Sometimes it’s hard to believe where my life has progressed to. From being an emotionally closed-off man running a strip club to a married man, completely in love, running a restaurant, raising a wonderful son.
I give Tristan a quick tour of the kitchen without disturbing the sous chefs who are deep into mise-en-place for tonight’s service.
However, once we reach the dessert station, we are greeted by a very boisterous roar of, “Well, hello there, boy!”
Tristan giggles, and Tilly and I both smile when we see Pierre, the dessert chef, looking down at our son. From the first day they met, Pierre had an affinity for Tristan and was always very kind to him, taking extra time to show him around the kitchen and letting him taste his desserts.
“Hello!” Tristan giggles, looking up at Pierre.
“What are you doing back here?” Pierre asks, pretending to scold him. “You know it’s off limits! You’ll be arrested!”
“I will not!” Tristan replies. “My dad won’t let me be!”
Grinning, I reach around my wife’s waist and slowly run my hand down her back until I’m cupping a nice handful of her perfect ass. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her giving me “the look,” but I just squeeze, letting her know that Daddy’s in the mood, and we’ve only got so much time.
And if I know my wife, like I’m betting I do, she’s in the mood too.
“Hey, Pierre,” I say. “Why don’t you show my son here how you make the dough for tonight’s biscuits? Tilly and I have a little something to attend to. Shouldn’t taketoolong.”
Pierre’s a smart man—always has been—and immediately catches the look in my eye. He nods and takes Tristan by the hand.
“Would you like to see that?” he asks. Tristan immediately nods and looks back at me.
“Can I go with him, Dad? Can I?”
“Sure you can!” I smile. “Your mom and I will be back in no time. Just behave for him, okay?”
“Promise!” Tristan says with a firm nod.
Thank God I have my chef’s apron on, I’m thinking as I lead my wife out of the kitchen and down the back hallway to my office. Her juicy ass has been teasing my testosterone levels so hard for the last few minutes that my cock is so hard it’s practically aching. I’m absolutely dying to get into her for Christ’s sake.
“You arebad, Chef,” she whispers as I tug open the door to my office and pull her inside. “Ditching yourown sonjust to get naughty.”
“Get naughty?” I laugh as I snatch at the buttons on her jeans. “What are we back in fifth grade? And hey, he wouldn’t evenbehere if I wasn’t a little bit naughty.”
“That’s true, but—”
Tilly can’t even finish her sentence. I have her bent over my desk, her jeans down at her knees and her little pink slit teasing me with just how wet she already is for me.
I’m already hard, so all it takes is a little tug on my pants and I’m sliding inside her and burying my cock as deep as it will go. I’ve been with her for five years now, and no matter how many times we do this, I’ll never get tired of it.
“So tight. So wet. You are just so fucking good, baby.” I grunt as I begin to thrust.
“It’s all yours, Daddy,” she whimpers, bucking her baby-making hips back against me. “Take me. Take me hard.”
Her words just drive me crazier. I run my hand up her back and thread my fingers through her hair, gripping it hard so I can pull it back, causing her to moan in a way that I’ve heard so many times but love so much.
It’s about our bond. Our love.
I stroke her body, the body of the woman who made her way into my heart—something I thought would never happen.
The woman who I fell in love with, who I married, who gave me a child.
It’s just so incredible I can hardly believe it sometimes.
“I wish I could be inside you forever,” I whisper as her body begins to tremble. I know I’m about to finish, fill her with my love, but I truly do wish we could wrap ourselves in the feeling of that mutual release until the end of time.
“So do I, Daddy. So do I.”