25. Georgia
I feel fucking amazing.
Everything is light and airy—the birds are chirping, the house is quiet, and I feel like I slept on a cloud last night. Sighing, I snuggle deeper into the thick pillow beneath me.
“Mornin’, Sunshine.” Derek’s deep, sleep-riddled voice startles me awake.
Derek?!
My eyes are wide as I peer up at him from his bare chest. Looking down slightly, I note that I am also, in fact, naked and let out a shaky breath.
“Oh… my God—I slept with you last night.” I chuckle, rolling off of his chest, covering my smile with my hands. Derek rolls to his side and pulls me back into his chest. The feel of him pressed against my back soothes me as his thumb rubs the skin underneath my breast.
I guess it’s safe to tell Georgia from two months ago that she did, in fact, enjoy sex with Derek like she’d always daydreamed about.
He lets out an amused chuckle from behind me, “I told you you’d know…”
“Cocky much?” I tease back as he squeezes me a bit tighter to him.
“I don’t know, you tell me. You were the one screaming—”
Gasping loud and dramatically, I twist in his arms and cover his mouth.
“Who knew that sex would make you such a cocky asshole?”
He grins under my hand, licking it. “I think you did.”
Rolling my eyes, I twist back around, allowing him to spoon me. We lie in contemptuous silence for a bit. I’m on the verge of falling back asleep in his arms when he kisses the back of my head.
Derek pries himself from me, slowly getting out of the bed. “Get some more rest, I’ll get breakfast started up.”
And so I do. I sleep like the fucking dead, which only lasts for about thirty minutes, seeing as he returns to bed with a tray full of pancakes and sausage.
“M’lady.” He bows, placing the food in front of me on a tray.
Giggling, I allow him to set the food up for me, swirling whipped cream and syrup on my stack of pancakes.
A few minutes later, Derek slides next to me, his own food ready to be devoured. We sit in a comfortable silence, watching reruns of Golden Girls as we eat breakfast.
When I feel his eyes on me, I smile to myself.
“It’s impolite to stare,” I say, looking everywhere but his piercing eyes as he breaks out a mouthwatering grin.
“You got a little…” He reaches out to swipe something off my lip with his thumb before pausing a mere inch from my lips. He hesitates, licking his own lips before something comes over him.
I raise a brow as he leans in close, taking my lips in a tantalizing kiss.
He circles my tongue with his own, giving me pleasure in ways I hadn’t known kissing could.
I hum as the kiss grows sloppy. He sucks and bites my bottom lip, his hand cupping my jaw before he lifts it a bit, moving the kiss down my neck.
I’m a mess, writhing under him as he sucks and kisses my neck with an unearthly hunger. When Derek pulls back, I’m on the edge.
“Got it…”
“I got it! I got it, Papá!” Delilah exclaims with a pout as Derek chuckles, clearly happy to be rage-baiting his four-year-old daughter.
“Let me do it, Sunshine. I don’t want you to make a mess in your new outfit,” he says, a sly smirk on his face as she huffs, turning to me.
I roll my lips in, hiding my smile as Delilah stomps her feet my way and plants herself in my lap.
“He’s not being very nice. Maybe if you kiss him, he’ll be nicer,” she says with a small whine as my brows raise to my hairline.
“And who told you that kissing someone makes them feel better?”
Delilah ponders the question for a moment before shrugging. “Uncle Cupid!”
Nodding, I chuckle. “Of course, he did…”
After Derek and I had breakfast a few days ago, it turned into an all-out ravishing of one another. We “christened” every room that we could, giving ourselves to one another before Delilah got home yesterday.
Now, we’re having a small tea party before dinner tonight with his mom.
Considering how our first dinner with his mother went, I guess it's safe to assume that she doesn’t really like me.
Though I have no idea why—I’m a great wife.
Sure, I don’t cook, have a fiery personality, and can barely keep it together most days.
But those factors don’t mean that I can’t help run a home successfully. I mean, look at Delilah.
My eyes wander to the four-year-old in the living room, play-fighting with Agnes, who’s been jumping all over her. The two of them are barking at one another and having a blast—until Delilah decides that Agnes will also be joining our tea party and now must be in proper attire for the event.
I roll my lips in to suppress a laugh as Agnes lets out an annoyed yip, begrudgingly allowing her to put a tutu on her.
Delilah dresses Agnes in a yellow tutu to match her own and giggles when the puppy huffs, plopping down next to her.
I continue to sketch what's been on my mind the past few days as Derek makes our tea for us.
I feel warm and content with all of us like this, but a piece of me knows that this won’t last. Maybe it’s my mind playing tricks on me because of the past year that I’ve had, or maybe it’s the truth. But if there’s one thing that I do know—I won’t let this feeling slip away.
I work hard to finish what feels like my first piece in years.
The detailed dress reminds me of Delilah in many ways, from its pastel yellow skirt to the sweetheart neckline and tulle shoulder straps that resemble large bows—I can imagine Delilah in this dress when she gets older.
It’s whimsical but also elegant and poised.
I smile to myself as everything comes together before my eyes.
I can feel Derek before I see him; his presence is large in the small living room. He takes a seat next to me on the couch, immediately putting my legs in his lap and massaging my feet as I finish the sketch.
“It’s been coming to you more and more lately,” he says as he slides in closer, my thighs now across his lap.
“It is,” I say, smiling as I open a new page and begin to sketch a youth-aged dress that resembles the first one.
Derek leans in close, placing a small kiss on my temple. “I knew you’d get it.”
Pausing, I lock eyes with him and smile. “Did you?”
“Of course, I have faith in you. Always.”
I look away from him immediately, my cheeks hot and red like fresh roses as I lock my eyes back on my sketchbook. He’s been more affectionate lately, watching me when he doesn’t think I’m paying attention, forehead and shoulder kisses every morning and night, and midday hugs between courses.
It feels refreshing to be treated like I matter by a man—not saying that I need a man’s validation to know my worth, because I don’t.
I’m an excellent woman. I’m in my early twenties, and I have everything going for me, but to have other people notice these things…
I don’t know. It makes me feel special, and I think that that’s what scares me too.
Because when someone makes themselves important and special in your life, as Derek is becoming for me, it hurts like hell when they show their true colors.
I see yellow in him it’s bright and happy like the sun, but when you stare too close at the sun, you go blind.