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“I’m just checking. I love you, Marquise. Don’t send me away.”
“Who the fuck is sending you away? You’re mine Chrissy and I’m never letting you go. I thought you understood that.”
“I do… I did… Why haven’t you touched me since Friday afternoon?” I whisper, clenching my hands in my lap.
“I was too fucking rough with you, being out of my mind with jealousy over an old ass man. You are my fucking Goddess, you got that?”
“I got it,” I say. He comes to a stop in front of a giant house, which is more like a castle than a house.
“Get over here,” he demands. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I move closer to him. He kisses me softly and then rests his forehead on mine.
“You ready?” I ask him, as I am kissing him again.
“Yes,” he says opening the door and climbing out. We brought the Escalade tonight, so he has to help me down out of the thing. Coming around to my side of the car, he opens my door and lifts me out, so that I have to slide down his hard body. His thick cock is hard and pressing against my belly. I moan a little.
“Daddy,” I whimper. I need him. He leans down and kisses my neck before whispering in my ear.
“Now’s not the time little girl, but when we get home tonight you had best be prepared for not walking straight. You got that?” he demands, and I shiver.
“Loud and clear,” I say, swallowing thickly.
“Now, let’s get inside and have dinner, so that I can have my desert,” he growls, causing me to giggle. He takes my hand and leads me up the stairs and into the house.
Inside, the entryway is tastefully decorated and the whole house smells amazing. My stomach starts to rumble immediately.
“Marquise? Is that you?”
“Yes, Mom,” he calls out.
“I’m in the kitchen. Come on back.” When we get to the kitchen, a gorgeous older woman is elbow deep in some kind of dough.
“Sorry. Time got away from me. I’m Susan. You must be Chrissy. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“You have?” I ask.
“Ingrid and I have spoken at great lengths about you, Miss Chrissy,” she says. “Marquise, your father and brothers are in the den watching some kind of game. You should join them and give us girls a chance to get to know one another.”
“Sure thing,” he says before kissing me and leaving the room.
“Can I help with anything, Mrs. Roades?” I ask, rolling the sleeves of my shirt up.
“Susan, please. Uh, sure. Can you check the roast in the oven?”
“Sure thing,” I say, moving over to the stove. I check the roast. “Everything looks good. It’s almost done,” I say after checking the roast with a knife and the meat thermometer on the counter, before closing the heavy oven door.
“Alright, let me put this in the oven and we’ll sit and chat while we wait. Would you like some wine?”
“No thank you. I’m not old enough,” I reply.
“I won’t tell, if you won’t,” she says, winking conspiratorially.
“No, really. I shouldn’t.”
“Alright, dear. A soda perhaps?”
“That would be great,” I say. She goes to the fridge and pulls out a can of soda.
“Ice?”
“Nah,” I reply.
“So, tell me about you,” she says sitting down on the barstool.
“There’s not much to tell really,” I begin. “Okay that’s not true. There’s a lot to tell.”
“I’ve been told that I am a good listener, if you ever need to talk,” she says patting my hand.
“I’ll remember that,” I tell her.
We talk until a timer goes off. Sitting here with this kind warm woman makes me realize that I miss my own mother. I miss her hugs, her burnt food, and the sage advice that she’d give me over stupid things like boys and what kind of jeans went best with one shirt of another. It’s the little things I miss. Even though I don’t want a replacement for my mother, I think Susan will be an exceptionally good addition in my life. I hope I'll be good for her too. She took in four teenage boys who had nothing and no one. Maybe she would like to add a not official daughter-in-law to her menagerie.
"Where are you originally from?" she asks.
"Chicago, born and raised."
"And your parents? Are they still in Chicago?"
"No, they're gone now," I whisper, trying not to cry.
"Oh dear. That's terrible. When?"
"Almost seven months ago, now."
"Ingrid said you had nothing. Where have you been?"
"Sleeping in parks," I reply honestly, feeling like my world is closing in on me.
"Jesus," she murmurs, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Please don't think any less of me, Mrs. Roades."
“I would never think that Chrissy. Just tell me one thing,” she begins.
“Yeah, of course,” I say looking up at her.
“Do you love my son?” she asks. I must look like a fish out of water because she laughs. “I only ask because I saw the way you were looking at him when he left the room. As if someone took away your favorite thing in the whole wide world.”
