Fuck, I’d love to have her under me as I dared her to use her sassy mouth. My cock doesn’t know this isn’t the time or the place, because he’s ready for action.
I laugh to myself while I make my way upstairs to undress and shower.
My hand is very well acquainted with my cock. I feel like I’m twelve-year-old again with how easily and frequently I’m getting hard.
I shower in record time, even with squeezing one off. I put on shorts and a shirt, not bothering with my hair.
Once I make it to their door, I smell the corn bread. Knocking, I wait for her to answer. I would just walk in, but I don’t think we are there yet.
When she opens the door, I see she has tied her hair up on top of her head, making her look even younger than she is.
“Ackson, look, I set table.” Lilah runs around the table so she can show me what she did.
The table is set with a white tablecloth and pink napkins. “Is that your favorite color, princess?” I ask her.
She nods yes while she runs back in the kitchen, returning with two pink plastic cups. “You get one, I get one. Momma can have a glass.”
“Please come in.” She walks away from the door, and my eyes automatically make their way to her ass. It would fit perfectly in my hand.
A groan escapes me before I can take it back. She turns around and looks in my eyes. The need is there, the lust is there. Her cheeks turn a bit pink while she goes to the oven and bends down to check the corn bread.
JESUS FUCK. I tilt my head up, trying to picture Freddie Krueger and his knives getting close to me in order to get my dick to calm down.
“Oh, it’s ready,” she says as she places it on the stove. I make my way into the kitchen to see if I can help her.
“What can I do to help?” I expect her to say nothing, but she surprises me when she tells me to bring the pitcher of lemonade to the table and the crock pot.
When everything is set, she comes out with the piping hot corn bread.
“It smells so good, Bella. Thank you for inviting me.” I wink at her when her head whips back at me.
“Lilah, you have to be very, very careful. This is really, really hot. Okay, love bug? So don’t forget to blow on it before you put it in your mouth.” She gives her a small pink bowl matching her cup.
I look over at Lilah, who has climbed into her booster seat and is tucking her napkin in her shirt.
“Ackson, you habe to bow.” Lilah looks at me.
Bella serves me a big, heaping bowl. The mixture of spices hits my nose right away. My stomach grumbles loudly.
“Well then, I guess I’m hungry,” I say and watch as both girls giggle a bit before Bella finally sits down.
I look over at her when she grabs Lilah’s hand, and they both lower their heads. I grab Lilah’s hand and then Bella’s while I also lower my head.
I haven’t said grace in a long time. I think it’s time I start giving someone thanks these two came into my life.
“Amen,” Bella says while Lilah picks up her spoon, blowing so hard some chili flies off the spoon.
“Bow, Ackson,” she tells me with all the seriousness that a three-year-old can muster.
I watch as Bella reaches over to wipe her face and then helps her get the chili in her mouth. I really do have to thank someone I get to sit here with them.
Chapter Sixteen
Bella
The minute I feel his fingers hold mine, shivers run through my body. I’m nearly overcome with the need to snatch my hand back so he doesn’t feel my sweaty palms. But his grip is like a wrench holding tight to a pipe.
“Amen,” I say quietly. I don’t even think I said grace. I just wanted to snatch my hand away from him.
“This smells delicious, Bella. Doesn’t it, Lilah?” He scoops up a spoonful of chili, blowing on it first before he puts it in his mouth.
“Hmmm is good.” Comes from Lilah, who is blowing and scooping.
“So let’s get to know each other. Lilah, how old are you?” Jackson asks Lilah, who drops her spoon into her bowl and says three while showing him five fingers, several of which are covered with chili.
“You mean three.” He tries to show her how to hold down her thumb with her pinky. After ten tries, he gives up and says, “Yeah, that’s right, three. What about you, Bella?”
“I’m twenty-four going to be twenty-five,” I tell him, not making eye contact with him. I don’t want to see if he’s judging me for having Lilah at twenty-one. I know I was an adult, but I was still young.
“I’m twenty-six, almost twenty-seven.” He shares with us. Lilah is not even paying attention, though. She’s dipping the corn bread in her chili now, trying to copy Jackson.