Page 12 of Clean Sweep
I pushed away all thoughts of that soul-destroying woman and concentrated back on Laura. Her curves, her smile, the way she cooed to Ulf when she'd held him while I fed Leif over lunch. We'd returned and she'd helped me get the boys settled, clear out the guest room where she was temporarily staying, and then we'd sat outside watching the sunset while I'd grilled some burgers and we'd enjoyed the unusually warm Spring night.
She'd arrived a day early thanks to Liv's hapless assistant mixing up their flights.
Thank you, God.
I slipped a hand down, fisting my cock and biting back a groan as I imagined Laura walking into this room, a cotton dress swishing about her knees, a knowing grin on her face.
If she were here, I'd order her to strip, watching as her beautiful breasts bounced free. I'd get her to crawl up the bed, then drag my lips down her body, tasting and teasing until she was a rosy, flushed squirming mess of desire.
I fisted harder, knowing I was close as I tilted my head back, imaging her taste, imagining her whimpers, hot with need for a woman I'd only met hours before.
A fractured cry stopped my desire with the power of a car crash. I swore, immediately throwing back my bed sheets and rolling to my feet as Leif's cries filtered through the baby monitor.
I hiked up my sweat pants, grimacing as I readjusted, my hard as a rock cock. It ached in protest.
I know buddy. I get it. Cockblocked. Again. Fudge.
I made my way to my kids' room, trying to think of things like poop-y diapers and baby vomit to get the monster hard-on to ease. It helped. Just.
Leif lay in his bed, his little hands clenched, his screams loud and angry.
"I know, little man, I'm here." I cooed, picking him up and pulling him to my chest. "The world is an angry and terrible place. Tell Daddy all about it."
I did the familiar parent bounce, trying to comfort my crying son as I figured out what was wrong.
Diaper is fine. Temperature feels good. He ate an hour ago so should be good. Gas?
I laid a hand on his little back, rubbing gently as he continued to protest.
"Is he okay?" the sleepy voice asked quietly from the door.
I turned, and immediately regretted looking. My hard-on roared back to life. Two-and-a-bit years of sex deprivation had regressed my libido to fourteen-year-old Erik.
Hubba hubba.
If this were a cartoon, my eyes would have bulged out of my head, my tongue rolling right to the floor.
Laura was stunning.
She wore tiny sleep pants and a long shirt. Her breasts were free under the material and I could just see the outline of her nipples.
Jesus man, you're a father now. Get your mind out of the gutter.
But I couldn't. I really, really fucking couldn't. I wanted to kiss up her curvy legs, wanted to fuck those tits and cum all over her body. I wanted to taste between her legs until she shattered then do it all over again.
I must have given myself away as awareness spiked in the room. Her gorgeous nipples hardened under my gaze, a delicious blush coloring her cheeks.
"D-did you want a hand?" She asked, crossing both arms over her ample chest and blocking my view.
Yes please.
I mentally chastised myself for the barrage of mental images of exactly where I wanted Laura's hand to go.
"I think we're good," I said, regretfully. "Thanks though."
Just as I said it, Murphy's Law kicked in and Ulf began to stir breaking the tension.
"Shi—shoot," I sighed. "Actually, would love a hand. Can you take Ulf? He normally only wants a cuddle."
