Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
“How was work, Daddy?” I ask in an innocent tone.
Bart’s big hand reaches down to squeeze my ample rear-end and he chuckles, blue eyes sparkling.
“Better, now that I’m home,” he growls. “What’s for dinner tonight?”
I let go and bustle over to our utility kitchen.
“Oh my gosh, said just like a man! But there’s chicken pot pie, as well as mashed potatoes, green beans, and some of the leftover candied yams from yesterday. Plus apple pie for dessert,” I hum.
“Perfect, baby,” Bart growls as he hangs up his jacket. “The plant was busy today, so I need some real food that’ll stick to my ribs.”
“Oh, this will do that, no problem,” I promise, serving him a heaping portion of steaming pot pie. “I made this from scratch. Well, not totally scratch,” I amend. “I used frozen pastry crust from the store, but the insides are from scratch.”
My man sits at the table, before pulling me into his lap with a fond growl.
“Your cooking is always delicious, Christy,” he rumbles. “And I love you for it.”
“Oh you!” I say with a giggle, swatting at his big forearm with a dishtowel. “Always full of compliments. But I love you too.”
Then with a kiss, I get up. Meanwhile, Bart swallows a huge forkful of pot pie before closing his eyes and moaning. Literally, the man lets out a groan like a bear that’s found a hidden stash of honey.
“Shit baby,” he rasps. “Delicious. Almost as good as your cunt nectar.”
I shriek with laugher again.
“You’re such a dirty old man, Bart! How in the world did I end up with a boyfriend like you?” But then, my expression becomes secretive. “But guess what? Remember my friend Vanessa Loudon from Hartsville?”
Bart pops another forkful of pot pie into his mouth.
“That girl? How could I forget?”
“I know, I know,” I say. “I lied and said I was going to the movies with her when I was actually going to meet John Elliston. But Vanessa’s in a bit of a pickle now because it turns out that her stepfather’s lost his job!”
Bart looks down at his plate, shaking his head.
“Hartsville is going down the tubes,” he murmurs. “That place is so economically depressed that it reminds me of a third world country. Everyone should move away before getting caught in the downward spiral.”
I nod.
“Yes, but Vanessa’s been doing really well at her job, and so she’s offered to pay her stepfather’s mortgage, actually.”
Bart looks up again.
“What does she do for a living? How old is she again?”
I shrug.
“My age. And I think she’s in real estate. I mean, there’s practically no barrier to entry, and she’s always been really good at numbers and figures. But the thing is that Vanessa’s offered to pay her stepfather’s mortgage with a catch – he has to pop her cherry for her.”
That makes my boyfriend put down his fork. Bart shoots me a hard stare.
“Are you kidding?”
I shake my head.
“No, not at all. It’s just like us, right? I mean, we were in a precarious financial position once, and I tried to save us by working at the five and dime. But Vanessa’s in another league,” I say. “She’s a girl who knows what she wants, and she wants the man of the house bad.”
Bart merely shakes his dark head with wonder.
“Who knew young women were so devious these days?” he asks. “Much less successful? And who knew that so many of them were into older men?”
I laugh lightly.
“I think the older man younger woman thing has been around a long time. No one really wants to date a teenage boy, or even a college guy for that matter. They have pimples, greasy hair, and horrendous hygiene. There’s nothing sexy about that.”
My stepfather fixes me with his blue eyes.
“So you find an older man with a couple gray hairs sexier than a young buck with no responsibilities?”
“Yes, absolutely,” I say with a secret smile. “Especially since you’re about to get the biggest responsibility ever: I’m having a baby, Bart. You’re going to be a daddy!”
The handsome man stares at me for a moment, dumbstruck. But then he sweeps me into his arms before pressing those sensuous lips against mine.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he rasps. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Imagine that: a baby!” His hand goes down to gently caress the swell of my stomach. “How far along are you?”