warm embrace. This woman spoils me more than my mamma. Well, maybe not as much, but she is a good substitute. I love having her in my life.
“The fridge is stocked with beers, potatoes are in the oven, and your shirts are all pressed and hanging up for you. I wasn’t sure which ones you would like to take,” she says sweetly, folding down that mumsy little apron she wears.
“Have I told you how much I love you, and how beautiful you look today with your new haircut? I get to see more of your beautiful face. I like it on you.” I charm her and give her a wink before making my way over to lift the top off the cake tray.
She swiftly smacks my hand away. “Not before dinner, young man, and yes, you tell me every day. Thank you for noticing my haircut. Don’t you think I perhaps look older?” she chirps merrily, turning the slow cooker down.
“Older? Fuck no. You look twenty years younger. I cannot wait to parade you about on my arm in the village.” I beam a megawatt smile at her, dimple and all.
“Language, young man. And stop flirting. It’s not good for Peter’s ego. Although, as always, I’m flattered. You really do need to get a girlfriend. This house is far too big for just you, Lucca. It is about time you had a wife and filled it full of kids,” she says, opening the oven to check on the spuds.
“Your husband knows I have a crush on you. If I fill him full of whiskey, he will never know we have run off into the sunset. And I do not need a wife in my life, Rose, when I have you.” I wink, breaking a piece of cinnamon bun off and munching it. She tsk-tsks, rolling her eyes and waving me off with her finger.
Rose has been desperate for me to find the right person. She goes on about children and me being lonely, but I do not really think about loneliness because I am too busy working. When I mention that she and Peter have gone through life without having kids, she points out that they have but they also have each other. She says I need someone. A significant other.
There was a brief moment at New Year’s I felt a pang of emptiness watching my brothers bringing in the bells with their wives.
It reinforced that I do not have anyone to share intimate and special moments with, but I dismissed the notion. I have not thought about it again, not until today. I think about Lexi, the feelings I had after sharing time with her, and the addiction she has left me with.
I desire her like no other. My gut instinct tells me she would be someone to share special moments with.
A warmth heats my skin just thinking about her. If I were ever to share my bed … my house … my life and my heart with someone, then it would be with a woman like her. It would be with her.
I can imagine her walking barefoot around my home, standing in this very kitchen, sharing meals with me. I imagine being curled up on the sofa, having her legs wrapped around my waist in the pool, her small little body leaning against my chest in the bathtub.
Shit, I feel a hard, sudden stab in my heart leaving a pang of hollowness. Emptiness. There is a void in my life and I know just how to fill it.
Rose is right, just like my parents and grandparents … I need to settle down. Work is a good distraction, as is a quick mindless fuck now and then, but I will never feel complete or truly happy until I feel loved and can give love sharing my life with someone.
I grab a quick shower before the lads arrive for the Champions league football final. Throwing on jeans and a plain white T-shirt, I return to my bathroom to pick up my running clothes from today and hold my T-shirt up to my nose, inhaling a sweet, head-tripping scent, recalling luscious chocolate eyes close to mine, plump lips close to mine, and the most beautiful smile in the whole damn world.
Sweet flowers … traces of musky feminine perfume—the lingering kind. Fucking drug. I inhale it until I feel dizzy then catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Fucking pussy.
What am I? Sixteen
“The fridge is stocked with beers, potatoes are in the oven, and your shirts are all pressed and hanging up for you. I wasn’t sure which ones you would like to take,” she says sweetly, folding down that mumsy little apron she wears.
“Have I told you how much I love you, and how beautiful you look today with your new haircut? I get to see more of your beautiful face. I like it on you.” I charm her and give her a wink before making my way over to lift the top off the cake tray.
She swiftly smacks my hand away. “Not before dinner, young man, and yes, you tell me every day. Thank you for noticing my haircut. Don’t you think I perhaps look older?” she chirps merrily, turning the slow cooker down.
“Older? Fuck no. You look twenty years younger. I cannot wait to parade you about on my arm in the village.” I beam a megawatt smile at her, dimple and all.
“Language, young man. And stop flirting. It’s not good for Peter’s ego. Although, as always, I’m flattered. You really do need to get a girlfriend. This house is far too big for just you, Lucca. It is about time you had a wife and filled it full of kids,” she says, opening the oven to check on the spuds.
“Your husband knows I have a crush on you. If I fill him full of whiskey, he will never know we have run off into the sunset. And I do not need a wife in my life, Rose, when I have you.” I wink, breaking a piece of cinnamon bun off and munching it. She tsk-tsks, rolling her eyes and waving me off with her finger.
Rose has been desperate for me to find the right person. She goes on about children and me being lonely, but I do not really think about loneliness because I am too busy working. When I mention that she and Peter have gone through life without having kids, she points out that they have but they also have each other. She says I need someone. A significant other.
There was a brief moment at New Year’s I felt a pang of emptiness watching my brothers bringing in the bells with their wives.
It reinforced that I do not have anyone to share intimate and special moments with, but I dismissed the notion. I have not thought about it again, not until today. I think about Lexi, the feelings I had after sharing time with her, and the addiction she has left me with.
I desire her like no other. My gut instinct tells me she would be someone to share special moments with.
A warmth heats my skin just thinking about her. If I were ever to share my bed … my house … my life and my heart with someone, then it would be with a woman like her. It would be with her.
I can imagine her walking barefoot around my home, standing in this very kitchen, sharing meals with me. I imagine being curled up on the sofa, having her legs wrapped around my waist in the pool, her small little body leaning against my chest in the bathtub.
Shit, I feel a hard, sudden stab in my heart leaving a pang of hollowness. Emptiness. There is a void in my life and I know just how to fill it.
Rose is right, just like my parents and grandparents … I need to settle down. Work is a good distraction, as is a quick mindless fuck now and then, but I will never feel complete or truly happy until I feel loved and can give love sharing my life with someone.
I grab a quick shower before the lads arrive for the Champions league football final. Throwing on jeans and a plain white T-shirt, I return to my bathroom to pick up my running clothes from today and hold my T-shirt up to my nose, inhaling a sweet, head-tripping scent, recalling luscious chocolate eyes close to mine, plump lips close to mine, and the most beautiful smile in the whole damn world.
Sweet flowers … traces of musky feminine perfume—the lingering kind. Fucking drug. I inhale it until I feel dizzy then catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Fucking pussy.
What am I? Sixteen
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