Page 18 of Praise Me: Lumberjack
“Morning,” she murmurs, flashing me a smile that gets my heart pumping like crazy. “You’re even hotter before breakfast,” she whispers, starry-eyed, pushing me onto my back and straddling my hips, gasping to find me as stiff as a board, giggling into my neck and wiggling her soft pussy in my lap.
Heaven. She’s heaven, pure and simple.
How the hell did I get here?
How the hell do I stay?
“What time is it?” she asks, the words muffled, as she’s kissing her way down my throat and chest. “Do we have time to cuddle?”
“I’m starting to think we have different meanings of the word ‘cuddle.’”
Her head pops up, an adorable dimple etched into her cheek. “What doyouthink it means?”
“You know.” I take her ass in my grip, kneading that toned flesh. “A hug between two people, only they’re lying down. And it goes on for a while.”
“No, silly,” she says, kissing the underside of my chin, her cunt slicking up the full length of my cock, then riding back down.Pressing.“This is cuddling. It’s when I tease you into giving me what I want.”
“Got it,” I heave. “Now I know.”
“Now you know,” she sings, her smile imprinting on my neck. “I have the photoshoot at nine thirty and I need to be in the makeup chair by eight. I’m not going to be late, am I?”
Taking my eyes off her for a second is torture, but I turn my head to look at the clock on my bedside. “Baby. It’s eight-fifteen.”
Her eyes shoot wide. “Oh no!” She leaps off the bed in an erotic display of limbs and messy hair, and Jesus,Jesus, her body would tempt the staunchest saint. I can only shake my head in awe. “I need to go now. Will you give me a ride?”
“Of course, I will,” I say, sitting up with a wince, thanks to the hungry johnson, ready to go between my legs. I clear the pain from my throat, as much as possible. “Use my phone to call your manager. Tell him you’re running late. They can’t start without you and I’m not dropping you off on an empty stomach.” I stand up and pull her close, kissing the crown of her head, rubbing her shoulders until they relax. “If you don’t want to call them, leave it with me.”
“Leave it with you,” she whispers, swaying toward me, her cheek rubbing in my chest hair. “Leave it with Penn. Those words make me desperately happy.”
“Makes me happy to say them,” I rumble, nearly bowled over by my protectiveness. My responsibility for Jenna. The growing sensation in my chest is so overwhelming, I have to avert my eyes, fishing her panties and skirt off the floor, kneeling down to help her step into them. Handing her the tank top and watching her shimmy into it, her tits plumping in the neckline. I love serving this girl as much as I love her serving me. Damn right I’ll get on my knees for this girl who sighs at me like I’m a superhero. This girl who gave me her virginity. Trusts me. Swallows for me. Needs a guardian.
My thoughts racing a thousand miles an hour, making plans, I take her hand and guide her out of the bedroom. She looks so angelic in the sunlight that I almost drag her back upstairs—
But a scream comes from the kitchen below and my stomach lurches.
Erin drops her bowl of cereal, the porcelain shattering on the hardwood floor.
“Oh, my goodness,” whispers Jenna, hands to her pinkening cheeks.
Fuck. I woke up in such a state of dazed euphoria, I didn’t stop to consider what might happen if Jenna and Erin cross paths. Is my daughter going to be upset? Is she going to be scared or throw a tantrum or never look at me the same way again, knowing I spent the night with a woman so young?
“It’s Hey Betty,” she says in a high-pitched voice. “Hey Betty is in my house!”
I remember what Jenna told me last night about wanting to leave her sitcom days in the past, so I study her, wondering how she’s going to handle Erin’s exclamation. But instead of getting annoyed or being disappointed, she transforms into her famous character, right in front of my very eyes and delivers her catchphrase flawlessly.
“If you’re serving up trouble, I’ll take double.”
Erin screams again, but this time it’s piercing and full of joy.
Jenna bounds down the stairs toward my daughter, not with her seductive walk, but with a casual, friendly stride that I recognize vaguely from my television screen. “Hi Erin, nice to meet you,” she says, stooping down and opening her arms, laughing when Erin runs straight into them and bowls her over, landing Jenna on her butt.
“Dad, it’s Hey Betty! Oh my God! What is she doing here?” Her wide eyes tick between me and Jenna. “What are you doing here?”
“Well.” Jenna pulls back with a brilliant smile. “I’m in town working and I ran into your dad. He told me you were a big fan, so I thought I’d stop by and meet you.” She gives Erin’s hair an affectionate stroke. “You can call me Jenna, if you want. That’s my real name.”
“Jenna.” Erin nods, hypnotized. “Okay.”
I’m in the kitchen now, unrolling half the damn paper towel roll to clean up the spilled cereal, but I can’t take my eyes off Jenna. How natural she is with Erin. How sweet. How Erin looks at Jenna likes she’s her lord and savior.
