With them here, the house was different. Kids laughed within the walls. How unlike the lonely days when I would lay in my bed and listen to the rain hit the window and imagine that the rain’s pitter patter was my son’s voice.
Now every morning, I woke up with excitement—a pip in my step. A song in my heart. Hope came as I wondered what way Jalen would make me laugh today. Or how Kia would outsmart her brother this time. Or even what new words Poppy would say.
Surely, the dogs felt the same way. Salt continued to sleep by my bed, but Pepa had been a lot to deal with in the evening. She always scratched my bedroom door to get out. Once I thought she was signaling to go to the bathroom. When I opened the door, she went straight to Ebony and the kids’ bedroom and whined. I had to force her to come back in my bedroom.
It appeared that Pepa was now Poppy’s dog.
The little furry traitor. All it took was an adorable face.
But Pepa wasn’t the only one in the house changing or switching routines.
My monthly sessions of self-pleasure has shifted to nightly. I’d promised to only stroke myself to Ebony’s vision once. But I’d lied to myself. I couldn’t control my desires anymore. Every time I inhaled Ebony; my body went wild. Every moment she tossed those lovely locs over her shoulder, I yearned to touch them and curl them around my fingers. Ebony’s accidental brushes of her arm in the kitchen, her laughter at my rapping and dancing, and even the kindness emitted the brightest light into the darkest corners of my heart.
So within the privacy of my shower, I jacked my cock to fantasies of her naked and moaning under me. So far, I’d fucked her many ways in my mind. Missionary and on her back. On all fours and with her on top, riding my cock. Owning me.
She was captivating and warm and so fucking soft. Something as simple as her smile triggered joy in my day. Because when she smiled, it came slow, beginning with a faint curve of those full lips. And then it spread, showing dimples in each cheek. And those brown eyes lit up to pure brightness.
She’s changing me too.
I spent hours in my studio beyond the living room, painting her face and trying to capture it’s true beauty. But I never could. Canvas after canvas, I failed. That heart-shaped face. Those high cheek bones. That cute nose. I couldn’t capture her. The pure essence. The life in her eyes. How the light always hit her hair.
And that was just her face.
Ebony had lush curves that I longed to explore. Those rounded hips and tempting breasts. Those thick thighs and the guaranteed softness between them.
She had no idea what she was doing to me. I did my best to keep it in, but damn that woman had become addicting. I craved her. I had to have her. I was hungry to taste her skin and those full lips. I was greedy to make her mine.
But not yet. Ebony still feared men. Companionship. Closeness. The simple touch from a male. Wyatt had destroyed it. Due to him, I would have to work past that fear.
Perhaps, that was what made me attracted to her too. Her strength. She had survived on little to nothing with three kids. Somehow she found a hustle to help her keep afloat. She lived these past years alone—just the kids and her—afraid to get close to anyone, having to keep them all hidden.
One day, Ebony is going to be mine.
No longer did guilt come with dirty thoughts of her.
I knew I would take care of her, once I had her in my arms. I knew I would love her, treat her right. Do more than her husband had. Be more. Seek more. If only she would give me a chance.
And she will, but I have to take my time. I can’t rush this.
And I had to make sure that she was safe from that maniac. He had to die. I didn’t know how or when, but I would end his life. My happiness depended on it. The kids safety required it. Ebony’s soul needed it.
We all deserved a happy ending.
Hadn’t we all gone through enough? They’d been beaten and abused. I’d lost my wife and son. In these past years, we’d all been running from monsters—whether big or small. We all had scars that still hadn’t healed. Fear and suffering had dominated both of our pasts.
I saw myself in each of them. I understood the trauma. The pain. The fear. The giving up of joy because it didn’t seem possible.
And now they’d been here for a week and it had become the best seven days of my life. There had never been so much laughter on my property. So much singing and dancing. So much cooking and racing around with joy.