Page 68 of Candy


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Around midnight, I had the scare of my life. I was sound asleep when something caused me to arouse, and I opened my eyes to see Harley’s little face inches from mine. I jerked back with a gasp, but recognition quickly dawned on me, and I peered over my shoulder to see Mike still sound asleep.

“What’s up, sweetie?”

He hesitated a long time before whispering, “I’m scared.”

“Do you want to lie down with me?”

He nodded, and I threw back the covers so he could climb up. I figured he would lie next to me, but he rolled over, put his body tightly against mine, and rested his head on the edge of my pillow. Was this how he had slept with his mother in their little room of a home?

I would have to call Carmen tomorrow and see what she might suggest, or perhaps it was no big deal. Maybe this was just him adjusting to a new place. Hopefully, that was it.

When I next woke, it was to jostling in the bed, and raspy whispered words. I rolled over, glancing between the two of them. Mike sat up against the headboard, and Harley sat on his knees between us.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” I said as I stretched my arms over my head. Mike’s gaze hungrily followed the blanket as it pulled down my body, exposing my t-shirt-clad chest.

“Morning, Candy,” Harley said, much too loud for first thing in the morning.

“Harley, have you used the potty?”

He shook his head and immediately started to climb off the bed. “No, but I will now.” He raced from the room, and I glanced at Mike as he bent toward me to brush the hair off my forehead.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He slipped a hand under my shirt and cupped one of my breasts, flicking my hardened nipple. “What I wouldn’t give for fifteen minutes of privacy with you.”

I arched into his hand. “We will have to see what we can do about that.”

The pitter-patter of feet could be heard in the hallway, and he removed his hand and winked.

“Wait!” I called as Harley reached the door. “Did you flush the toilet and wash your hands?”

He shook his head and darted away again as I reached for Mike’s hand. “That gives you about sixty seconds. Make good use of the time.”

I immediately reached down to rub my palm over the erection that was no doubt there. I was not wrong, and my body began to hum with the need for him. I liked sex at night, but something about having sex first thing in the morning really turned me on.

Way too soon, we parted to return to our sides of the bed as Harley raced into the bedroom and jumped on my bed. He scrambled over my legs to get between us again. He sniffed his hands. “What flavor is your soap?”

I had to think for a second. “I believe it is lemon, or maybe grapefruit. I’m not sure.” He shoved his hand under my nose, and I giggled and pulled it away. “That’s lemon.”

“Lemon? It smells good. Can you eat lemon?”

“You can, but it’s not really to eat. It’s a flavor that you add to other things like lemon meringue pie and iced tea.”

He seemed confused, and I thought for a second. “Do you want to try lemon?” He nodded. “Okay, I have a special treat for you for breakfast.”

“Um,” Mike jumped in, “I don’t think lemon meringue pie is a good start to the day.”

I scoffed. “No, silly. I’m going to make cinnamon and lemon toast.”

“What?” He gave me an odd look. “I know what cinnamon toast is, but lemon?”

“Oh, boy! You two are in for a treat. Give me a minute to brush my teeth, and we will go make breakfast.” I threw back the covers and started toward the restroom, but Harley rushed to follow me. I stopped him at the door. “Harley, I know you are used to being there when your mom went potty, but adults use the bathroom alone in this house. You stay here and talk to your dad for a few minutes.”

“Okay,” he said in a small voice.

“Harley, come over here,” Mike called, and Harley hurried back to the bed and leaned on it as Mike and I locked eyes before I closed the bathroom door. I sighed as I stared in the mirror. Why did I have a six-year-old little boy in my bedroom?

Oh yeah, because I had a thing for his father. Harley would need a lot of attention for a while, and I wondered if Mike understood that. I knew that Mike couldn’t afford some of the schools that Carmen was talking about. I had heard Riley and Bradley Young’s wife, Nolan, talk about them. Both were teachers, and they had discussed the merits of public school versus private.

I would have to get their opinion on them again, although Carmen’s medical opinion did weigh more. Perhaps Wes Young could weigh in on that too. I’d speak with him tonight.

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