With This Man, Page 2

  I find myself shifting to adjust my growing hard-on behind the fly of my leathers. Her restrained grin tells me she knows of the activity she’s spiked down there, and for a moment I consider once again how my wife must feel to know that she still, twelve years after we met, has this profound effect on me. I can’t get enough of her.

  She sashays slowly down the steps, watching me closely until she gets to the rear of her car. Then she reaches in, accentuating the swell of her curvy arse, and pulls out a Tesco bag. ‘Put the bag down,’ I tell her.

  ‘Stop being so demanding.’ She feigns a sigh and swivels on her heels, swaying her arse as she saunters up the steps with the shopping bag hanging from her fingers. ‘I have your children to feed.’

  ‘And I have needs, lady,’ I call, dumping my helmet on the seat of my bike and going in pursuit of her. ‘Ava!’

  I hear her laugh as she disappears through the doorway, and when I land in the kitchen, I find her standing with the bag at her feet. I pull to a stop and watch as she bends down slowly, seductively, and pulls some items from the bag. I grin when she waggles a cheeky eyebrow at me and flashes two jars of peanut butter. ‘I might let you lick it off me.’

  ‘Might let me?’ I laugh, amused by her coyness. ‘Ava, you’ve been married to me for over a decade. Haven’t you learned yet?’

  ‘I have the power,’ she whispers, sliding the jars onto the worktop and pouting her full lips.

  I find myself doubling over to stop my cock from breaking free of my leathers. ‘Ava, unless now is a good time to bend you over the worktop and fuck you blind, don’t be teasing me.’ Jesus, I’ve had to control where I can take her since the twins were born. My willpower is wearing thin. Maybe it’s my age. I shake that thought quickly away before it has a chance to ruin my mood.

  ‘You need to talk to Maddie.’ Ava’s statement comes from nowhere.

  I scoff. Nope. No way, because I know exactly what my eleven-year-old daughter wants to talk about. ‘I’m not going over it again, Ava. End of.’

  ‘You need to learn how to deal with her before she divorces us.’

  ‘I know how to deal with her.’ I cough indignantly.

  ‘Locking her in her room isn’t dealing with her.’

  I scowl. ‘Don’t exaggerate.’

  Ava laughs. It’s condescending. She better wind her neck in or she’ll be heading for a Retribution Fuck. ‘You threatened it just the other day.’

  I can’t believe that I have to explain myself for the hundredth time. ‘Ava, she had on a pair of denim shorts that would have fitted a Barbie doll. And she plans on going to the school party in them?’ I laugh at the thought. ‘It isn’t happening. Not while I’m alive.’

  My wife rolls her eyes. ‘They weren’t that bad.’

  ‘She’s eleven!’

  ‘She’s becoming a young lady.’

  ‘She’s becoming a pain in my fucking arse, that’s what she’s becoming.’ Or a bigger one.

  ‘You’re being way over the top, Jesse.’

  Over the top? I don’t think I am at all. ‘Ava, last week when I picked her up, some dirty little pervert was practically drooling over her as she walked from the school gates to my car.’ I feel the blood begin to boil in my veins, just recalling the incident. Had a fucking traffic warden not moved me from the restricted parking zone, I would have been out of my car and across the street faster than a roadrunner.

  She smirks at me. ‘A dirty little pervert?’

  ‘Yes. He’s lucky I didn’t shove his head down his trousers so he couldn’t ogle my daughter.’

  ‘And how old was this dirty little pervert?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I brush her question aside, knowing exactly where we’re heading here.

  ‘I do.’ Ava laughs again, half-amused, half-exasperated. ‘He’s eleven, Jesse. Just like Maddie. His name is Kyle and he’s in Maddie’s class. He has a crush, that’s all.’

  I snort and head for the fridge. ‘He’s a pervert,’ I state with utter finality, daring her to continue the discussion as I rummage through the top shelf looking for my peanut butter. But I should know my defiant little temptress by now. And she dares to continue.

  ‘Jacob has a crush on a girl,’ Ava says casually. I turn away from the fridge, seeing her collecting the jars of peanut butter off the counter and moving over to the cupboard. My boy has a crush? The only crush he has that I know of is a crush on football. The kid’s mad for it. ‘Does that make your boy a pervert?’

  My lips twist as I return to the fridge and continue searching for my comfort food. ‘Why are you doing this?’

  ‘Because our children are growing up and you need to let them do that. Maddie’s going to the school party, and you are not chaperoning her. It isn’t cool to take your dad.’

  ‘She isn’t damn well going without me,’ I snap, slamming the fridge door. ‘Where’s my fucking Sun-Pat?’ I swing around and find my wife holding out a new jar, her eyebrows high and knowing.

  I swipe it from her grasp without so much as a thank you and whip off the lid. My finger goes in, sweeps around the edge, and I plunge the big dollop into my mouth, still scowling at my wife, who is now shaking her head in dismay. She can shake her head all she likes. My daughter isn’t going to the school party without me, and she definitely isn’t going in those denim shorts.

  ‘Where is Maddie, anyway?’ I ask Ava’s back, not missing the opportunity to relish in the sight of her arse. That arse. I want to bite it.

  ‘She’s waiting for her daddy to get home so she can butter him up.’

  ‘Butter me up how?’

  ‘Daddy!’ Maddie’s squeal of delight – a totally fake squeal, it should be noted – stops my questioning in its tracks. Oh no. She called me Daddy. Not Dad. I just know the puppy-dog eyes are coming.

  I do the wisest thing I can. I put down my peanut butter and edge out of the kitchen without making eye contact. I’ll be fucked. Screwed.

  ‘I need to get changed.’ I bomb out of the door, hearing Maddie in pursuit.

  ‘Daddy, wait!’

  ‘I have things to do,’ I call behind me as I race up the stairs, catching a glimpse of her long chocolate hair bouncing over her shoulders as she chases after me. ‘Speak to Mum.’

  ‘Mum said I needed to speak to you!’

  I just make it to the top when I feel something around my ankle. ‘Fuck!’ I lose my footing and trip up the top step, crashing down to the carpet in a heap.

  ‘Daddy, watch your mouth!’

  ‘Maddie, for crying out loud!’

  ‘Then don’t run away from me, and face up to your responsibilities.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ I roll over to my back and sit up, finding my girl lying across the final few steps of the staircase, her small hand still wrapped around my ankle, her head tilted far back to look up at me. She’s already fluttering her lashes, the little minx. ‘My responsibilities?’

  ‘Yes.’ She releases my foot and pushes herself to her feet, and I only mildly register that she has on jeans and a jumper. Long jeans and a long-sleeved jumper. This should please me, yet it doesn’t. Because this is my little live wire of a daughter, and she’s a little fucker when she wants to be. Like, all the time. And like now, when I know she’s only covered from top to toe because, in the words of her mother, she’s trying to butter me up. It won’t work.

  Maddie sighs, shaking her head at me. ‘Dad—’

  ‘Oh, so it’s Dad now, is it?’

  Her jaw tightens, and she looks at me in a way that only her mother can rival. Like she could cut off my dick with her glare. ‘It’s not fair! All my friends are going, and their parents are okay with it. Why do you have to be the one to ruin all the fun?’

  ‘Because I love you,’ I mutter, getting to my feet. ‘Because I know there are some idiot boys out there who will want to kiss you.’ W
hat the fuck am I saying? The fact that my girl would probably rip off the balls of any potential kisser, probably better than even I could, is beside the point. It’s my job to protect her.

  ‘And stalk me,’ she retorts, making me recoil.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I don’t like the smug look on her face. The look that suggests she has dirt on me. I narrow my eyes on her, waiting for it.

  ‘Like you stalked Mum.’

  I gasp. ‘I didn’t stalk your mother. I pursued her.’

  ‘She said it’s the same thing, especially when the perusing is done at Jesse Ward’s level of pursuing.’

  ‘It’s . . . no . . . she . . .’ I huff and turn, marching to the master suite. I’m not arguing with an eleven-year-old. ‘Your mother loved me stalking her,’ I snap over my shoulder.

  ‘You said you pursued her.’

  ‘Same thing.’ I slam the door to our dressing room behind me and yank my T-shirt over my head. ‘The girl will be the death of me,’ I mumble, chucking it in the wash basket.

  Maddie barges in, forcing my hands to pause on the fly of my leathers. ‘I’m going to the disco without you, and I will wear what I like.’

  ‘You are not going.’ I just manage to hold back my bad language. ‘End of.’

  ‘You’re so mean!’ she yells, her cheeks flushed with anger.

  ‘I know!’ I shove my hands into the waistband of my leathers, ready to push them down. ‘Are you scramming? Because I’m about to get naked.’

  Her pretty little face screws up in utter disgust. ‘Ewwww.’ She makes a hasty exit, leaving me looking down at my torso. Ewwww? The fucking cheek. I might be fifty soon, but I’m still fucking prime. Ask my wife. And every other woman on the planet. Ewwww?

  I kick off my leathers and drop to the floor, smashing out fifty press-ups, muttering and cursing as I do. I should have stayed at the health club.

  After yanking on some clean shorts, I turn to head downstairs, noticing a pile of clean laundry on the bed. I do what any decent husband would do: I gather it up and go back to the dressing room to put it away. I place my socks and boxers in the designated drawers, leaving me with a pile of Ava’s knickers in my palm. I grin at the stacks of lace, unable to stop myself from bringing them to my nose and inhaling the clean smell of laundry mixed with Ava’s lingering scent. I hum and close my eyes, planning tonight’s intimate time. I see a Sense Fuck in the not too distant future. I’ll make my wife see that it would be most unwise for us to let Maddie go to the school party without a chaperone.

  ‘Dad?’

  I swing around and find Jacob hovering at the doorway. His handsome face is quite alarmed. ‘Oh, hey.’ I quickly pull the lace away from my nose and smile awkwardly.

  ‘Are you smelling Mum’s knickers?’

  I laugh like a twat, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. My kids do fuck all for my ego. ‘Just checking they’ve been washed,’ I say, turning my back on him and opening Ava’s knicker drawer.

  ‘You’re weird sometimes, Dad.’ Jacob sighs from behind me, and I cringe, but my cringe turns into a frown when I spot something in the corner of Ava’s drawer. It’s not the something that’s the problem. It’s the fact that it’s in a different corner from this morning. I snarl at the diamond-embellished vibrator, or the Weapon of Mass Destruction, as my wife likes to call it, and slowly push the drawer closed. She isn’t wrong. It does destroy. It destroys my fucking ego. Has she been using it without me? Giving her pleasure to a fucking machine?

  Casting my grievance aside, just for now, I turn towards my boy. ‘What’s up, mate?’ I ask, wandering over to him and throwing my arm around his shoulders, walking us out of the dressing room.

  ‘One of my friends from school, Sonny, has invited me to Old Trafford with his parents to watch United. They’re playing Arsenal. Can I go?’

  I smile to myself, looking down at Jacob as he looks up at me, all hopeful and with a little worry. I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking that football is our thing, and I might not like him doing it with someone else. I take him training, I watch every match, I make a point during the football season of a monthly boys’ day out, just me and him. All boys’ stuff, where there are no women driving us nuts. ‘Sure you can.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  I lean down and sink my face into his mop of dirty-blond hair. My boy. My beautiful, laid-back boy. ‘Hey,’ I say, releasing him from my clinch when something comes to me. ‘Mum mentioned something about a crush.’ I raise my eyebrows in question.

  Jacob rolls his eyes and makes his way to his bedroom. ‘I don’t have a crush, and if I did, I wouldn’t tell Mum.’

  I grin. ‘Playing it cool, eh?’ That’s my boy.

  ‘What, like you did with Mum?’ He turns and catches me scowling. And another head shake. ‘I’m going to polish my trophies.’ He disappears into his bedroom, leaving me on the landing.

  I zoom back to the dressing room, grab her vibrator, and head back out. A quick check of Maddie’s room tells me she’s sulking on her bed and will be lost in her mood for a good hour. A quick check of Jacob’s room tells me he’s already lined up his football trophies and will be lost in polishing those for at least two hours.

  I hurry downstairs, brandishing Ava’s vibrator like a sword in front of me. ‘How many times do we need to go over this?’ I ask, entering the kitchen. ‘All of your pleasure comes from me.’

  I come to a screaming halt when I find that my wife isn’t alone. Oh shit.

  ‘Elizabeth!’ I yelp, my hand frozen in mid-air.

  ‘Oh . . . my . . . God,’ she breathes, looking at Ava in question. My wife’s face is a picture of horror.

  ‘Oh . . .’ The vibrator glows at me, and I rush to hide it behind my back. ‘Always nice to see you, Mum.’

  Elizabeth sighs, turning to her daughter and kissing her cheek. ‘I’ll call before I drop by next time, darling.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Ava mutters, her horrified face turning into an expression that suggests I’m in for it. My idiotic smile widens.

  ‘I’ll be on my way. Your father needs picking up from the golf course.’

  I wave at Ava’s mother with my empty hand as she approaches me, shaking her head. ‘You’re not staying?’ I ask out of politeness. After twelve years, we still have a love/hate thing going on.

  ‘Don’t pretend you want me to.’

  The vibrator behind my back feels like it’s pulsing in my grasp, reminding me that I still have unfinished business to clear up with my wife. But then the device is suddenly snatched from my hand.

  ‘What’s this?’ Maddie asks, holding up the huge dildo. Every muscle I have fails me, and I hear Ava and her mother gasp. My frozen state means Maddie has a chance to investigate her find, flicking at the buttons on the shaft. The vibrator jumps to life in her hand, and she screams, dropping it to the floor, where it proceeds to dance around our feet.

  ‘What is that?’ she cries.

  ‘That’s a weapon of mass destruction!’ I blurt mindlessly, kicking it away.

  ‘What’s a weapon of mass destruction?’

  ‘A bomb!’ I grab Maddie and throw her over my shoulder, pelting out of the kitchen at top speed.

  ‘Quick, Dad! Before it explodes!’

  Fuck me, how do I get into these situations? I race up the stairs and burst into Maddie’s room, throwing her on the bed in my usual fashion, and then watch as she giggles like girls do, brushing her hair from her face. Big, round, gorgeously dark eyes find me, and her giggles turn into hysterics as she rolls around on the bed clenching her tummy.

  I drop down in an exhausted heap of dad next to her and pull her into my chest. ‘Come here, little lady,’ I sigh, taking the rare opportunity to grab a cuddle with my girl. She settles and lets me fuss over her for a few short minutes, still giggling every now and then. When she’s gathered her breath, she breaks
free from my hug and sits up, crossing her legs and looking at me for a few thoughtful moments.

  ‘Daddy, please let me go to the disco.’ She holds up praying hands in front of her face and juts out her bottom lip in an adorable pout. Doomed. Fucking doomed. ‘I’ll let you approve my outfit.’

  I hitch an eyebrow, a little surprised by her willingness to negotiate. Pushing myself up onto my elbows, I ponder her suggestion for a few moments. She’s being reasonable. I should try to follow her lead, no matter how much it pains me. I sigh and roll my eyes. That face always breaks down my determination. ‘I’m taking you there and picking you up. Ten o’clock at the very latest.’

  She squeals in delight and dives at me, tackling me back down to her bed. ‘Thank you, Daddy.’

  ‘You can ease off on the Daddy business now,’ I say, snatching another opportunity to have a hug. ‘And you must answer your phone when I call you or I’ll be coming into the school to track you down.’

  ‘Can’t you just text me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Okay.’ She relents easily, understanding that she’s reached her limit.

  ‘And remember,’ I go on, keen to reinforce the rules, ‘it’s illegal to kiss a boy until you’re twenty-one.’

  She chuckles. ‘It’s not illegal to kiss a boy, Dad.’

  ‘It really is.’

  ‘By real law or Dad’s law?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘You’re impossible.’

  ‘Maddie, do you want to go to the disco or not?’

  Her jaw tightens, and she draws in a long breath. ‘It is illegal to kiss boys before you’re twenty-one,’ she says flatly, and I cock my head in a prompt for more. ‘By real law,’ she adds.

  ‘Good girl.’ I kiss her forehead and get on my way, satisfied by a job well done. See? I can be reasonable. I don’t know why everyone constantly barks on about my unwillingness to flex. I flex every day of my damn life.

  Jacob emerges from his room, a tennis racket in his hand. ‘Where’s Maddie?’ he asks.

  She appears with her own racket, now changed into some ridiculously tiny sports shorts and a cropped T-shirt. They shoot off down the stairs. ‘We’ll be on the court!’