Page 13 of Mommy

“You want me to give you a new nickname? Done, mommy.”

This time when she rolls her hips, I’m 100% certain that she knows what she’s doing. Tightening my hand around her throat I grind into her again.

She’s so small in front of me, I’m a little scared I might break her. It’s not just that she isn’t tall, she is also skinny. I’ve noticed that bit before, but now that I have her close to me, arm wrapped around her I can feel just how skinny.

The large hoodies she seems to wear all the time, hides a lot of her body. The boney shoulders, the super slim arms.

Unhealthy.

I take a step back despite my cock wanting nothing more than to stay as close to her as possible.

“Did you eat?”

“Yes.”

I can hear the fake happiness in that one word. I don’t bother with a response to her lie though, and instead I move to push her forward a little bit. Ivory walks forward before I get to really make contact, her body moving out of my reach before my palm can apply pressure.

Either this girl is very intuitive or she’s learned how to ditch a shove.

I hope for everyone’s sake that it’s the first of the two options.

She stays in front of me until we reach the kitchen, and I wait for her to wash her hands before I follow her lead.

“Take a seat, Mommy. I’ll get dinner ready.”

I can hear her mumble something at the nickname while she makes her way over to the dining room, but at least she walks and doesn’t open a discussion about eating. I’ll take that as a win.

My dinner is waiting in the fridge.

I made a chicken curry yesterday and there’s still enough left for both of us. Popping the first plate into the microwave I lean against the black marble counter.

Crossing my arms, I stare in the direction of the dining room. It’s not easy to try and imagine her sitting there, I’ve only known the girl for a few hours and I’ve never seen her sit anywhere else but the floor.

Kneeling.

With a soft groan, I readjust my dick.

The microwave dings and I take out the first plate. Putting the second one in, I grab two spoons and carry the food over into the living room and freeze.

Ivory isn’t sitting at the table. No. She is lying on top of it. And not in a sexy way, that would make me eat her whole. Nope. She passed out on it, head resting on her forearms and low snoring filling the silent room.

Folding my lips between my teeth, I try my hardest to keep my laughter contained.

This looks fucking adorable.

Setting the plate aside, I carefully tap her shoulder. Once. Twice.

No reaction. She doesn’t even stop her snoring.

Wrapping my arms around her, I pick her up carefully and carry her upstairs. Peeling only the hoodie off her body is torture. My hands want to go on touching her, I want to feel her skin and hopefully find even the slightest bit of fat on her body.

This far, I’ve had no luck with that last part.

She feels like only bones and skin, barely muscle and definitely no fat.

Watching her roll to her side as I tuck her in under the blanket, I try to understand how a person can be this skinny and not die to eat at night.

Maybe that’s how she got so skinny.