suck on his fingers and then sit down, pulling him out slowly and checking around the restaurant. No one seems to be watching. I undo my sandal so I can move my toes between his legs under the table. I feel the thick line of his erection. “I remember making you come, that’s what I remember.”
He sets his palms on top of the table, eyes heavy and glistening with his desire. “Make me come again, Rain.”
“I want you to know something,” I tell him, voice stern as I rub him harder. He exhales deeply and our eyes connect once again. “You are mine. The next time you get upset over Willow I’m going to punish you. No more sadness over her. She doesn’t deserve you. I do. Now come for me, baby.” I press my toes against him hard.
I watch as he tosses his head back and makes two tight fists. I rub him faster, harder, massaging the length of his hard cock with my toes and rubbing my heel against his balls. He falls apart before my eyes, trying to hide it. Watching him attempt to contain his pleasure might be the sexiest part. He whimpers slightly, as if he can’t keep his moans inside, then leans forward and bows his head, hiding his face from everyone as he orgasms.
I take my foot back and wiggle it into my sandal. “Now I’m having fun.”
He looks up at me, breathing hard and satisfied. “I love you,” he groans, situating himself under the table.
I smile sweetly and taste a shrimp. “I bet you love me right now.”
Our waitress arrives with four lobsters and enough crab to feed an entire family. She gives us bibs and I laugh at Kent when he puts it on.
He cracks into his lobster, sucking on the claw. “Thanks, Dad.”
I giggle. “What’s his name?”
“Brent.”
“Thanks, Brent. Is there anything I should know about them before I meet them? Are they as aggravating as you?”
“No, they’re not as cool,” he assures me, reaching over to dot my cheek with lobster juice. “They’re normal. Scott and I used to wonder whether we were Dad’s children, because we look like our mom, and Dad’s all dark hair, computer geek, and golfer. I got his taste in numbers and Scott…” He pauses and cracks his crab leg roughly. “Got his propensity for acquiring things that aren’t his,” he finishes bitterly.
“Golf?” I scrunch my nose up.
“Dad loves it. Plays once a week. Every week.”
“My dad loved baseball. He took Becca and me to a Marlins game once. He got drunk in the parking lot afterwards, but until that point we had fun.” I smile sadly at the memory. “He bought us hotdogs and slushies. I spilled mine all over my shirt and he bought me a new one so Mom wouldn’t get mad.”
Kent smiles a little. “So not everything was bad with him, then?”
“Most things were. I can remember a few good things, but mostly I try not to.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re lies. If someone can do good things then they should do them all the time. When you chose to do bad it makes the good things you do bad too.”
He wipes his hands off and reaches for his sweet tea, eyeing me intently. “Maybe he was running from something too.”
“Maybe,” I agree. “But he had responsibilities and sometimes those come first.”
“I’m not disagreeing with you. All I’m saying is maybe you shouldn’t focus so heavily on the bad he did all of the time. Maybe every once in a while you could remember the good he did, so the bad doesn’t consume you. Name one other good thing he did for you growing up? Please, baby? I’ve never seen you smile like that before.”
“Like what?”
“Like you couldn’t help it.”
I sigh and clean my hands, trying to dredge up a memory. “He bought me my first book. Peter Cottontail. He came home on one of his highs with presents for everyone and he got me a book. I read it so many times the pages became thin and see-through. I think he got Becca a doll and Mom a necklace. It’s because of him I love to read. When he and Mom fought I disappeared into my book. He gave me an escape.” I smile before I can’t help it.
He smiles back, this huge, wide, gorgeous smile. “Thank you for sharing that.”
A new kind of heat moves over me. “You’re welcome.”