Page 20 of Single Dad Dilemma

He looks over at me with a lift of his brow.

“We’re ignoring it?” I say as I wait for him to comment, but all he does is nod. “I mean, you have a lot going on. You just moved and bought this place, you’re trying to start up a company, and you have Margo. Starting a relationship should be the last of your worries. Not to mention, Margo is young. We don’t want our bad choices to cause her any pain in the future. I think what’s best is just to put it behind us.”

He clears his throat. “I couldn’t have said it any better myself,” he agrees.

I nod once. “Good. Glad we’re on the same page. Now, do you want to watch a real scary movie?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood by being playful and smiling.

He laughs. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

“I’ve always loved theNightmare on Elm Streetseries.”

“Really?” he asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Yeah. I mean, you can run from killers like Jason and Michael, but you can’t run from Freddy. Everyone has to sleep some time.”

I shrug. “I guess I never really thought of it like that.”

He pulls up a streaming movie channel and searches for it, finding the first one.

“Yes! This one is my favorite. Young Johnny Depp, yes sir,” I joke and he laughs.

I kick off my boots and pull my feet up onto the couch, getting comfy. The two of us sit, watching the movie and drinking beer after beer. Halfway through the movie, I find myself leaning more toward the middle, and I don’t think anything of it—not until I notice him do the same thing a little while later. But we’ve been sitting upright on this couch for hours now. I’m sure he’s just getting to be as uncomfortable as I am.

By the end of the movie, I find myself lying back, resting my head against the arm rest with my butt and feet in the middle. He’s leaned over on his side now, head resting on his fist and his elbow against the couch. His arm is almost touching my leg, and I can somehow feel the heat coming off of it.

The credits roll, and the living room gets darker. Neither of us move to shut off the TV. I’m feeling good and relaxed, finally comfortable and in no rush to move. I’m tired from getting up so early and staying up late for the second night in a row. I have a feeling it’s going to take a Mack Truck to get me off this couch.

He turns his head and looks up at me, his eyes finding mine in the darkness. The air between us seems to grow thick again, something I’m finding happening more and more when we’releft alone. I don’t know how to pull away. I only know that I should. But why? I suddenly can’t remember.

I don’t know how the space between us gets smaller and smaller. I don’t move. But the next thing I know, his lips are against mine. His body is half covering mine, pressing me into the couch cushions. His tongue swirls with mine, and the longer we kiss, the further it goes. His hands start out on my hips, but they slowly move over my body, my jaw, my neck, my shoulder, my side, inching closer and closer to my breast, but never touching it.

It’s almost like he wants to, but something is holding him back. It’s like he’s dancing along a line. Once that line is crossed, we can never go back. He wants to, and I want to, but do we really want to? Knowing that we can’t ever go back? Is it worth it? Will we come out on the other side better, stronger? Or will we both end up lost, not knowing how to move on?

He lets out a deep growl, like he’s suddenly giving in and tired of fighting. His hand lands on my breast, lightly squeezing it as he uses his hips to push my legs apart. He slides down between them, his hips pressing against a part of my body I haven’t thought about in a long time. I can feel how hard he is as he strains against his jeans, pressing against me. I can feel the sudden change between us. Once guarded and unsure, now we’re throwing caution to the wind.

I know I should stop this, but he feels too good pressed against me. My hands come between us, and they begin pushing his shirt up his stomach. He lifts himself up just enough to pull the shirt up higher. Reaching behind him, he yanks it off from the back. I hear the threads popping and snapping, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Our lips are only parted for a moment, but it gives me all the time I need to see what he’s been hiding. His biceps are big, as are his pecs. It’s easy to see how much he takes care of himself.His abs are hard and rippling, and he has just the smallest amount of hair on his belly button that trails down below his pants.

His lips are back on mine in an instant, and his hands seem more persistent this time. They’re pushing my shirt up my stomach, and I raise my arms so he can pull it off. The moment he does, his lips don’t come back to mine. Instead, they fall to kiss the swell of my breasts. He pulls the cups of my bra away, sucking my nipple into his mouth. It immediately hardens and tingles with pleasure.

We’re both panting and breathless when he pulls away. His dark eyes find mine. “Can I take you upstairs?” he asks in a hushed whisper.

I don’t speak, unable to trust my voice, so I nod.

He picks me up against him, and our mouths find one another again as he carries me up the stairs and into his room. The room is dark but smells of him. The scent is rich and thick and woodsy. He places me on the bed, and his scent is only stronger here. The blankets are thick, and the pillows are fluffy. It’s like a bed that you only find in a nice hotel. Soft, comfy, and perfect.

Now that’s we’re hidden away in his dark room, he leans back on his knees and unfastens his pants. I make quick work of removing the rest of my clothing. We both somehow finish at the same time, and before I know it, we’re crashing together, lips, hands, and legs, all tangled around each other. His hips are between my legs, and his erection is hard as it presses against my core. His hands are moving all over, touching all of me at once, my hips, my waist, my breasts, his strokes alternating between firm grasps to light caress.es

I lift my hips, enjoying the feeling of his soft tip running between my wet folds. Both his hands come down on my hips, holding them still. The moment he trusts me not to move themagain, one hand falls away. He takes himself in hand and guides himself into me, filling me. It must be just as overwhelming for him as it is me because he keeps pausing. Every time I think he’s all the way in, he pushes in more. I feel almost painfully full, but I’m sure it’s just from lack of anyone being inside of me in so long.

Finally, I feel his hips touch against me, and I know that it really is the last stretch. He still doesn’t move though. He holds completely still, adjusting to my tightness and heat.

“Fuck, Violet,” he whispers against my lips. “You’re so fucking tight, I want to come right now.” He rocks his hips, and his tip finds that perfect spot that has me letting out a soft moan.

“Please, don’t stop,” I beg, needing more.

His lips find mine, and he pulls his hips back, slamming them into me. I dig my nails into his back as I moan into his mouth, already ready to fall apart. He wraps one arm around my back, like he’s hugging me to him, but it lifts my hips up at an angle that is perfect and delicious. He uses that arm to pull me back into his thrusts, making them feel harder and more powerful.

---