Page 94 of Making It Up

I use the handlebars behind me to lift my body, and he growls in approval.

“Good girl.”

He rewards me by sliding two thick fingers into my pussy.

We’ve never fucked outside of the sex club and the fact that we are not role-playing tonight makes all of this even hotter.

I had wondered about sex on a four-wheeler, and it turns out that it is just as hot—and possible—as I’d hoped.

The back kitchen door slams, and I jump and look up quickly. Between my headphones and being lost in my writing, I’m mostly oblivious to the sounds around me, including my mother banging pots and pans as she cooks and humming along to whatever music is playing in her head.

But my dad just slammed the door hard enough that I could hear it through my headphones.

I watch as he crosses the kitchen to my mom and pulls her into his arms. She grins up at him and says something I can’t hear. He nods, then lowers his mouth, kissing her.

My parents are extremely affectionate people, still clearly madly in love after all of these years, and they never try to hide or curtail the PDA even when their kids are around.

My dad’s hands drop to my mom’s ass and I can see her say something against his mouth.

He chuckles, then pulls back, looking down at her the way every woman should want and expect the man she spends her life with to look at her.

Then my dad grasps my mom’s waist and hoists her up onto the counter, stepping between her knees. She laughs, and then he’s in front of her, his back to me, blocking my view of her and what exactly they’re doing.

Yes, they are clearly in love, and I don’t expect them to hide their affection, but I’ve seen part of this show before. I need to stop it before it goes too far.

I pull my headphones off and say, “Daughter in the room.”

Without missing a beat or even looking over at me, my dad says, “You could fix that.”

I laugh. “You two are so gross,” I tease.

I absolutely do not mean that. My parents’ love, affection, and yes, even their passion, have been a great source of comfort for me throughout the years I’ve lived with them.

Do I want to see my parents making out? Not especially. However, the fact that they are so open and honest about their feelings has always made me feel incredibly secure. They don’t hide how they feel about anything—each other, their work, this town, the causes that matter to them, and yes, me. Their ability to love out loud has always extended to me, and so when they get a little frisky in the kitchen, it honestly just makes me smile.

“Well, at least don’t make her burn dinner. It’s one of my favorites,” I say, making absolutely no move to give them any privacy.

“What are we having?” he asks.

“Parmesan spinach pasta,” Mom answers.

Dad quickly steps back, holding up his hands. “I definitely don’t want you to burn that.”

Mom laughs and slides off the counter. “Okay, but rain check on what we just had going here.”

He shoots her a grin, then slaps her on the ass. “You know it.”

I look down at the screen on my computer. Is it any wonder I feel totally comfortable sitting at the kitchen table writing a sex scene while my mother is in the room cooking dinner?

Dad smiles at me. “I’m glad you’re here tonight. I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while.”

I do close my laptop, though, as he crosses to the table to join me. My dad doesn’t need to read this.

“Yeah, I’ve been kind of busy. Had some stuff going on the last few evenings.” I almost grimace. I’m not lying to him. And there are no laws that require me to tell my father everything I do, every minute of the day. However, I’m purposefully not giving him details, and I hope he doesn’t ask, because it involves David.

I really want my dad and my boyfriend to get along. To even like each other. No, even more than that. I want them to respect each other, admire one another, and even develop a level of affection for each other. My family is very close, and we’ve been through a lot. I never want our closeness or how easy and comfortable we are together to change.

“What have you been up to?” He drops into the kitchen chair perpendicular to mine.