Chapter 11
GABE
As I get closer to the city, traffic thickens, snarled by a dusting of fresh snow.
This time of year, Chicago can get a dusting or it can get buried.
It all depends on Mother Nature. Driving down Lake Shore Drive, traffic comes to a halt.
As I wait, I peer out over Lake Michigan, watching its choppy waves roll to shore.
It’s a gloomy, cold day. Last night, when I checked the forecast, it called for snow showers, then maybe fog in the morning.
Typical weather for this time of year in Chicago.
Traffic is still stalled, so I seek out the high-rise buildings overlooking Lake Michigan.
Layla lives in one of these. I’d like nothing more than to drive straight to her and pull her into my arms, then kiss her with everything I have.
But I need to get home. Kyra and Deacon will be there soon.
Slowly, traffic starts to move again and my phone rings. It’s hooked up to my SUV, so I answer that way. “Hey, Steph.”
“Hi, Gabe. I’m just confirming that you’ll be home by four. The kids said they’re going to pop over after school. They miss their dad.”
I smile. It always feels good to come back to Chicago. “I’ve missed them, too. Tell them to be ready to eat. I’ll be cooking tonight. And I should be home within the hour.”
“Glad to hear that. I’ll be sure to tell them.”
“Hey, I need to go. Traffic is finally starting to move again.”
“Bye, Gabe.”
“Later,” I reply, ending the call. Steph and I co-parent.
There’s no ill will between us. And for that, I am grateful.
Knowing Kyra and Deacon would stop by, I had groceries delivered and it’s ready and waiting for us.
I’ll cook dinner and enjoy some time with my kids, then see Layla once I’m free.
I can’t stop smiling. It feels damn good to be back.
I make it home and it’s like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I get to see my kids tonight, then I’ll see Layla tomorrow. And I don’t have to go back to Blue Valley until January. The next few months are going to be good ones, I can tell.
As I’m hauling all my stuff inside, I hear a key in the lock. That must be Kyra and Deacon.
Dropping off my bags at the end of the stairs, I head towards the front door.
“Dad? You home?” Kyra calls out.
“Right here!” I reply, coming around the corner. “There’s my girl!”
Kyra runs into my arms and I embrace her, hugging her tight as I swing her around, just like I’ve done for years. She’s older now, and my arms strain, but I’ll never stop doing this. I’ll accept her hugs until I die.
“Get in here,” I joke, motioning Deacon to my side. I pull him in for a group hug.
I’ve missed my kids so much. It’s only been a few months since I’ve seen them, and already they’ve changed. Deacon shot up an inch or so and he’s bulkier than I remember. Damn, my kids are growing up so fast!
“Okay, Dad,” Deacon says, backing out of the group hug. Kyra follows.
“What? I’ve missed you two. Tell me you missed me just a little bit?”
They smile. “We missed you, dad. We always do,” Kyra says. Deacon nods, agreeing.
“I’m happy to hear that. If there’s ever a day you two don’t miss me, my little ‘ole heart won’t be able to take it,” I tease, my hand over my heart.
They both roll their eyes and groan. But it’s true.
It will break my heart in two if that ever happens.
“Now. Anyone hungry? Because I’m absolutely starving after that drive,” I tell them, patting my empty belly.
“Me!” they say in unison.
“Good. I’m making my specialty.”
“Penne alla Vodka?” Kyra asks excitedly. “Or pancakes?”
“You and D can choose.”
“Pasta alla Vodka!” both chime in.
“Pasta it is,” I tell them, heading toward the kitchen.
While I’m making dinner, my phone buzzes with an incoming text.
Layla: Back in Chicago?
Gabe: Yep.
Layla: Busy?
Gabe: I’m making dinner for my kids.
Layla: Look at you. In dad mode already.
Gabe:
Layla: See you later?
Gabe: Absolutely. I’ll text you once they leave.
Layla:
Gabe:
“Who are you texting, dad?” Kyra asks as she glides into the kitchen.
Well, fuck. Do I tell her? I have to make a split decision…
I cough under my breath. “I, uh. I was texting Layla. My girlfriend.” I say, bracing for the fallout.
“Your girlfriend? No way, Dad! That’s awesome!” Kyra says excitedly. “Does mom know?”
“Not yet. But I plan to tell her soon.” Phew. That went over better than I expected.
“Hey, D! Dad has a girlfriend!” Kyra hollers to her brother, who’s sitting on the couch playing a video game.
“Good for him!” D jokes, totally uninterested.
With a sparkle in her eye, Kyra presses me about Layla. “So who is she? When did you meet her? Where does she live? What does she do?” Kyra asks excitedly, firing off question after question, just like an inquisition.
I smile, a tad amused. I was worried Kyra wouldn’t take it well, since I’m her dear old Dad. But, it turns out, she seems to be taking the news quite well. “One question at a time,” I joke, stirring the sauce.
Kyra waits patiently, genuinely interested.
“Okay. Um, I met Layla in Pittsburgh.”
“While you were on the road? God, she’s not, like, some cleat bunny, is she?”
“Kyra,” I growl softly. “Cut it out.”
“Well?” she asks. Clearly, my daughter is a bit protective of her dear old dad. I find it adorable.
“No, she’s not. She’s a grown woman close to my age. We, uh, met at a hotel bar.”
Kyra laughs. “A hotel bar?”
I laugh softly. “It’s not what you think. She was traveling for work. She’s the CEO of her own startup company.”
“Did she, like, come onto you or something? Does she even know who you are?”
I scratch my head. “She didn’t at first.”
“Oh, that’s funny. Did you tell her?”
“She knows.”
“And where does she live?”
“Right here in Chicago.”
“No way!”
“Yep.”
“Can we meet her?”
“Of course,” I say, draining the pasta.
Kyra seems satisfied, for now. But that’s a good question. When is the right time? Or is there a right time? I definitely need to ask Layla. And talk with Steph, too. Before Kyra or Deacon tell her. I don’t want there to be any drama.
Finishing up, I combine the pasta and sauce. “Dinner’s ready!” I announce. Both kids come into the kitchen and pile up the pasta. I follow suit and head to the table, where they’ve already claimed their seats.
“Catch me up,” I say to both of them. “What’s new with school?”
We chat while we eat. We talk about how school is going and even about their mom’s new boyfriend. The kids are thriving. All is well. Until Deacon drops a bomb on me.
“Tell dad about your new boyfriend, K,” he says casually, a smug look on his face.
Kyra glares at him. Judging from her reaction, she didn’t want to tell me. Which is ironic since she basically asked me twenty questions about Layla. But this is different. Layla and I are adults. Kyra is in high school. The kid dating my daughter better not mess up, or else he’ll feel my wrath.
“A boyfriend, huh? Tell me all about him.”
Her cheeks turn pink just a little bit. “Uh, he’s a grade above me. His name is Cooper.”
“Does Cooper have a last name?”
“Moore.” Deacon answers before Kyra can, never looking up from his phone.
“How serious is it?”
Kyra laughs. “Dad, come on. I just met him a couple of weeks ago.”
That’s a relief. “I’d like to meet him sometime.”
She snorts. “Same with Layla.”
“Well?”
She practically rolls her eyes at me. “Yes, Dad. You can meet him. Don’t scare him off, okay?”
I smirk. She knows the drill. “I make no guarantees.”
“Dad!” Kyra whines.
“Fine.”
“Does he go to the same school?”
“He goes to public school. Not the private school D and I go to.”
I’m going to Google the shit out of this kid. “You meet him?” I ask Deacon. I know he always looks out for his sister. Even if she thinks he doesn’t need to.
“I’ve played against him.”
Well, that’s interesting. K is dating a baseball player. I’m loving this already. “And?”
“He seems okay.”
“Just okay?”
“Kyra hasn’t brought him over to meet Mom yet.”
“Invite him over sometime.”
“I will, Dad.”
“I’d like to talk to the kid.
“Dad!”
“What? We can talk baseball. Deacon will be there, too.”
Deacon snorts. “He’ll probably want to meet Dad, K.”
It’s Kyra’s turn to snort and roll her eyes. Yeah, it’s a rough life having a father who’s a major leaguer. So rough. Not.
“Whatever. I’m ready to go,” Kyra tells Deacon.
“Alright. See you both soon?”
“Yes, Dad,” Kyra tells me, as she and Deacon leave.
Aww, teenagers.
Heading back into the kitchen, I clean up and start the dishwasher. Then I text Layla.
Gabe: You free tonight?
Layla: I am. Are you?
Gabe: I am, now. Come to me? Or I can come to you…
Layla: I’ll come to you. Be there in 20.
Gabe:
Layla:
“Layla,” I breathe, wrapping my arms around her, my lips meeting hers.
We haven’t even made it past the foyer, and we’re already in each other’s arms. When they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, it’s true.
Every time Layla and I have to leave each other, my heart grows heavy.
Then, when we meet back up, my heart feels happy and lighter.
“Gabe,” she murmurs against my lips. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
We deepen the kiss, and soon, she’s grinding her pelvis against mine, making me hard as stone. “Layla,” I growl softly near her ear.
She shudders against me, her hands going to the button of my jeans. Not to be outdone, I pull up her skirt, exposing her stockings as I push her back against the door.
“Mmm, I like.”
She smiles against my lips, but doesn’t say anything. I feel her pop the button of my jeans, then delve her hand inside. Finding my hard dick, she strokes the head, teasing me.
“Layla,” I growl again.
“Gabe,” she teases back, circling my girth with her fist.
It’s my turn to shudder. She jacks my dick, but is hampered by my jeans.
Reluctantly, she lets me go as I push my jeans down.
My dick springs out, the head weeping with precum.
Layla wraps her hands around me again, but this time she smears her thumb through the bead of precum that’s dripped down the side of my shaft and uses it as lube as she strokes me. Damn, that feels good.
Her eyes meet mine, then she sinks to the floor. Lining up my dick with her mouth, her lips come around the head and she sucks me in, all the way to the back of her throat.
“Fuuck, woman,” I groan, the pleasure spiking.
She sucks and licks me, using her tongue to lap at the precum that’s liberally flowing out of me now. I’m so hard, I feel like I could blow any minute.
“Layla,” I say, helping her back to her feet.
I push off her suit coat, my hands going for the buttons of her blouse. I make short work of them, revealing her lace bra underneath. I let out a low whistle. “Damn, woman,” I say appreciatively, staring at her ample tits, her hard nipples already pebbled, clearly visible through the sheer lace.
I touch the skirt she’s wearing, pushing it up to reveal her stockings once again. It’s sexy as fuck, and I would love nothing more than to play with her in them, but I can’t wait. I need to be inside her. Shoving up her skirt, I find she’s not wearing any panties. Hot damn!
“Have you been a bad girl, Layla?” I tease, my thumbs brushing over sex.
She trembles, her legs jolting when I run my thumb over her swollen clit that’s peeking between her softness.
“Answer me,” I growl softly, pushing a finger easily inside her. She’s sopping wet.
“Yes,” she whimpers, hanging onto me.
“Good girl,” I croon, adding a second finger. I stroke in and out, but it’s purely for pleasure. She’s already soaked and ready to take my dick. Tweaking one of her nipples through the lace, she shudders.
“Please!” she begs, close to coming.
Finding her little bundle of nerves, I stroke it and she comes on a cry.
“Gabe!” she wails, her pussy spasming around my fingers.
Quickly, I replace my fingers with my dick, sliding into her still spasming pussy.
“Fuck!” I grunt, her pussy grasping my shaft.
She sways, the pleasure too great. Wanting to get her off again, I swing her legs around my hips and push her against the door as I hammer into her.
“Layla,” I say, loving the way she feels.
It doesn’t take much, a few thrusts and a pinch of her clit and she’s coming again, crying out.
She shakes in my arms and her pussy strangles my dick and I’m a goner.
Bottoming out, I feel a white-hot lightning bolt of pleasure rip into me, then I’m coming on a low grunt, my climax searing through me, my cum shooting from the head of my dick like a cannon.
My body is literally vibrating I just came so hard. I give myself a moment, then peer down at Layla. She looks straight into my eyes. “Hi,” I say softly.
“Hi,” she whispers back.
I kiss her, then hike her legs up just a bit.
“Ready?” I ask.
She gives me a quizzical look. “I’m going to walk us over the couch.” She nods, tightening her hold on me.
Carefully, I walk us over to the couch, only slightly tripping on my jeans once we’re in front of the couch. Playfully, I turn and fall onto it, my bare ass hitting the cushions, Layla’s legs still wrapped around me.
“Made it,” I murmur. She smiles, then burrows into my chest.
I’m still inside her. I don’t think either one of us wants to break the connection, so we stay like that for a bit, only separating once we’re ready.
“Oh, uh,” she mutters as she gets off my lap, our cum spilling out and sliding down her thighs. Some of it even drips onto my thighs.
Being a little bit of a bastard, I swipe my finger through it and brush her nipples, coating them with our cum.
“Gabe!” she feigns in mock outrage.
I smirk. Our cum looks good on her.
“I need a shower,” she tells me, pulling off her skirt.
“Woman, we both need a shower.”
Later that evening, we lay in bed together, relaxing and enjoying each other’s company.
“How does it feel to be back?” she asks me.
“It feels good. Damn good.”
“How about you? Happy I’m in Chicago?” I tease.
“What do you think?” she teases right back, tracing her index finger between the groove of my abs.
“I’d say so.”
She nods and gives me a smile, then delves her hand lower.
I growl softly in warning, my dick getting hard instantly.
She smirks. She knows exactly what she’s doing.
Pouncing, I roll her under me and sink into her sweet heat.
This time, though, we take our time in our lovemaking, cherishing each other.