AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What if you had someone to help you?” Dean grins at me.
“I’m not sure what that means.”
“Tanner,” Dean says, eyes softening. “Tell me, what do you think a Daddy’s role for his boy is?”
Unsure where he’s going with this, I tilt my head to the side and answer, “Daddy is there to take care of all his boy’s needs. A Daddy provides structure, discipline, and praise.” I finally connect the dots as the words flow freely. “A Daddy is there to make sure his boy is protected and safe, to ease stresses and give affection.”
“Exactly,” Dean says the word with pride.
“But…” I press my lips together before continuing. “How can I ask a Daddy to be all of that for me without giving something in return? How can I make time for a Daddy when I can barely manage a microwaveable meal and a few hours of restless sleep?”
“I have a few suggestions,” he says vaguely.
Before I can ask him what they are, a knock sounds from the door.
“That must be dinner.” Dean slides me off his lap to the couch and stands. “I’ll get the door, and while I do…I want you to think about whatyousaid a Daddy is and why I’m here.”
He presses a quick kiss to my forehead and walks away, leaving me with more questions than answers. Most prominent is…can Dean truly mean all this?
ELEVEN
I hopeto hell the hundred-dollar bill I shove at the delivery driver is enough to make up for my rudeness. Grabbing the bags from his hand, I promptly shut the door in his face and hustle back to the small living room in Tanner’s apartment.
Leaving the boy alone with his thoughts isn’t a good idea. Even these few minutes I’ve stepped away is likely enough for Tanner to get himself all worked up and prepare one argument after another as to why he doesn’t have time for a Daddy.
As anticipated, I find Tanner deep in thought when I round the back of the couch. He’s looking off in the direction of the television, his eyes glazed over while he ruminates. If I didn’t know any better, I would swear I could see smoke pouring out of his ears, the gears in his mind working overtime.
Setting the bags of food on his pallet coffee table, I call out to him. “Tanner, okay if we eat in here?”
He blinks several times, returning to the present and turning at the sound of my voice. “Uh, yeah. That’s fine.”
Quickly opening the bags, I pull out the food containers and cutlery sets they provided. Opening the lid of Tanner’s meal first, I quickly cut the shrimp pasta into bite-size pieces, then pass the bowl to his waiting hands.
A small smile tilts the edges of his lips when he looks at the cut-up noodles. Skirting to his side of the table, I take the cushion beside him, sitting close enough that our thighs touch.
Quickly draping a napkin over his thigh, I point to his untouched food with my fork. “Eat up.”
We need to continue our talk, and we will, but first, this boy needs sustenance. Staying in bought us a bit longer to chat, and everything I have left to say will hold until we’ve filled our bellies.
Permission granted, Tanner tucks into his dinner. Doing the same, I almost groan around the first bite. A tantalizing concoction of tomatoes and garlic dances along my taste buds. The food is delicious. The meal is only made better as I watch Tanner eat.
Unsure if it’s intentional, I catch glimpses of his little side as we eat. Tanner’s hips wiggle side to side, his shoulders following the movement as he scoops one forkful after another into his mouth. With every bite, he hums around his fork as he pulls the tines between his lips, the tip of his tongue peeking out to chase a stray drop of sauce. How he’s adorable and sensual at the same time, I’ll never know.
My dick starts to chub between my legs, and I’m forced to squirm a bit to adjust without drawing attention. I’m not as successful as I would hope, the cushion displacement causing Tanner to still his movements. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he looks at me, alarmed, his face coloring pink.
Fucking precious.
“Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart. I was enjoying your happy dance.” My comment does nothing to dull the bright-red splotches over his cheeks.
After a hard swallow, he faces me. “Happy dance?”
“Well, I assume that’s what you were doing. Unless your little butt wiggle had another purpose?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head side to side. “It’s just…the food is so yummy. This is the best—actually the only real—meal I’ve had all week.”
Fighting to keep the sadness out of my expression, I smile at him. “I’m happy to hear that. Are you finished?”
He nods. “Do I get dessert if I say yes?”
