirty minutes ago. Damn.

I miss dinner too much and bedtime too often. Thank fuck she’s such a devoted mother, since she parents by herself too damn many nights. I berate myself for fucking up although she never does, somehow still loving me despite my numerous flaws without ever criticizing me.

I tap out a few last orders while we idle, waiting for the gates to swing open, and then wind up the long driveway to the front door. Violating my own protocol, I hop out and stride inside not giving Patrick and Keene the chance to do a quick perimeter check before I enter the house. I’ll bear the risk of aerial assassins to get to my family that much sooner.

Their laughter greets me as I hustle inside and despite my desire to get to them immediately, I watch for a minute from the entryway. Louis sprawls across a huge piece of white paper, giggling and wiggling while Eden traces the outline of his small body. She draws around his head of thick hair as black as mine, down his arms, between each finger, with an extra tickle when she reaches his armpit.

Attempting to keep him from rolling away in his laughing fit and messing up the picture, she palms his chest. “Hold on, buddy. I’m almost done.”

“But it tickles Mommy!”

Her grin matches his, and she nods yet continues to sketch up and down his legs, under his feet, and back to the other side until his silhouette fills the sheet.

“Do you want to write your name yourself?”

With her suggestion that he infers as a challenge, he scrambles up and grabs a blue crayon. Painstakingly slow, he creates each letter with squiggly lines that drift uphill before slanting down with the crooked s at the end. Of course, once he finishes, she praises him for his skills and reminds him of how proud I will be when I see what a good job he’s done.

God I fucking love her. Still idolizing me to him no matter how much I fail her. “She’s right. I’m very proud, Louis.”

“Daddy!”

Pure excitement floods his tanned face from hearing my voice, and he races to me like a maniac. I’m just as thrilled to see my son and meet him half-way, hugging him tight before I toss him in the air a few times, making him shriek with exhilaration. Then I clutch him to my chest, inhaling his innocent clean scent, until he begins to squirm. Eager to slide down and show me their project.

My wife seems just as elated, reaching for me as soon I entangle from our energetic child. I grasp her close, breathing her in and releasing all my stress from her delicate body molded to mine. “I missed you, wisp.”

“I missed you too. I’m glad you’re home.”

Two simple sentiments that instantly right my tilted world again.

“Look! We made this for my birthday! It’s so I can remember how big I was when I turned five.”

Clumsy fingers swipe the drawing off the tile, wrinkling the sheet in his tight grip and kicking at the bottom when he runs with his urgency to show me their craft. Eden helps raise the top to keep him from shredding through the edge with his sneakers, and he grins my favorite gap-toothed grin, pointing out all his body parts with a big flourish at the end for his signature.

“Now it’s your turn so we can remember how big you were when you were…”

His eyes roll up to gaze at the ceiling in concentration, uncertain of the number. I shake my head. “Ladies first. Let’s remember how big your momma was when she was twenty-six.”

“Okay!”

His portrait hits the floor in his haste to sprint toward the huge roll of paper. He drops to his knees and pushes the spool out about fifteen feet.

“Do you think that’s enough Daddy?”

I wink at my gorgeous wife who hides her own smile from the amount more than three times her size spread on the thick brown carpet before I nod in approval. “I think it’ll do.”

Uncertain if she’s indulgent for him or for me, Eden laughs her genuine laugh and lays down with much less wiggling than my boy.

“Mommy loves pink so we’ll trace her in pink.”

“Sounds good. You do the top and I’ll do the bottom and we’ll meet in the middle.”

Even more particular than writing his name, since he’s tracing the woman he worships almost as much as I do, he slowly traces around her head. Careful and gentle because even at four years old, Louis knows how fragile his mother is. After watching him for a few seconds, I start at her hip, making sure I brush between her thighs with my free hand to caress her pussy with promises of what’s to come after Louis is tucked into bed later.

Ensuring he doesn’t bust me fondling his momma, I travel down her legs and earn another throaty moan when I massage her tiny feet. I’ll show them attention tonight too. She deserves me spoiling the hell out of her after what she has to put up with being married to me.

We meet back at her opposite side and our son can’t resist giving her a tickle this time. Laughing deep from his belly, he stretches to grab her when she giggles and squirms to get away. He’s too slow to catch her but I encircle her narrow waist and haul her to her feet. Enveloping her back to my chest, I trap her against me while Louis wiggles his fingers with threats of more torture.

I run my nose up her cheek and into her hair, brushing her ear with my lips. “Do you know how bad I want to fuck you right now?”

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