Page 24 of Mommy

I want to see her eat every fucking meal every day for the rest of my life.

—wait, what?

All the blood in my system must have gone straight to my dick, and now there’s a ghost town in my head, producing weird thoughts. Whatever. I stand by it. Watching Ivory eat is next level satisfying.

So, I do just that. Instead of eating my own food I just watch her consume hers and when the waiter comes over to check on us I tell him to pack my food to go and bring dessert.

Suspicion lingers in Ivory’s eyes as she eats her fries one after the other.

“Why are you not eating?” she asks between two bites of an extra long fry.

I shrug.

“I didn’t feel too hungry.”

Lie.

After meeting Abigail today, I was so pissed off I could’ve eaten a whole bucket of fries. But not anymore. Now, with Ivory across the table, my appetite has vanished. Or more accurately, it has shifted.

Shaking her head, Ivory finishes her food just in time for the waiter to take her plate and place a bowl in front of her.

The way her eyes light up at the dessert I choose for her, has another grin growing on my face. This one actually consumes not only my lips but my eyes and cheeks as well.

“Is that⁠—?”

“Lava cake.”

She squeals in delight and I have to press my teeth together to keep myself from groaning at the sound. My dick strains against its prison inside of my pants and I suck in a deep breath, collecting my thoughts. My voice still comes out like gravel when I open my mouth.

“Let’s play house again.”

Ivory looks up, and I’m surprised when I see a small smile peeking through her eye roll.

“Okay, daddy.”

I know she’s just copying my earlier mommy, but the way the word rolls over her soft lips still has a low growl rise in my throat.

Mine, mine, mine.

Every heartbeat in my chest echoes the word.

Clearing her throat, Ivory lets her gaze drop down from my face, a red hue dusting her cheeks.

Always so shy, until the brat comes out.

And still, she tickles all the emotions out of me that I thought were dead after Abigail’s flirting earlier. Ivory drags it all back out into broad daylight.

Waving over the waiter, I watch her eat her dessert. I never thought I’d be jealous of silverwear, but here I am, wishing I could magically transform into a spoon just to have Ivory wrap her lips around me.

The waiter gives a thankful nod when I tip him and sign the check.

I don’t know what’s different this time, but Ivory is calmer. She is more relaxed, more open. More sassy too. Not that I mind.

She beats me to the bike, climbing on the back before I can lift her up and stretching out a hand in demand for the spare helmet.

I can’t really be mad when the second I get on in front of her, her arms sling around me in a way that makes me want to really speed things up.

The second my house comes into view, Ivory’s grip around me loosens.