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The desire to slide my hand up higher surges inside of me, and my dick jerks in my jeans. I know it’s wrong, with her being so young and me creeping on her like a letch, and I drop my eyes, unable to make eye contact any longer for fear she’ll see just how much I want her, how obsessed I am with her. My pulse pounds while I hold myself still as a statue, fighting back the sudden, acute desire to lay my head on her lap and fall asleep just like this.
We’re snapped out of this weird limbo when Lainey twists on Shayla’s lap and tucks her face into her mother’s shoulder, making the cutest little whimper sound.
Shayla’s voice is low when she says, “It’s late. I should get Lainey home.”
“Right.” I stand, still unable to make eye contact, afraid now of her seeing just how much that short, intense moment of physical contact meant to me. I take our dishes to the sink and wipe down the table while she packs up Lainey’s toys and her bags to take back home.
I check on Grayson, then grab the baby monitor to take with me. I shoulder Shayla’s bags and travel crib so she doesn’t have to carry them along with a now-sleeping Lainey. After locking the front door, I follow her down my walkway and across the street.
She unlocks her front door and takes a small step inside before turning around to whisper, “Goodnight, James. Thank you for dinner.”
I set her things on the floor just inside the door and take a step back. “It was my pleasure.” And I mean that quite literally. “Same time tomorrow?” I cross my fingers behind my back, hoping she’ll say yes, scared shitless she’ll say no because I touched her inappropriately when I shouldn’t have.
“Same time tomorrow,” she confirms quietly.
When I turn to cross back to my house, my smile is so wide that my cheeks ache, anticipating the moment I’ll get to see her again. I check on Grayson once more when I get back home, then fall into bed. Taking care of an infant so young is exhausting, even with Shayla’s help, but I’m not dead on my feet like I had been last night.
I pull up her contact information in my phone and click on her picture that was auto-added when I saved her info. Though it’s small, I can see her sweet smile clearly and can even just make out her crooked front tooth. And that’s all I need to see for my half-hard cock to fully lengthen and pre-cum to bead at the tip.
Between the small picture and the mental image of her bare tits from last night, I cum within a minute of stroking my shaft, thick white ropes landing on my chest and stomach. I have just enough energy left to clean myself up before falling into a deep sleep with my phone still open to her picture.
Chapter 6
James
By the end of the first wondrous week spent in my angel’s presence, we’ve slipped into a pattern. Shayla drops by in the morning on her way to school to feed Grayson, who then goes to nursery now that I’m back at work. After school, she comes over right away with Lainey and another stash of freshly pumped milk to babysit Grayson while I finish up my work for the day.
I try not to think about what she must look like when she’s pumping since that leads to me sporting a hard-on within ten seconds flat, but it’s increasingly difficult to push them away each time I make a bottle for Grayson. What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall when she takes her pump breaks.
By the end of the first month, Shayla says her supply has increased enough that she’s able to pump enough milk for both Lainey and Grayson to get them through the day while she’s at school. Grayson tolerates his bottles much better now and is down to just nursing three times a day—once in the morning before she goes to school, once right after, and once before he goes down for the night. Shayla jokes about how unfair it is that he’s already sleeping through the night at four months old when Lainey took much longer, but I know she’s secretly pleased.
Grayson is a much happier baby overall now. A complete one-eighty from those first few days. Of course, the babies are too young to actually play with each other, but it’s cute how Lainey plays around him, sometimes handing him her toys, other times avoiding his grabby hands since he has developed a fascination with her wispy blonde hair. Totally understandable since I’m just as fascinated with her mother’s halo of hair, so tempted to rake my fingers through it whenever she wears it down where it hangs just below her shoulders.
Shayla’s eyes light up when I lead her into Grayson’s nursery, where I have a little surprise for her set up—a new travel crib for Lainey, so Shayla doesn’t have to lug hers back and forth between our houses every day.
She smiles broadly and lays her hand on my forearm. “Oh wow, James, that’s so sweet. You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.”
And then she hugs me.
It’s not just a side-hug or half-hug that friends do, but full-on from the front, her breasts smashed against my chest with her arms thrown up around my neck. I pull her in close with my arms around her back, splaying my hands one on top of the other over her spine, and rub my cheek against the soft strands of her hair.
“You don’t have to thank me, angel.” The endearment just slips out, and I clench my eyes shut, hoping she won’t think it’s weird that I called her angel.
“Yes, I do,” she hums in my ear.
I tighten my arms around her, fighting the urge to slide my hands down to cup her ass and lift her so she’ll wrap her legs around me as tight as her arms are around my neck. “This hug is all I need in thanks.”
She makes a breathy noise of surprise when my hands slip down to grip her hips, and I immediately leave the room when she pulls away so she won’t see the erection that’s sprung to life at the quick, intimate contact. I jerk my cock furiously in my bathroom and bring myself to climax in under a minute before cleaning up and rejoining her in the living room. I slump on the couch next to her while she reads a picture book to Grayson and Lainey, still high from the hug and orgasm.
It’s also become part of our routine that I cook dinner for her every night after I get done with work. I take my time with it, testing out more elaborate recipes that take longer to prep and cook so that she ends up staying later and later. It makes for good eating, and I’ve put on a few needed pounds for the first time since I gained the freshman fifteen at college, pleased to find I’m a fraction wider than the string bean I’ve been all my life.
One night, I try my hand at making a dessert, as well—a small, homemade strawberry cheesecake, which Shayla told me recently is her favorite. I have to remind myself to close my mouth and stop drooling when she moans at her first bite.
“Oh god, James, this is the best cheesecake I’ve ever had.” She moans again with her next bite, then asks for seconds once she’s finished. I have to readjust my dick before standing from the table so she won’t see my bulge, which is already leaking with pre-cum in my jeans.
She catches the way I’m staring at her, licking her spoon clean after each bite of her third slice once I refill her plate when she’s done with the second. She says with a sheepish look, “Sorry, I’m eating all your cheesecake.”
“I made it for you. Have as much as you want.”
