“You’re on the right track.”
“Mmm . . .” I gave in and took her mouth fully against mine. She had the most perfect lips: full, thick, and pink. They always molded perfectly to mine and that always reminded me that she was, undoubtedly, made for me. My lips parted hers and her tongue fluttered out, mingling with mine. I couldn’t help the groan that found its way out of me and loved the whimper she met it with. The sounds she made when we were connected were, without a doubt, the sexiest sounds I had ever heard. Hearing her moan sent more hot blood through my veins, concentrating in my dick. I pulled back and she let out a startled complaint. “We need to get in the shower now, or it will take us an hour to make it there.”
She pushed my shoulders down so I was lying flat on my back and crawled over me. She came to straddle my hips, her sex lining up perfectly with my erection, only two thin layers of cotton separated her heat from mine. Her hair came to rest around her shoulders, her blue eyes bright with arousal, and her hands splayed out around my ribs. I froze watching her, taking in her beauty, struck motionless by the love I felt for her.
Then, much to my pleasure, she ground her hips down on me. My eyes closed, my head fell back against the pillow, and I think I growled. Some animalistic sound came from me and she answered with a low moan. She alternated between rocking back and forth and moving her hips in tight little circles over my dick. It was the most wonderful form of torture. Suddenly, though, the wonderful, soft heat was gone and so was she.
I opened my eyes just in time to see her pulling her tee shirt over her head as she went into the bathroom, left only in her panties. She turned her gorgeous face over her shoulder and gave me the smile that would always and forever make my heart stop.
“Coming?” She asked sweetly.
Her eyes widened as I climbed out of the bed and stalked towards her. “Most definitely. And so are you.”
We eventually made it to my mom’s restaurant. When we entered, it was easy to find my mother. Her laugh was like a beacon and could be heard from anywhere in the building. Infectious, loud, and contagious, she laughed like she lived—without reservation.
She spotted us and I could see her whole face light up with happiness and love. It was nearly impossible not to mirror her expression. My mother was truly a wonderful woman and until I met Ella, I didn’t think there would ever be another woman who mattered to me on the level she did. I could feel my stomach tightening with nerves, excitement bubbling over with the idea of telling her that, finally, she was going to be a grandmother.
She politely finished up the conversation she was having with the two older men at their usual table, always coming in to flirt with my mother, and walked towards us. She went to Ella, wrapping her in a tight hug. I was almost jealous that my mother didn’t hug me first, but knew that no one could resist Ella. Also, it warmed my heart witnessing how much my mother loved her. She pulled away and then moved to give me a hug as well. I bent down and wrapped my arms around her waist.
My mother always smelled the same. It was a combination of baby powder and her favorite perfume, Chanel Number Five. She got her very first bottle from my father when they had started dating and every year on their anniversary he gave her another bottle. Eventually she had enough to last her a while, but he still bought her a new bottle every year. After he passed away, on their first anniversary she had to spend alone, I wrapped up one of her older bottles that hadn’t been used yet and gave it to her.
At first, when my mother broke into sobs, I thought I made a terrible mistake. I only wanted her not to feel sad, I wanted to give her what my dad couldn’t be there to give. I apologized and tried to explain how sorry I was, that I hadn’t wanted to upset her. She quieted me, telling me it was all right. She hugged me and I held her while her cries slowed.
“It’s ok,” she said to me, still working through a few tears. “I’m just so happy.”
“Happy?” I asked, confused as to how she could be happy without my father.
“I’m so happy that even though I lost your father, I still have the best part of him in you.”
After that, every year I wrapped up the same bottle and gave it to her. Until, of course, I grew up and got a job and could afford to buy her a new one. It was still a tradition I cherished and I think she did too.
I pushed aside the memory and pulled back from my mother.
“I didn’t know you two were in town today. Would you like some breakfast?” She looked at the watch on her wrist. “Or lunch?”
My eyes flickered over to Ella and I enjoyed the flush that played over her face, knowing she was thinking about why we hadn’t made it for breakfast.