His First Cherry Pie: A Double Virgin Valentine

After our first night together, she moved in. I didn’t even let her go home one night. We packed her things, and she’s been with me ever since. There’s been no talk of things moving too fast or anything like that because the truth is, it’s taken us four years to get here, and we’re not going to waste any more time.

However, there is one thing I’ve learned that I’ve come to hate since she’s moved in and that’s when I wake up alone, like this morning. It doesn’t happen a lot, but when it does, I feel all caveman like and go searching through the house for her, ready to take her back to bed and wake her the right way... with my head between her legs.

I climb out of bed and don’t even try to hide my scowl. I pull on my underwear, make a pit stop at the bathroom, and then go downstairs to search for my woman. She’s easy to find. All I have to do is follow the smell of bacon, but it’s not food I want. It’s her.

She’s standing at the stove, and I take just a minute to watch her cook. She’s in my old high school T-shirt, and I watch her sway back and forth as she starts pulling things off the stove. When she sets the plates on the counter, I block her with a hand on the counter on each side of her. “You’re in trouble, Willa.”

She giggles and presses her ass back against me. Even though I mean it, I really do hate waking up with her gone, she’s not scared of me in the least. “Oh yeah, and what are you going to do about it?”

I put my hands on her hips and bring her against me, so my already hard cock presses against the seam of her ass. “I’m going to take you back to bed with me.”

She moans, and I’m about to say fuck it, I don’t need a bed for what I want, but she stops me when she turns in my arms. “First, you eat breakfast... read the paper, and then we can go back upstairs.”

The way she says paper, I know what she’s doing. Her write-up on me is coming out today, and she’s been so excited about it there’s no way I’m going to put it off. “Fine, paper and then you on your back in our bed.”

“And food,” she says, darting under my arm and carrying a plate to the table.

We sit down, and she lays the paper down in front of me. I pick it up and open it to the sports section.

She’s watching me closely as I read the words she wrote. She talks about my stats in the league and what some of my teammates have said about me. There are so many things she knows about me, and I didn’t even have to tell her. Reading this, I really look good, and I know my face is red. Probably my favorite part is the ending. “Who is JD Ryan? He’s a son, a friend, a mentor, a man that you would want your kids to look up to. He’s a hard worker and a hell of a teammate—just ask the guys that he works with day in and day out. But most of all, he’s a good man. He’s proven on and off the field that he deserves everything good that comes his way. Any team—anyone for that matter—would be lucky to have him.”

I’m speechless reading it. For so long, I’ve felt like I have something to prove.

“You don’t like it?” Willa asks.

I look over at her, and she’s frowning. I realize I’ve been caught up, thinking about the past and my time without Willa. “I love it,” I tell her honestly. “You make me look really good.”

She shakes her head and stands up. She moves toward me, and I sit back to let her settle in my lap. Her hands go to the side of my neck. “You are good, JD. You’re so good. I mean it. You don’t have to prove anything anymore. You’re the man that I want.”

I look into her eyes. “Did you mean it? When you said I’m a man that you’d want your kids to look up to?”

She puts her forehead to mine. “Yeah, baby. When WE have kids, I know they’re going to look up to you and they’re going to be so lucky to have you for a daddy.”