Page 147 of Painted Scars
I hold my hands over his ears and whisper, “Dick hard and ready. Not to be poked with forks.”
Kate arms herself with a fork and admires the maple syrup drizzled over her strawberry-topped pancakes. “I hope you didn’t get bacon burns under the apron. I’ll have to kiss said dick better.”
Fuck. I harden further. I want her mouth on me. Right. Fucking. Now.
I cover the dog’s ears again. “Not in front of the child. You’re getting a spanking for that.”
She excitedly wriggles her free fingers. “Brat mode engaged.”
I dip and take her lips in a quick kiss instead, my dick protesting. “Eat up, Glitter Bomb. I’ve got more surprises in store once you finish.”
She sneaks a slice of strawberry on her fork. “Are they edible?”
I chuckle and settle in beside her. “You’ll have to find out.”
I tear off a small fragment of bacon and lift it to her lips, and she slowly sucks it into her mouth.
“King Daddy’s full of surprises today, isn’t he?” She feeds the dog a small piece of meat.
She’s beautiful in the light. Makeup-free. Technicolor hair in waves down her back. Silky nightgown clinging to her curves.
“Come here, Daddy.” She lifts a slice of pancake for me.
I lean in and open for her, accepting this sugar-coated heaven.
“Good Daddy.” Her eyes sparkle.
PJ3 gets jealous at the lack of attention, and I feed him a portion. “No more. Salty meat is bad for dogs.”
“Oh, don’t be such a grouch, Daddy. We might die tomorrow. Live a little.” Kate brushes the back of my head and curls her fingers into my hair. She hasn’t stopped touching it since I’ve removed my helmet.
The terrier barks, sharp and demanding, backing her up. We don’t negotiate in this house, we stage coups.
I pet his head instead of overworking his kidneys with sodium. “I’ve put serial killers away with less attitude.”
PJ3 yaps again. Yeah, not happening.
I tear a strip of bacon and coat her lips in the grease I’ll lick clean. “For the warrior queen who survived.”
She sinks her teeth into it, slowly drawing it into her mouth and chewing with a teasing smile. When she swallows, I flick my tongue on her lips and taste her and the salty bacon. She groans and presses her mouth harder into me.
“Your turn, King Daddy.” She spears a strawberry, swirls it in syrup, and lifts it to my lips.
I open for her and let her slide it into my mouth and wrap my lips around her fork, sucking hard. Jesus, this is going to turn spicy in seconds if we keep this up, but I don’t care.
I fork a fluffy triangle of pancake and nudge it in her direction. “Open for me, brat.”
“You’re such a feeder.” She does as she’s told but has to get the last word in.
I curl my hand over PJ3’s ears. “It’s my job to feed you, keep you safe, warm, and sexed up.”
She hums her agreement. “I love vengeance served with fried eggs and orgasms.”
My Glitter Bomb demolishes the breakfast I feed her like she hasn’t eaten in days… and she hasn’t been on a regular meal schedule since her sleazy boss ignited Armageddon. I love watching her eat. Love that she doesn’t pick at her food like a bird.
I can’t look away from her syrup and grease-glossed lips. I can get used to mornings like this. Her like this. Every damn day, if the world lets us. I hope our story goes off book and we get our happy ending until we’re old and cranky, arguing over syrup brands.
“Up for a hike this morning?” I grab the tea towel and start drying the breakfast dishes she’s scrubbing in soapy water.
