Chapter 42 - August
In the kitchen, I scan the tree line through the frosted windows, just to be sure the fresh layer of snow isn’t hiding anything.
Satisfied there’s no one lying in wait, I retrieve the ingredients from the fridge.
Deliveries from Katar and Murder Spice delivered on their visit to the cabin.
They left late last night, preferring the cover of darkness to sneak back into the city, chasing intel and ammunition.
I add bacon to the Old Mountain cast-iron saucepan, heat it and let it sizzle away.
When that’s half done, I crack eggs and cook them in the fat.
Grandma taught me that they taste better cooked this way.
She’s not wrong. Pancake batter comes together quickly with water and the pre-made mix.
The fried food drains fat on paper towels, kept warm in the oven until everything’s ready.
I ladle the batter into the hot grease to pick up the smoky, salty flavor.
Another grandmother special. Kate’s favorite when I’ve cooked it for her before.
“What happened to guard duty?” I ask him.
He tilts his head as if to say he deserves a reward for his efforts.
“You can have some when your momma does,” I tell him.
He counters with a dramatic sigh and flops on the wooden floor. The little goblin is adopting his mother’s sassy habits.
By the time everything is ready, the cabin smells like a home I never want to leave.
I’m humming Celine Dion’s Power of Love as I plate everything on the bed trays.
Adding a dessert course, I strip off my clothes and fold them on the sitting chair.
God forbid I leave them in a messy pile for my sleeping neat freak.
I hook the apron over my neck and tie it up and carry everything to the bedroom to give Cinderella her wake-up kiss.
We’ll just have to pretend there’s whipped cream on top of the fantasy, since we don’t have any.
She’s still dozing as I nudge the door open with my knee and creep into the room. I love her wild and messy, tangled in the blankets, pillow creases stamped across her cheek.
I set the trays on the armchair, rest a knee on the mattress, and dip to brush my lip on her cheek.
“Room service,” I announce.
Her eyes crack open, blink, and sweep to me, then widen.
She snaps the knife from beneath her pillow, and it trembles in the air.
Her fear and vigilance are warranted. She’s waiting for the sky to fall, still afraid the Romans will come after us.
They may. They’re still in power and won’t give it up without a hell of a battle.
We’ll dodge shadows, switch burner phones, and move from safehouse to safehouse if we have to.
For now, I want her to worry about other things.
Domestic bliss and pretending it’s not a war zone.
“It’s just me, Glitter Bomb.” I take the knife from her and drop it on the bedside table. “You don’t need to be scared.”
I fold her into my arms and calm her racing pulse.
“What smells good, King Daddy?” She forgot that I let her sleep while I cooked for her.
“Breakfast.” I climb off the bed.
“That’s not the only thing that smells good.” My girl’s back despite the hint of fear lingering behind her eyes that may take months to shake.
Slowly, she pushes up onto her elbows, gaze dragging from my bare chest to the apron tied at my waist, and my dick waving to her from beneath. I wave my hips from side to side and swing my heavy cock.
She claps and bounces on the mattress. “It’s a Dicktober surprise!”
“Shut the fuck up, baby, and eat your breakfast like a good girl.” I lift the trays onto the bed, and she sits up for me.
Her hands come together in praise, and she rests her top teeth over her bottom lip. “You make a damn fine househusband, King Daddy.”
PJ3 snorts and jumps onto the bed to remind her who’s ruling this kingdom.
I lift her table from mine and grab my plate and coffee. “For my glitter queen. Earl Grey tea steeped for three minutes, just the way you like it. Extra maple syrup. Bacon crispy and eggs over easy.”
PJ3 groans and slaps a paw over his eyes as if we’ve permanently scarred his canine soul. Drama queen.
I hold my hands over his ears and whisper, “Dick hard and ready. Not to be poked with forks.”
Kate arms herself with a fork and admires the maple syrup drizzled over her strawberry-topped pancakes. “I hope you didn’t get bacon burns under the apron. I’ll have to kiss said dick better.”
Fuck. I harden further. I want her mouth on me. Right. Fucking. Now.
I cover the dog’s ears again. “Not in front of the child. You’re getting a spanking for that.”
She excitedly wriggles her free fingers. “Brat mode engaged.”
I dip and take her lips in a quick kiss instead, my dick protesting. “Eat up, Glitter Bomb. I’ve got more surprises in store once you finish.”
She sneaks a slice of strawberry on her fork. “Are they edible?”
I chuckle and settle in beside her. “You’ll have to find out.”
I tear off a small fragment of bacon and lift it to her lips, and she slowly sucks it into her mouth.
“King Daddy’s full of surprises today, isn’t he?” She feeds the dog a small piece of meat.
She’s beautiful in the light. Makeup-free. Technicolor hair in waves down her back. Silky nightgown clinging to her curves.
“Come here, Daddy.” She lifts a slice of pancake for me.
I lean in and open for her, accepting this sugar-coated heaven.
“Good Daddy.” Her eyes sparkle.
PJ3 gets jealous at the lack of attention, and I feed him a portion. “No more. Salty meat is bad for dogs.”
“Oh, don’t be such a grouch, Daddy. We might die tomorrow. Live a little.” Kate brushes the back of my head and curls her fingers into my hair. She hasn’t stopped touching it since I’ve removed my helmet.
The terrier barks, sharp and demanding, backing her up. We don’t negotiate in this house, we stage coups.
I pet his head instead of overworking his kidneys with sodium. “I’ve put serial killers away with less attitude.”
PJ3 yaps again. Yeah, not happening.
I tear a strip of bacon and coat her lips in the grease I’ll lick clean. “For the warrior queen who survived.”
She sinks her teeth into it, slowly drawing it into her mouth and chewing with a teasing smile. When she swallows, I flick my tongue on her lips and taste her and the salty bacon. She groans and presses her mouth harder into me.
“Your turn, King Daddy.” She spears a strawberry, swirls it in syrup, and lifts it to my lips.
I open for her and let her slide it into my mouth and wrap my lips around her fork, sucking hard. Jesus, this is going to turn spicy in seconds if we keep this up, but I don’t care.
I fork a fluffy triangle of pancake and nudge it in her direction. “Open for me, brat.”
“You’re such a feeder.” She does as she’s told but has to get the last word in.
I curl my hand over PJ3’s ears. “It’s my job to feed you, keep you safe, warm, and sexed up.”
She hums her agreement. “I love vengeance served with fried eggs and orgasms.”
My Glitter Bomb demolishes the breakfast I feed her like she hasn’t eaten in days… and she hasn’t been on a regular meal schedule since her sleazy boss ignited Armageddon. I love watching her eat. Love that she doesn’t pick at her food like a bird.
I can’t look away from her syrup and grease-glossed lips. I can get used to mornings like this. Her like this. Every damn day, if the world lets us. I hope our story goes off book and we get our happy ending until we’re old and cranky, arguing over syrup brands.
“Up for a hike this morning?” I grab the tea towel and start drying the breakfast dishes she’s scrubbing in soapy water.
Breakfast ended with a very happy Glitter Bomb, some spicy action, and a steamy shower follow-up. A little warmup before the main event I’ve planned.
“The mountains are beautiful this time of year.” I nod toward the window where morning sunlight spills across the ridgelines.
“I want to show you some spots my dad, brother, and I went hiking and camping. I grew up in these woods.” My gaze pans the distant trails, familiar, worn, and wild that filled my childhood years.
“Only if we play a game of primal play.” She rinses the dishes and puts them in the drying rack.
I roll my head in her direction, anticipating some dark romance reference. “Do I want to know what that is?”
“You know.” She shrugs and scrubs a plate. “A little run and chase.”
I twist the towel in my hand, remembering everything she’s lived through. “Do you mean that as a joke?”
The smile on her face dies. “No. It’s a fantasy of mine.”
I drape the towel over my shoulder and close the distance, pulling her flush to me. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
Her eyes glint like she dares the world to test her again. “I’m choosing fantasy, not a cure. You know me, I’m a face-it-head-on kind of girl, King Daddy. Fear only wins if I let it. And I feel safe with you.”
My mouth lifts into a proud smile. She doesn’t run from what frightens her, she trains it into obedience. “You’re so fucking brave, Glitter Bomb.” I brush her chin with my thumb. “If at any stage you’re not ready, then tell me.”
“I will, Daddy.”
“Alright.” I cup her cheek, my fingers damp from the dishwater.
She leans in before I second-guess it. The kiss starts soft, a thank you, a promise, and a challenge all in one breath. Her hands hook my shirt, and she deepens it, the air between us humming with pure trust.
When we part, I rub her shoulder and say, “We’ll combine your play with a scenic and strategic hike.”
She groans, goes back to washing a coffee mug in the soapy water. “Of course, you have a plan.”
I smack her ass with the rolled-up towel. “We’ll place weapons, ammunition, and supplies in specific locations if we need to retreat from an ambush. It may be the difference between survival and death.”