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I think she might cry or push me away but, instead, she continues to surprise me by laughing so hard, tears spring to her eyes.
“I guess we should go face the music.”
“I have nothing to hide,” I tell her as I roll her to her back and pull out. I tuck myself back into my jeans and grab her pants, untangling them. I slide her knickers back up her legs and then roll her leggings, one leg at a time, to slip them over her feet and up her legs settling them into place over her hips.
She pushes to stand, watching me as I do up the buttons of my jeans. I want to preen a bit, like a peacock, with the way her eyes light when she looks at my body.
“Easy for you to say,” she says. “Your daughter didn’t just see you engaged in…”
“Yes, darling? Tell me, what were we engaged in?” I ask waggling my eyebrows suggestively to make her laugh.
“Activities.”
“I do so enjoy… activities with you.”
“Very funny.”
“Come on then,” I hold out a hand for her. “Let’s go face the music.”
She shimmies her hips a bit awkwardly as we walk back up the hill. “Ugh,” she growls a bit.
“What?”
“I’m… squishy,” she answers and her cheeks heat. Other, more obvious, parts of me heat up at the visual of her filled with my cum.
“Jesus.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You should be,” I tell her, bringing our linked hands to press against the front of my jeans. “Because now I’m hard all over again.”
“Oh.”
“‘Oh’ is right because I can’t walk in there sporting wood to sit down with your daughter. So do quit being so positively delicious and enticing.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Thank you.”
I follow her to her beautiful blue house on the hill. It’s a wildflower just like she is. Bright and beautiful, thriving in the Alaskan wilds.
Besides, Merritt is a handful sure, but she can’t be that bad. I’m sure we’ll all just laugh it off. She’s probably embarrassed. It was her mom and a man. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m about to be a consistent person in her world. A stepfather, even. I wonder if the girls would welcome me as a father figure in their lives.
By everyone’s accounts it seems like they’ve never really had one. Zelda did it all on her own with the help of this odd but loveable town.
Zelda pauses by the back door and grabs her basket from my free hand, dropping it to the wooden patio. She rolls her shoulders back and takes in a deep breath.
“It’ll be fine,” she says more to herself than to me.
“I’ve no doubt.”
She pulls open the wooden door with the beveled glass design in the center, leading us into the kitchen. Merritt is sitting at the breakfast bar with a glass of orange juice in her hand. She freezes at our entrance with the glass lifted halfway to her mouth, her eyes wide.
And then she smiles.
“Hey there, Mamacita!” she says with a smile for her mother before turning to me. “Daddy-o.”
“Merritt,” Zelda says nervously.
