He went silent for a moment, but his hands never stopped.
God, his hands are fucking magic.Everything about him was.
“Staying calm for you and the kids makes me feel better.”
Classic T. Focusing on all of us instead of himself. Some might call him sacrificial, but in truth, it was survival. Survival through service. Trent didn’t sacrifice his own needs for others. He focused on others because it was what he needed.
You ever heard the sayinggivers need to have limits because takers rarely do?
Loving a man like this was tricky because it would be so easy to fall into a taker role.
Trent’s heart had no limits. He would give and give until he had nothing left, and it was my job to make sure I filled him back up so he was never empty.
Turning from my seat between his legs, I rose to my knees, wrapped my arms around his waist, and bulldozed him back into the couch cushions, pinning him beneath me.
Bending my head, I mouthed his dick through his sweats, smiling a little at the way he purred. Grabbing the hem of his T-shirt, I lifted to push my head under it and kiss his stomach. The muscles there contracted with his sudden laughter, the burst of sound loosening the tightness in my chest.
Just because I could, I nipped at his defined abs and then traced the contours of his six-pack with my tongue. His laughter smoothed into a low moan, and I stretched up to tug his nipple into my mouth.
His back arched slightly, and my breath turned the small space between his chest and shirt warm. Releasing his nipple, I pressed a kiss to his chest just above his heart.
“You take good care of us, frat boy. I want to take care of you too.”
“You do, baby. Better than anyone.”
“Daddy?” Andi’s voice made me jerk, the seams of T’s shirt cracking a little with the force.
“Fuck,” I muttered, remembering I was tangled in his clothes.
“I’m here, peanut,” Trent called as I tried to untangle myself.
“Uh, Dad,” Andi said, her voice closer than before. “What are you doing?”
I yanked free, cheeks hot, hair wild, and caught in the act. “Uh, what?”
Trent laughed.
The dirty bastard.
“What are you doing, Dad?” Andi asked, her dark eyes on me.
I glanced at Trent for help.
He raised his brow, waiting to see what I’d say.
Forget what I said about his need to help others. He clearly also enjoyed watching me suffer.
“Uh, well, your dad said something on his side was itching him, so I was checking it out.”
“Oh. Do you have a bug bite, Daddy?” Andi said, turning those innocent eyes to Trent.
Trent glanced at me. “Did you find a bug bite, Daddy?”
“Sure did,” I said, straight-faced. “Nothing serious, though. Just try not to itch it.”
“Might be hard. It’s pretty itchy,” Trent said, his eyes full of laughter.
“Well, I’m not scratching any itch you have,” I muttered and stood from the floor. Turning to our daughter, I said, “How about some breakfast, peanut?”
