Top Dog

“Where do you want me to put them?” she asked.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, motioning toward the counter.

“It’s not a problem, really. I figured after what you told me yesterday, you could use a break from making breakfast.”

Her eyes fell on mine, and I could feel the tension growing between us.

“Would you like me to get us some milk with these?” she asked.

“I can get that,” I said. “You stay put.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I hear Lanie stirring.”

“Cimmamom?” Lanie asked.

“Lanie?” Amanda asked.

I watched as Lanie’s face lit up as she came around the corner. My niece threw herself at Amanda, wrapping her small little arms around her neck. The smile that grew on Amanda’s cheeks warmed my gut. The way she cradled Lanie in her arms, delicately but protectively, struck a chord deep in my soul.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Amanda said. “How did you sleep?”

“Good. You want cimmamom?” Lanie asked, pronouncing it only as her three-year-old self could.

“I most certainly do. Would you like a cinnamon roll?”

“Two!” Lanie said.

“Two cinnamon rolls? I don’t know, we might want to ask Uncle Brian,” Amanda said.

“Pleeeeeeease?” Lanie asked.

“You can have one to start, and if you want another afterward you can have it,” I said.

“Yes! Sit by me, Amana.”

I watched the girls sit at the table as I poured Lanie a glass of milk. I started coffee brewing for both Amanda and me, knowing I sure as hell could use it. I put a plate in front of both Amanda and Lanie, then I watched as my niece quickly grabbed a cinnamon roll and shoved it into her mouth.

“Brian?” Amanda said.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Could I bother you for a fork and a knife?”

Furrowing my brow, I pulled out the silverware Amanda asked for. I handed it to her across the table, watching her as the scent of coffee filled the room. She speared a cinnamon roll and put it on her plate, then proceeded to cut it up with her knife. I watched her curiously as she took bites of it with her fork, her lips wrapping around the silverware effortlessly.

I could feel all the blood rushing to my cock at the sight of it.

“Do you eat everything with a fork and a knife?” I asked.

“Yeah. Just a habit from my childhood,” she said. “My grandmother was a stickler for manners.”

“Ah. Old school.”

“You have no idea,” she said, giggling.

Her laughter was nice, and I felt a lightness spread through my chest at the sound of it.