That One Day (That One #1.5) (28 page)

I’m on my way home from class. It’s the end of January and snow is every-fucking-where. I exhale slowly to keep the road rage under control, but it’s hard with drivers who act as if they’ve never seen snow before. We’re moving at a snail’s pace and at this rate, I’ll eat the donuts I bought for Frankie to prevent myself from starving.

It’s only five but already dark out. Everybody and their mother seem to be on the same road as I am. The donuts look more delicious by the minute.

After I brought them home the first time after class, Frankie was addicted. They are from this tiny German bakery and today’s selection is filled with a vanilla custard cream.

My classes have been going great. Before I started, I was convinced I was really good at what I do, but damn, there’s a lot of shit I didn’t know. What I’m learning makes my work even more efficient.

It helps that I found a job with a carpenter, working a few hours once or twice a week. All the tricks I learn make it easier to turn my old room into Archer’s room. It’s a fun project—putting in all the stuff I would have loved as a kid. On one of my walks, I found an old tree trunk with a few sturdy branches. With Archer in the baby carrier on my back, I dragged the tree back to the house, earning myself a few headshakes and glares from the older neighbors.

Now the tree is attached to the wall, a hammock chair hanging from one of the branches, which I secured with some brackets so the chair can support Frankie or me when we read to Archer. Viv has been painting trees, flowers, animals, and whatnot on the walls and it’s fucking awesome. Once I finish the bench and the shelves, we’ll be able to move Archer into his room and then I can have my way with his mother. Every night if I want to.

Not that we are abstinent at the moment—it’s just way trickier than it has to be with all the people living in the house and sharing a room with our son. The shed and shower have become our favorite places.

Taking another turn, the traffic comes to a standstill again.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s just snow,” I mutter, frustration taking over. I’d like to get home sometime today. Alex and Dean are out for dinner and Viv is spending time with her fuck buddy. Dave left two weeks ago and is currently spending time in hell, also known as his parents’ house, after he told them about dropping out of college. So, it’ll be just me and Frankie for a few hours after Archer is asleep, if I ever get the fuck home. I yell the last thought out loud. This is the one frustrating thing about taking classes in Boston. The traffic is like a medieval torture device, slowly taking your will to live.

I glance at the box on the passenger seat and lift the lid. Damn, those donuts smell delicious. Grabbing one, I take a bite. If I weren’t so in love with Frankie, I’d marry the baker, even if he is a big, burly guy with a potbelly and a bald head. I take the last bite, licking my fingers, when the traffic finally gets rolling again and thankfully this time it doesn’t stop until I’m home.

With the box in my hands, I walk through the door. Loud music greets me, allowing my entrance to go unnoticed. I set down my bag and the box, slip of my jacket, and lean against the wall, watching the show. And a show it is.

Frankie has moved the playpen and the coffee table to the side, creating a makeshift dancefloor in the middle of the living room. There she’s dancing with Archer in her arms to “Happy” by Pharrell Williams. She has this obsession with the
Despicable Me
movies and this song in particular. She shakes her ass and twirls around in time with the beat. Her singing attempts are a completely different ballgame. She sings like a cat being skinned alive. It gets even worse when the chorus comes around and she attempts to hit the high notes.

But Archer, the brave little trooper, doesn’t seem to mind. While she dances with him, bellowing the lyrics, he’s giggling and laughing. They both look so happy, like they don’t have a care in the world.

In this moment, I feel like an intruder, considering I’m bringing all my issues into their lives. Archer pushes these thoughts away when he calls out to me. “Dada.” He points at me, smiling.

Frankie turns around to find me leaning against the wall. Her eyes flash with something warm and welcoming. Adjusting Archer’s weight to her left arm, she crooks her finger at me, beckoning me closer, all the while not stopping her rendition. I laugh, shaking my head.

Her lips draw into a small pout, her eyes taking on the lost puppy look. Again, I shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips.

Rolling her eyes, she dances over to me and takes my hand, leading me onto the improvised dancefloor. Her wide, sparkly eyes are asking me to join in on the fun. She starts to shrug one shoulder to the music, then the other. Then her ass starts wiggling and she grins up at me. How the hell am I supposed to resist this? And why would I want to?

I step closer to her, one hand going straight to her ass, the other around her and Archer and we dance. I spin us in circles until I’m worried one of them is going to end up puking on me.

Frankie keeps on singing, ignoring my occasional burst of laughter when she skins the next metaphorical cat.

Only when the song ends do we come to a standstill—both out of breath, all three of us with big smiles on our faces. I draw her closer, giving her a slow, sensual kiss.

“Hi, babe.”

She licks her lips, her breath labored as she lets out a dreamy sigh.

“Hey, little man,” I say, kissing Archer’s nose.

Frankie plops down on the couch, Archer in her arms, pulling me down with her. She’s still smiling, trying to catch her breath. Suddenly, she stills.

“Wait.” She turns to face me. “You taste of vanilla custard. You ate a donut.” She spins around, scanning the room. The moment she notices the box she smiles big, hands Archer to me, and climbs over the back of the couch, going straight for the box.

I stand Archer up on the couch, caging him in between my arms as we watch his mother. She opens the box, a sigh coupled with a moan escaping her lips. Taking one donut out, she inhales the aroma before taking a big bite. Her eyes roll back before she closes them, the expression very similar to her orgasm face. Within seconds, the donut is gone. I’m not sure if she breathed at all while devouring it or if she inhaled it whole. She licks her fingers and comes back to the couch looking satisfied.

She bends down to kiss me. “Thank you for the donuts, Ben.”

“Judging by the look on your face, you need to thank me for yet another orgasm.”

“Baby, if you ever leave me, I’m starting an affair with the baker. If anything gave me an orgasm just now, it was his baked goods,” she deadpans, leaving me speechless for a moment.

“I tell you what. We’ll put Archer to bed and then I can thank you properly.” She gives me a sultry look and proceeds to lift Archer up into her arms and takes off toward the stairs.

I blow out a big breath, willing my blood to supply the parts of my body above my waistline.

We put Archer to bed in his future room. Though it isn’t fully finished, it’s definitely good enough to sleep in. The things I have in mind for Frankie tonight are definitely not things our son should witness.

It would appear Frankie and I are on the same page. We’re barely through the door to our room when she spins us around, pushing my back against the door.

“I still need to thank you for the donuts.” Her words are hardly more than a husky whisper as she lowers herself to her knees, looking up at me through hooded eyes, a sexy smirk on her face.

“Yeah, I remember you mentioning something.” I grin back at her.

In response, she opens the button and lowers the zipper of my jeans. I suck in a breath when her knuckles skim along my cock. A smug smile flickers across her face before she licks her lips.

Jesus, I can’t fucking wait to feel her mouth on my cock.

Taking ahold of both my jeans and boxers, she pulls them down until my cock springs free, ready for action.

Her fingers dance along my skin, making their way around my cock. I’m trying to hold still and keep my hips from thrusting forward. I wouldn’t want to poke her in the eye by accident, but if she keeps up the teasing, all bets are off.

As if reading my mind, she palms my cock. Her hand squeezes softly, making me hiss. The view from up here is perfect. Frankie on her knees, her eyes burning with desire as she looks up at me, her hand around my cock and her mouth about to follow as she runs her tongue from the base to the head, swirling it around. Her tongue feels soft, wet, and hot, causing my cock to throb in excitement.

I push my hips forward a bit, unable to hold still any longer.

“Are you trying to kill me?” I grind out.

“No, where would be the fun in that?” she replies in a sultry voice, although I detect a hint of a smile in it.

Leaning forward again, she brings her tongue to the tip of my cock and starts licking circles around the head, her fist clenching and unclenching around the base.

She draws me in, her hand mimicking the motion of her bobbing head. The heat of her mouth and the wetness are too much. I close my eyes and let my head fall back against the door. My hands tangle in her short hair to ensure she doesn’t pull away again.

She moans, the hum sending electric jolts through my cock and up my spine. My breathing grows ragged, my hands now pulling her closer as I thrust harder.

“Oh fuck, Frankie,” I moan when she sucks me deeper, my cock hitting the back of her throat.

I completely lose my rhythm, the thrusts quickly becoming erratic and unrestrained.

“Shit, Frankie, I’m gonna…” I try to force the words out between two ragged breaths, but she doesn’t give me a chance to finish the sentence when she makes a noise in the back of her throat—a mix between a moan and a hum—and I’m gone. Convulsing, I find my release, coming into her mouth. My fingers are fisting her hair, holding her close as my body judders and trembles, my knees nearly giving out on me.

I watch her swallow without hesitation, her eyes dark with lust. She keeps sucking and licking until she’s milked every last drop from me and only then does she release my cock with a pop.

“Holy hell.” I inhale a deep breath, attempting to calm my racing heart.

I hold out a hand to her and she takes it, letting me pull her up and into my arms.

“Fuck me. That was a great thank you. Remind me to bring you donuts every day.”

Her head pressed against my chest, I can feel her shaking when she laughs. “You trying to up my protein intake?”

“You’ve been eating less meat lately. I just want to make sure you get all the nutrients you need,” I tease, pulling my pants back on. I push her toward the bed. She falls back onto it, throwing her head back and laughing while I crawl on top of her.

“Now, it’s my turn to get a taste of you.”

She shakes her head, pursing her lips. “Sorry, my vagina is closed for maintenance.” She smiles apologetically.

“Your vagina is what? What, are you replacing the piping?” I blink in confusion.

“I’m on my period, silly. So you’re not getting anywhere near the goods.” She reaches up with her hand, pulling me in for another kiss. “But you are the lucky winner of a shitload of cuddles and snuggles to appease my hormonal heart.”

I flip us over, so she’s laying half on top of me. “I think I can handle that.” I kiss the top of her head before I start laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Frankie lifts up her head, looking at me curiously.

“I just remembered when you got your period for the first time.”

She groans, burrowing her head in my neck. “Oh, don’t remind me.”

“It was funny as hell.”

“For you maybe.”

“Well, yeah. Dave and I couldn’t stop laughing for days after we asked you if you wanted to hang out with us that day, go to the park to play some ball. You were what…twelve?”

“Thirteen,” she grumbles annoyed, but there’s a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Dave called up to your room and suddenly, we hear the bang of the door against the wall and you stomping downstairs yelling, ‘No, I won’t go anywhere. My life is over.’ ”

Now Frankie is laughing too. “You two looked at me as if I lost my mind.”

“No, we knew you’d lost your mind a long time ago. But we had no idea what you were talking about until you started yelling at us, ‘I hate this shit. You assholes with your dicks and ability to pee standing up. I hope your dicks shrivel and fall off.’ ”

“And you two just stood there, looking dumbfounded, saying ‘okay.’ ”

“Dave definitely was more courageous than I was, asking you what the hell happened. You stomped past us, slugged him in the arm on the way, and threw yourself face down on the couch, mumbling into the cushion ‘I’ve got my period. I want to die.’ ”

Frankie’s body is shaking she’s laughing so hard.

“I was a tad dramatic, wasn’t I?”

“You think?” I joke, pinching her waist.

“Just for the record, I still hate you guys for being able to pee standing up.”

“Fair enough. But you were such a miserable bitch, we were relieved you didn’t want to go out with us.”