“Are you watching?” Lavender points a spatula in Daisy’s direction, like a conductor with a baton. The little girl nods from where she’s sitting on an adjacent countertop, her hands pressed under her thighs as her polka-dotted pajama-clad legs swing back and forth in anticipation.
Neither of them notices me lurking in the shadows of the doorway.
Lurking in my own home, for fuck’s sake.
“Oops,” my hot little wife says as the spatula clatters noisily to the floor, inadvertently torturing me more as she bends from the waist to scoop something up from the floor.
My cock stirs to life instantly.I’m going to have her like that,the animal inside me declares, staring at the length of her tan, toned legs.I’ll make her bend and grab her ankles and fuck her so hard from behind, my grip on her will be the only thing to stop her from toppling. The corner of my mouth hooks upward because that would require her trust, and we’re not there yet.
“Five-second rule, right?” She glances right for Daisy’s agreement. “I bet you could eat your breakfast off this kitchen floor.”
Daisy giggles, and Lavender lifts her arms above her head, inadvertently exposing a sliver of skin and the dip of her waist. She leans one way, then the other with an exaggerated jut of her hips as though limbering up for something.
“One, two, three!” Her elbow pokes out sharply before she angles her body back, like a soccer player about to catch the ball on her head.
But that would be too conventional for Lavender because, as it turns out, she expects a crepe to the face.
“She?” she announces with an infectious, if muffled, delight as she turns to Daisy, now offering me her lovely profile.
“You did it!” my niece says, clapping her hands like a demented seal.
“Peash a pish! Waish.” She holds up her hand, her jaw working as she bites. Then begins to suck the crepe into her mouth.
Good fucking Lord.
“Your turn now,” she announces, once she’s swallowed it.
No, don’t let your mind go there. You’re stronger than that.
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, pointing her spatula at Daisy, who is already shaking her head.
“No, thank you.”
“You’ve got to!”
Daisy shakes her head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I might get messy,” Daisy replies, looking genuinely distressed.
“So? Messy can be fun.”
Fuck, yes. Messy can be wonderful.
Daisy looks slightly panicked, more so than she should be. But Lavender is speaking again.
“Messy would be if I put chocolate sauce on yours,” she taunts, hopping sideways in the direction of the fridge. “I’m sure I saw some in here.”
“No, don’t!” Daisy shakes both hands in front of her. “I don’t want it to get in my hair.”
“What about cream?” Lavender waves the spatula again. Daisy gives her head another determined shake. “You’re sure? There’s bound to be some in the fridge. There’s enough food to feed an army in there.”
“Uncle Raif likes it to be full.”
“Does he?” Her head quirks.
Daisy nods. “Always.”
