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Matter of fact, it shouldn’t be possible for me to get hard right now.
From this. From Leighton doing nothing other than lying on the tan couch in our living room. Her feet are propped in my lap. Her mouth parts so she can thank me for dinner.
For fucking dinner.
She’s not trying to seduce me. She’s grateful, full, and content. That’s it.
This is innocence at its finest.
Except my cock doesn’t get the memo.
My cock is obsessed with her round breasts covered by my gray Henley. With how the hem reaches a little over her knees. My eyes can’t stray away from her exposed thighs. My hands can’t stop giving her a foot rub that coaxes moans out of her.
I’m obsessed with this creature in my possession. With her sexuality and compassion.
She’s letting me have this week of us being just us like I asked her. Hasn’t brought up me stalking my own daughter. Hasn’t begged me to sort out through her blocked memories.
I’ve reciprocated these generous acts of kindness. Other than my daily check-ups on Rylan in our Santa Barbara home, I’ve been completely devoted to Leighton. Haven’t even called Dr. Hatchett to let her know Leighton and I are alive and well.
Leigh and I haven’t had a therapy or hypnosis session.
We’ve been busy being a couple. Sipping on beer while sitting on that first step of the pool. Taking morning and evening walks. Watching old horror movies—Rosemary’s Baby, she loves that one.
Then there were our talks. We talked more than anything else. Held normal conversations like normal people did while we explored the terrain.
Leighton admitted she could never tell the difference between love and lust since she hadn’t dated or had other boyfriends. She’d known for almost a decade that she craved my attention, my company, my approval.
I’ve been honest as well. I struggled with confessing my love for the seventeen-year-old Leighton. As real as it’d been, it’d been equally immoral. Leighton hadn’t judged me for falling for her. She got off on it—bright eyes, pleas to tell her everything.
And I have. I broke down my walls and tore off my mask. I bared my soul to her, and she took me in exactly as I was.
We saw and appreciated how multilayered humans each of us were. How we were built of curves rather than one boring plane. How the light didn’t hit each angle the same, how it hardly ever does.
A good partner, a truly loving one, would adore the darkness of the other as much as they’d revel in the light.
Our human flaws weren’t flaws at all. They were what made us who we are.
Leighton’s words, not mine.
I had no choice but to agree with her.
Truthfully, I agreed with every single word that came out of her mouth. Couldn’t get enough of this woman.
During this week, Leighton’s been mine. I’ve been hers.
She’s given me this gift, and I didn’t throw it away.
I’m not ready for it to end.
“I see you like my pecan pie.” I’m stalling. I owe her answers. It’s time. Yet here I am, stealing a few extra moments of happiness. Of ignorance.
“Like?” Leighton’s tongue peeks out to lick her lips. My dick strains in my jeans at the sight of her display of pleasure. “I moaned throughout the entire dessert. Freaking loved it. Truth is…” She lets her voice float.
“Yes?” I’m curious to hear what she has to say next. No, not curious. Obsessed.
“I had to silence a lot of moans over the years.” Her toes wiggle, her cute foot dragging up and down my erection. “Every time you baked this pie.”
“You wanted to fuck the pie?” I pin Leighton with a harsh stare that throws her into a giggling fit. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
