The Deep End ✔️

27 - pillowtalk

"I need to talk to you about something."

That was what Dallas said approximately four minutes after sex. It was the end of our little weekend vacation and I would need to be going home soon to relieve Mrs. Cline of feeding Nelly Furtado for the last two days.

I swiped a hand over my forehead, sweat and . . . other things having been collected there in our activities. Dallas offered me a wet wipe—he keeps them in his nightstand drawer like a freak—and worked on getting his briefs back up his legs. I stared at his ass while he did so, fighting and losing to the smile that worked it's way onto my face. That was all mine.

For now, the evil little voice in the back of my head snapped.

"You're dumping me already?" I asked, shooting him a playful, feigned hurt expression.

"Never," he said seriously.

I bit down on my bottom lip, loving the way he said that—loving him. "Then what?"

Dallas sat down on the bed and took the wet wipe from me, using it to catch the stray globs of cum that he so graciously ejected onto my face moments ago. I closed my eyes and allowed him to pamper me, getting a bit nervous at the way he was putting the question off.

Once he was finished, he combed his fingers through my hair and stilled his hands on either side of my head, pulling me towards him to kiss my hairline. "Well, it's more of a question for you. Uh . . . no pressure, but—" Dallas's eyes scanned my face, full of hope and what almost seemed like fear. "Would you like to meet my dad? I know you . . . you said no at Christmas, but that was my fault for even asking. It's totally up to you, but . . . y'know. If we're getting serious, it's important to me that you meet him."

I would have let him keep going if he didn't stop, feeling equal parts fondness and amusement for his rambling. He waited for my response with those same eyes full of that fear of rejection, I realized.

"Of course," I said softly. "I'd love to meet him."

He practically deflated in relief. "Really?"

I smiled, grabbing his wrists where they were still holding my head. I felt guilty for making him so nervous to ask me something so minute. Even though meeting his dad was going to be pretty unconventional as far as meeting the parents goes—seeing as he was in prison, and all—I was excited. Dallas spoke of his father very fondly and if he was anything like he said, then I was looking forward to meeting him.

"Yeah, really," I teased, pushing forward to catch him in a kiss. He held me to him tightly and I could feel his heart pounding in his chest. "Do you think he'll like me?"

Dallas chuckled. "He already does."

I felt like a slushy, gooey mess. His love was like the first warm day after a long winter. It truly felt like the sun was shining onto my skin when he smiled at me. When he held me, there was hope for a new dawn, a new season. Every day was a new season with Dallas.

"When can I meet him?" I asked.

"Well, when's your next day off?"

I scrunched my face. "I, uh, have to work eight days straight since I asked for this weekend off," I said and he frowned. "But maybe next week?"

"Sounds like a plan," Dallas said, pulling me down to lay with him. "I don't want you to leave. I love waking up next to you."

My cheeks flushed while I settled with my cheek pressed to his bicep. He stared at me with sleepy eyes and I wished I could stay right there for the rest of my life. "Nelly Furtado needs me," I said after getting caught up in his pouting face. "You should come to mine on Friday when you get off work and stay with me for the weekend."