I call it “taking the day off.”
Ignore the fact that you got escorted out of your place of work twenty-four hours ago.
Ignore the fact that your dad texted you to tell you that you’re not allowed back in the hospital until you, and I quote, “grow up.”
I’m taking the day off.
I put on a wet suit and go for a long swim on the bayside. I cook. I meditate. I catch up on emails and try to ignore the nagging feeling of dread.
And, about halfway through the day, I decide to pay Kenzi a visit.
She’s hard to catch on the phone. Takes her forever to respond to texts, and forget about calling, she won’t pick up. So I decide to play it old-school. I show up on her front door and knock.
Lucky me, she opens the door. And, fuck. She looks cute. She’s messy-cute, which just so happens to be my favorite kind of cute. She’s wearing an oversized green patterned Christmas sweater and a pair of sweatpants. Her dark hair is pulled back in this messy pigtail, small tuffs poking out at odd angles.
When she sees me, her jaw falls. “I thought you were UPS.”
“Disappointed?” I ask.
“No…obviously not. Uh, come in.”
She opens the door and lets me inside. I shake off my jacket, which has flakes of snow on it, and hang it over the back of one of her kitchen chairs. “Where is everyone?”
“Pearl took Otto for his dialysis,” Kenzi says. “And I’m…doing laundry…”
The way she says it, her voice sounds a million miles away. I can see why cleaning up is a task. There’s a dauntingly large pile of clothes on the couch.
“You need a hand?”
She bites her bottom lip. “Yeah. Sure.”
I scoop up a pile of folded shirts and help her carry it into her bedroom. The house is a bit of a disaster zone, but that’s what kids do. They shake everything around. Still, Kenzi seems distracted, and she rapidly tries to pick up a little, kicking toys into corners and cleaning off the counter space. When we get into her room, immediately, she swipes a pile of dirty clothes off the floor and shoves them into the bathroom.
“I’m sorry,” she says, “the house isn’t always like this.”
“I like it how it is,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes and closes the bathroom door. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“I’m taking the day off.” If you say it enough times, it must be true. Slowly, I set her folded clothes down on top of her dresser. “Actually, there was something I wanted to run by you…”
“I’m all ears.”
“So my parents are having this family dinner thing on Friday. I want you to come.”
Her eyebrows hike up her forehead. “What…like…with your family?”
“Exactly like that.”
“Will Mr. King be there?”
“He is my dad. So. Yes.”
“No, I know. Of course. I just…” She rakes her fingers through her hair, looking distracted again. “I’ll have to see. Everything is so busy lately. With Otto doing dialysis, I really don’t want to leave him alone for long periods of time…”
“It’ll just be dinner. We can bring you back before your pumpkin rots.” I sit on the edge of her bed so I can better look up at her. “Unless there’s something else on your mind…”
I can’t get over the way her lips thin when she concentrates—she always looks angry when she’s focused, which should not be as charming as it is.
My heart cracks open, and there’s nothing I want to do more than scoop her up in my arms and feel the soft warmth of her against me.
Fuck. I’m such a sucker.
Finally, she drops her arms and says, “It just seems…like a girlfriend activity.”
“I guess.”
“And I think things are good as they are right now, you know? Without putting labels on them.”
She won’t look me in the eyes when she speaks, though. Inwardly, I feel a pinch of fear.
We’re in two different places. I want to move forward. And she wants things to stay exactly where they are. Eventually, this is going to be a problem, and the knowledge is enough to make me start to panic.
I try to see things her way. I try to meet her halfway. “You can come as a friend, then. No pressure.”
Those vibrant green eyes connect with mine. She hesitates, then steps forward close to me. “Look…I lived alone for a really long time. For years, it was just me and Otto. What you’re offering is really sweet, and I want to be open to it. But the truth is, I liked it. I like doing things on my own. I want to do my own laundry and open my own doors and…well…”
“And…?”
“And, sometimes, I want to get myself off. On my own.”
A slow grin draws up my mouth. “So that’s what this is about.”
“It’s not funny!”
“No. It’s not. Sorry. Hey.” I cup her face. “We don’t have to put labels on it. Okay? No sweat.”
“I’m sorry. It was really sweet of you to invite me.”
“I’m a sweet guy.”
“You’re too sweet.”
“Not that sweet.” To prove my point, I catch her bottom lip between my teeth. She gasps.
That noise shoots a jolt straight to my cock. I get an idea.
I kick off my shoes and climb onto the bed. I slip my fingers through her hair, kiss her, and murmur, “Get in my lap.”
“What are you doing?”
“Compromising.”
She does, straddling me. I love the feel of her—her gentle weight.
I kiss underneath her ear. Her throat. And I murmur there, “Show me how you do it.”
“Do what?”
“Pleasure yourself.”
She bites her own lip.
She slips her hand down her belly, and I watch her fingers vanish underneath her sweatpants.
Her sweatpants are baggy—I can’t see the way her fingers are strumming her sex, but I imagine it must be good because her eyelids flutter. Her breath catches suddenly, as though she hit a particularly pleasurable spot. That sound nearly makes me break out of my pants.
But I don’t. I’m aching, but it’s a sweet ache—I love this. I love the way Kenzi looks wrapped up in ecstasy, and I want to savor every second of this. I slip my hands up her legs, which tighten around my hips in response.
She’s so worked up. Her head bows, and she hiccups her breaths, rapid, sweet gasps.
I push her further. I tease her and nibble the sensitive skin on her throat. I draw a hand up her body and tug her sweater over her head. Her pigtail falls messily as I tug the sweater from her and toss it to the ground. I cup her soft breast in my hand and drag my thumb over her hardened nipple. I can tell she’s sensitive, because the small touch makes her shudder.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her, “do you know that?”
She drops her head against mine. “I need you inside of me,” she moans. Her voice is breathy.
I don’t need to be told twice. I need it, too.
I unbuckle my pants. I wiggle them off my hips as far as they’ll go and tug my cock out of my briefs. I’m so aroused that even the small touch of my own hand makes the whole organ buzz.
I reach into my wallet and tug out a condom. I free the latex from its plastic and stretch it down my length. Kenzi watches the process and wets her lips with the tip of her tongue—she looks hungry, and I’m ready to satisfy her.
I tug her sweatpants and panties from her hips, and she squirms to get them off her legs. Once she’s free, she climbs in closer. I guide my tip between her nether lips and sink myself into her heat. She moans and lowers her hips, taking me in deeper. Slowly, she slides down me until I’m buried inside of her, and she’s snug in my lap.
I take the side of her face in my hand and kiss her. I swallow her tongue in my mouth. She’s sloppy, breathless, and she starts to grind herself in small thrusts in my lap.
“Don’t stop touching yourself,” I murmur against her lips.
She wets her lips. “There’s a…uh. Vibrator. In the bedside drawer.”
Her cheeks flush pink as she says it.
But I don’t want her to be embarrassed. I want her to be free to tell me what she needs—because nothing in the world is hotter.
I slip my thumb over her bottom lip. “Show me how you use it.”
She breaks into a shy grin. “Okay…”
She reaches into the bedside drawer, hand fumbling around for a bit, then pulls out a sleek, silver vibrator.
She moves her hand back between her legs, underneath her dark little patch of hair. I watch her nestle the silver bullet against her slit and right over her needy clit. She clicks a button and, when the thing jolts to life, she whimpers like it hurts her. “Fuck, I’m so sensitive,” she swears.
“Can you take it?”
“Yes…”
She rubs her toy over her slippery lips, settling into the vibrations. I can feel the low hum of it and, every now and then, it brushes against the base of me. It’s intense, and good, and it pulls a moan from me.
Kenzi shudders in my lap, growing tighter around me. She’s getting closer, nearing her edge, and watching her dissolve into a frenzy is bringing me toward my peak as well. My own orgasm builds, and every little rut of her hips makes me dig my heels into the mattress. But I hold off. I want to wait for her.
“Faster, baby,” I tell her.
She whimpers and clicks a button, quickening the vibrators. Her breath comes in gasps. She clings to me, and I scoop the back of her head in my hand and crush her lips against mine.
She cries out into my mouth, and her sex clenches around me tightly, followed by quick pulses. She rides out her orgasm, rocking in my lap, moaning softly. I lift my hips to meet hers, and when I let myself go, it feels like an afterthought.
The trust in her eyes. The moans from her lips. Those are the moments I savor. My orgasm feels almost secondary.
She clicks the vibrator off, tosses it to the mattress, and pants. Those green eyes of hers look hazy, like she just woke up from a great dream. She grins.
“God. You’re good at that.”
“You’re a vision,” I tell her.
There’s a moment between us. I’m still inside of her, and she’s wrapped up against me, and we practically share the same body like this. I feel spilled open.
“I love you,” I tell her. It just comes out.
Kenzi looks down at me, and her eyebrows knit, like I’m speaking a different language. She opens her mouth, but—
Then we both hear the front door unlock, and Otto’s small feet racing inside.
“Shit!” Kenzi says under her breath. In a second, she jumps off me and grabs her clothes, yanking them on. I follow suit.
“You have to go,” Kenzi says. “They can’t see you here.”
“Your mom knows about me, right?” Kenzi gives me a look, and that’s all the answer I need. “Ah. You want me to hide in the closet or something?”
Kenzi’s eyes flit to the window, then back to me. Her mouth in an apologetic grimace.
“Seriously?” I ask.
“I’m so sorry…I just…this isn’t a conversation I want to have with Otto, you know?”
As if on cue, the kid starts calling out, “Mum?”
“Go,” Kenzi says, her voice urgent.
Copy that. I open up the window. My jacket it downstairs, but—c’est la vie, I guess it’s taking one for the team. I’m halfway on the tree branch, halfway in her window, when I glance back and add, “I’ll climb out the window. One condition.”
“What?”
“Come to my parents dinner this weekend?”
“Yes!” she says, exasperated. “Fine! Now leave!”
“Sweet.” I wink. “See you later.”
And then I drop, shimmying down the tree. My car is parked across the street, so I slide into it and warm it up.
I got up and out of there so fast, my condom is still clinging to me. Awkwardly, I reach into my pants, snap it off, and put it…where?
There’s an old coffee cup sitting in the console. Sure.
A minute ago, I was telling Kenzi I loved her. Now, I’m stashing used condoms in coffee mugs.
Life is weird.
I’m about to peel out when I see through her window—Kenzi has made it downstairs. She scoops Otto up, and the kid laughs in her arms.
The sight warms me, like taking a sip of hot cider on a snowy day. She’s a good mom.
I might’ve told her on an impulse, but I realize now that I meant it. I really do love this woman. I want to be part of that picture. Me, Kenzi, Otto, Donovan. One big happy family. It could work, right? Why not?
I start up the car and slowly drive away, back toward my place.
