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It was sweet and one of the thousand small things I’d seen that made me realize they were right for each other. Hearing about it was one thing, but seeing it with my own eyes cemented something for me. I wasn’t sure how this relationship would end up looking, but I knew I would do anything in my power to make it work.
There just weren’t any other options.
Chapter 2
Ian
“It’s wonderful.”
The cake.
The cake was wonderful.
I barely held back my rambling brain that wanted to make sure Cohen knew I hadn’t been talking about the date or Bishop’s tender touch or the way Cohen’s gaze shifted back and forth between us, sending a shiver through me every time it was my turn.
Me and Daddy were taking turns.
No.
Had to stay big or I’d do something silly.
What had he asked me?
Fuck.
Cohen’s head was cocked, and he was barely holding back a smile. Daddy wasn’t worried about holding back anything because his chest was bouncing in silent laughter. “I’m sorry?”
Was there a way to explain how jumbled and jumpy my thoughts were?
“I missed your question.” The one good thing about my embarrassment was that it’d chased my little side deeper into my head, and I was no longer trying to decide if I could use my finger to eat the frosting first.
Thank fuck.
Cohen’s lips were barely upturned, but he nodded and didn’t tease me about my wandering mind. “I asked if you wanted a taste of the key lime pie now.”
Oh.
It was pretty…but it was still green.
Not quite green eggs and ham green…but still…
“Sure.” Oh, that didn’t sound very enthusiastic. “Yes, thank you.”
Oh, too polite, maybe?
Daddy was coughing and Cohen rolled his eyes, so it was too much something. But before I could try again, Cohen scooped up a bite of the pie on his spoon and held out the soft green dessert.
Why did it have to be green?
Oh. He was holding it out for me.
Shit.
I probably looked like a startled squirrel as he slowly inched the spoon toward me, raising one eyebrow challengingly. He was daring me.
But daring me to what?
To eat the green pie?
To let him feed me?
Was it like a Lady and the Tramp kind of vibe or an Uncle Cohen kind of vibe?
Wait.
Daddy groaned.
Okay, not an Uncle Cohen kind of vibe.
Wait.
A date vibe?
Swallowing, I had a split second to decide what to do, and it turned out the small head was faster at making decisions than the big head because I leaned forward and opened my lips…while I made eye contact!
I was such a slut.
Daddy was watching.
And moaning.
So, obviously, he didn’t mind.
Oh, Cohen made a sound.
It wasn’t quite a moan, but then again he wasn’t as obvious as Daddy about most things. But that probably wasn’t a bad thing because two Daddies might get overwhelming. Cohen was very Cohen and not very Bishopy…thank God.
But a dash of Bishopy would’ve made it easier to know how to respond to…to, well, everything. In spite of it all, I let him see my curiosity and my fears, about the pie and our date and what Bishop seemed to want in general, but he wasn’t afraid.
No, Cohen oozed a different kind of confidence than Daddy.
Cohen seemed to be thoughtful and less likely to jump into crazy headfirst, but that seemed like it would balance out Bishop’s excitement about life in general and my overthinking.
So I did it.
I took the bite.
As I wrapped my lips around the spoon, sweeping the pie into my mouth, I couldn’t help moaning as the tangy sweetness hit my tongue. I thought I meant the unconscious sound innocently until Cohen’s pupils widened and he made another low hum.
Based on how my dick responded, I was starting to think I hadn’t meant it quite so innocently.
Cohen seemed to be on the same train of thought because he licked his lips and smirked, sending a shiver through me that I knew neither man would’ve missed.
Shaking his head, he made a tsking sound that could’ve meant I was naughty, but it just made me hard…and his words didn’t help the situation any. “I can’t decide if you’re a good boy for trying the pie or a naughty boy for making those sounds out in public.”
Which would get me something fun?
Not that I was sure what I meant by fun, but…
“Um, I’m not naughty?” At least, I didn’t think I was. “The pie is good…but it’s green.”
Daddy was coughing, still doing a terrible job of covering his laughter, but Cohen was better at hiding it because his lips barely turned up on the sides. “It doesn’t have to be green. They probably tint it green because that’s what they think people expect to see.”
Why would people want it to be green?
People were so weird.
“What does it look like normally?” Since it seemed to be a safer discussion than whether I’d been naughty, I focused on the pie. “Is it cheesecake white or something else?”
