“So, what can I help with?” she asked.
I shook my head, “Nothing. Just have a seat.”
She shook her head in response, “I can’t do that. It’s not fair.”
“Baby girl, you come over here right now, I’m going to kiss the fuck out of you. I know it’s not too soon for me. But I think it’s too soon for you. So, for me, do me a solid, yeah? Sitdown over there.” I told her and pointed to one of the barstools underneath the island.
Her cheeks were pink.
Thankfully, she took mercy on me and sat down on one of the barstools.
Then I got back to making her food.
Then like a fucking dumbass I asked, “Any allergies?”
“Nothing that I know of yet,” she said.
I nodded, “Same.”
Then I finished the quick meal of eggs, bacon, and french toast.
“So, how long have you lived here?” she asked.
I looked over my shoulder as I finished the french toast and said, “Fifteen years.”
She lifted a brow, “Fifteen years. Wait, how old are you?”
I chuckled as I plated everything and said, “I’m forty-two.”
Her eyes went comically wide, “Bullshit.”
I nodded, “Yep. Forty-two.”
“How?” she asked with her mouth dropped open.
I smirked, “Well, nine months before I was born, my mother allowed a watering can to enter her love garden...” I trailed off as she burst into laughter.
Then she shook her head, “Smartass. But really. How does someone who looks like you’re only thirty-one or so, be forty-two?”
I shrugged, “Good genes, I guess. Fuck if I know.”
She nodded, “Well... does it bother you?”
I lifted a brow as I carried the plates to the island, “Does what bother me?”
“That I’m a lot younger than you,” she shared.
“Does it bother me that you're sweet? No. Does it bother me that you have a good head on your shoulders? No. Does it bother me that you're gorgeous? No. But what does bother me is you not being mine yet in every way I can make you mine. What does bother me is that I gotta find a way to deal with fuckers who see you until I can make you mine.”
“So, what you're saying is, you don’t give a shit I’m only twenty-four.” She asked with a small smile playing on her lips.
I shook my head, “Not a single fuck. You?”
She shook her head, “No. I think older men do it better.”
I smirked, “That we do, baby girl.” I bent my head and placed a kiss on her temple. There, I whispered, “That we do.”
And really... I was fighting a losing battle with my cock.
