Page 34 of Then Came You

No explanation could have prepared me for the tapestry of art inked on his body, or the masculine hair that dots his chest, leading to a thick trail to his cock. I’m not familiar with a 40-something year old male body, but I’m pretty sure Blade's sinewy muscles aren't the norm.

I find all the tattoos he mentioned earlier, tracing my tongue along the ridges and lines of the artwork. I roam the labyrinth of tattoos that each tell a story, brushing my lips over his pecs with the holy imagery, and bite down the lattice of his biceps and forearms that map out a world of science.

The best part is when I reach the Eve, apple and snake imagery pointing straight to his long, thick, throbbing cock. Pushing down the sheet below his impressive, coloured thighs, I purr at the sight of the most forbidden tattoo of them all. After a good throat fuck, he places me on all fours and licks me from behind, this time experimenting with another forbidden hole. By the time he’s finished, I can’t feel my legs, stop seizing, or remember how many orgasms I’ve had from his skilful hands and tongue.

Sometime later, I collapse on his chest and fall asleep easily with his arms wrapped around me. Caged and content in the strength and comfort of his arms, I drift peacefully off to sleep, with a wide smile crested on my lips.

♥?

Waking up the following morning feels surreal. I’m used to either waking up starving, or shivering from the lack of heat - and that’s on a good day. On a bad day, I’m either being abused in every sense of the word, or removing a needle from Mum’s arm.

Today, none of those things occurred. Today, I woke up to another mind-crippling orgasm, had a hot shower, and am now being given breakfast options by a devilish, handsome half naked man.

“I have to pick up Haven in an hour or so. Are pancakes okay?” He asks, already starting to prep the batter.

“Pancakes are great. They’re me and Tori’s go-to food,” I gush, leaning my chin on my palm as I stare at him dreamily. I look like a cross between a drowned rate, exhausted pigeon, and raccoon, but when he looks at me, he has the same goofy expression I do.

“Oh yeah, why?” He quizzes about my love of pancakes. I don’t tell him it’s because they’re cheap and filling, and the only thing we can afford to make when our stove is working. I also leave out the fact that we eat them dry because we can’t afford fresh fruit or syrup.

“They’re fluffy and basically cake for breakfast.” I inflate the truth.

“Mmm true. What would you like on them or in them? I Can make banana choc-chip, peanut butter, or you can spread Nutella on them, or syrup. I think there are some fresh berries in the fridge too.” He jerks his head toward his hidden compliance, which is still blowing my mind.

Actually, everything he said overwhelms me. I’ve never in my life been given a choice like this. I don’t want to be greedy, but I kind of do, because my stomach is starving for all the choices he just presented to me. As if on cue, it growls like a grizzly bear. “So, all of the above then?” he chuckles, whisking the batter, which acts as a new favourite form of foreplay for me.

“Anything you make will be fine,” I say politely. It’s true, anything is a step up from plain pancakes.

Twenty minutes later, the aroma of freshly cooked pancakes fills the air as we sit around the bench top. My fork glides through the fluffy stake, the edges of the pancakes slightly crisp and golden. I impale a piece with my fork, dipping it into oozing milk chocolate until it’s completely coated. The moment I lift the fork to my mouth and wrap my lips around the prongs, my taste buds dance at the overindulgent deliciousness.

The light morning conversation is easy, as we talk about all the different hair colours I’ve sported over the years. When we’ve both hit sugar-coma level, I insist on helping him pack away.

Blade leaves me in the open living space while he goes to retrieve a clean shirt for me to wear. As I stare at the backyard, I wonder what it would be like to wake up to this view every day. If it was mine, I don’t think I’d ever willingly leave for work.

I hear the pitter patter of feet shuffling closer. “So, are you working on Saturday?” he asks, hugging me from behind, resting his chin in the crook of my neck, as I stare in awe overlooking the Harbour. I nod my head in response. “Good. Do you think it’s okay if Haven and I come by? She has something she wants to ask you.”

Is it too soon? We haven’t even discussed the state of our relationship, and now suddenly I am to build one with his daughter? Anxiety whips through me.

I’m glad he can’t see my face covered in fear over his words. I stand statuesque, my heart quickening while my breath hitches. I want nothing more than to leap into exploring whatever this is with him, but I’m not sure I’m mother material. I love kids, but I haven’t been around them since I was a kid myself, and I don’t know if I’m even cut out to be one, or if I should even have them. It’s a fear I’ve internalised, because the thought of turning out like my Mum and failing as a parent, cripples me.

Since we began speaking, I’ve loved hearing bits and pieces about Blade’s children, but that’s very different from actually meeting one of them.

I already know I’m punching above my weight, and I’m sure they’ll think so too when they meet me.

“Row?” Blade squeezes me to his chest.

Maybe I’m overthinking it. I’m most definitely overthinking it. It’s not like he’s asking me to be her step-mum. He’s probably just going to ask me to cut her hair. Anything beyond that, and I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

“Sure. I’ll be there from eight.” The words come out shaky, but my apprehensive tone is missed by Blade, who is beaming from ear to ear. He can’t contain his excitement, and his body practically vibrates with energy at my response.

I wish I could feel as excited as he does, but all I feel is genuine dread that I won’t meet his or Haven’s expectations.

Chapter 14

Row

Today is the day I meet Haven, and I'm a bundle of nerves.

The panic over their impending arrival is squeezing my chest.

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