Theron
It was time to face the fact I was in completely over my head. What Sam didn’t know was I was just as terrified as he was, possibly more. Ilikedhim, and just thinking it had me hearing Tom cackling at my angst. If I was alone, I would have called to get his advice, but I wasn’t and, really, I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. It was hard enough knowing William was involved and would know if I screwed things up and made Sam feel bad about himself. As much as I promised that wouldn’t happen, it was a very valid fear.
Keeping control of my libido had been a chore when I’d felt how wet Sam was from just hearing me tell him what I wanted to do to him. Yes, it had been foreign to me, but in a good way. Like I’d told him earlier, he was all man, just made differently than some of us. Thatwasn’ta bad thing. In fact, I was starting to consider how good it could be.
He’d been such a good boy when I wiped him clean and got him dressed into a set of play clothes. Of course, he’d squirmed and begged me to touch him, but I kept everything very innocent. It turned out I was torturing myself just as much as him. I’d planned on finishing up some reports, so I had a head start and didn’t have to slave away at the computer all weekend, but my boy was distracting. Every time I looked at him, I thought of something else I wanted to do with him.
One thing was for certain; I didnotwant him going home tonight. We wouldn’t have sex—not yet—but I wanted to show him what it felt like to have a Daddy get him ready for bed. And, if he was up for it, taking sex off the table didn’t have to mean there wouldn’t be orgasms.
“Can I have some more juice please?” Fuck, Sammy was adorable when he let go.
The part of me that was falling over myself to be the best Daddy in the world, so he’d never look for someone better, wanted to race to his side to get him juice. But really, spoiling him wouldn’t do either of us any favors.
“You’ve already had two cups of juice. It’s time to switch to water,” I told him as I grabbed his new sippy cup and rinsed it. Sammy scowled at me. It was hard to keep from laughing every time he scrunched up his nose, but I managed. Barely. “Too much sugar isn’t good for little boys. You need to be able to get some sleep tonight, so you’ll be able to pay attention in class tomorrow.”
Scheduling time together was going to be difficult. He worked nearly full-time hours at the club, had a heavy class load, and needed time for his homework. That was another project I was working on while I should have been proofreading reports. “If you want, I could give you a ride to campus on my way to work, and then I can pick you up after I get done. I don’t have any meetings tomorrow and you don’t work, so maybe we could come back here?”
“I don’t want you to go out of your way,” he protested.
I set down the sippy cup of water in front of him and cupped his cheek, bending down so we were at eye level. “If I make an offer, it’s because I don’t see it as an imposition. I thought it would be a good way to get a few extra minutes together and you could go off to school remembering that your Daddy would be there to take care of you again after.”
He wiggled around on his seat, pressing his thighs together. My boy was horrible at hiding his arousal. I loved that about him. It was a huge turn-on to know simply caring for him was enough to turn him on. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But Friday I have to take my car so I can go to work from class.”
“That’s fine. I don’t want to strip your independence, Sammy, I only want to help you where I can,” I explained. He struck me as someone who fiercely guarded his self-reliance, and I wanted it out in the open from the start that I wouldnevertry to take that away from him.
And I knew I’d have to remind myself that he had a life other than what we were doing when I got too greedy. Until now, it had been easy for me to set up dates ahead of time, play, and go home. With him, I was already fighting the urge to ask him if he wanted to bring more of his things over here so we could spend all his free time together. He came to life when he was little, and it was a shame to think there were times when that wouldn’t be feasible.
“Okay.”
Well, that wasn’t the answer I’d expected. I watched as he went back to the paper he was writing. Every once in a while, he’d pause, scroll back, scowl and shake his head, then start typing again. Even though he had the entire internet available to him, he still relied on the papers scattered all over the table.
I got up and started digging through the cupboards to find something suitable for dinner. I wanted it to be little-friendly so I wouldn’t pull him out of the happy space he’d found. The closest I had all the ingredients for was spaghetti, so that would have to do. As I started browning the meat and boiling water for the pasta, I considered how he’d react if I pulled out his special bowl and silverware. And little boys liked to get messy, so he’d definitely need a bib.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
I shook my head, unaware I’d actually been lookingathim. I’d been lost inside my imagination, pleased with myself for coming up with a meal that was bound to get him messy once I cut down his noodles into bite sized pieces. With any luck, we could talk about him sleeping over while we ate, and then I could take him up for bath time and a story before I tucked him in.
“I was just thinking,” I told him. It wasn’t a lie andthinkingcovered a broad range of topics. “Why don’t you get yourself to a stopping point so you can clean up, and then you can set the table.”
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d bothered pulling out the placemats my sister-in-law swore I needed. When she’d helped me decorate the house, she’d gone all out. Hell, now that I thought about it, the last time they’d been on the table was probably the last time she visited. She was the sweetest thing and all of us had a hard time saying no to her. I didn’t want her to feel bad, so whenever they came for a visit, I spent half the day trying to make the house look just like it had when she was done. But tonight, it felt right to ask Sammy to set the table. It was a good chore for a little boy.
Sam immediately started neatly stacking his papers, carefully sorting them into the folders he’d gotten them from. He scooped up his highlighters and pens, putting them in a pencil pouch, and then stowed everything in his backpack.
“Did you make some progress today?”
Sam beamed at me. “A ton, thank you. Coming over here was a really good idea. It’s impossible to work at my place because there’s always noise. Having the bedroom over the living room sucks most of the time.”
“Well, any time you need to get away, you’re welcome here,” I told him. Even if he wasn’t up for play time and needed to be big, I wanted him to work someplace he felt comfortable.
“What’s for dinner?” Sam asked as he grabbed the silverware and placemat I’d set on the island. He fumbled when he noticed the chunky plastic utensils I’d tossed into the cart when he wasn’t looking. It was a gamble, but one that paid off when the corner of his mouth turned up as he ran a finger over the tines. He picked up the spoon, turning it over in his hand as if he was getting used to the weight of it in his palm. He looked up at me and that shy grin widened into a huge smile. “I love these. Did you have them already?”
“Nope, those are just for you,” I told him, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. “You said you wanted me to push you a bit, and little boys don’t eat with the big forks and spoons.”
“Because they can get owies from the pointy parts,” he added.
“That’s right. And Daddy doesn’t want you to get hurt. That wouldn’t make for a very fun night.”
“But I won’t be able to twirl my ‘sghetti on this,” he complained, holding up the fork.
