Hung
Page 36
"Well, you know," I stammer, "I don't want Tommy to see anything X-rated, you know?"
Katie lets out a peal of delicate, tinkling laughter and closes the couple of paces between us, running her tiny, soft hand across my cock, so it really does stiffen this time. "Tommy? I know you love him, Mike, but he's a year old – he has no idea what's going on…"
"He's a bright kid…" I say, immediately rising to the defense of my son, but judging by the amused look on Katie's face, she was expecting me to say exactly that.
"You're so predictable, Mike."
She turns and pushes Tommy's bedroom door open, and we creep in silently. Every time I cross the threshold of this room, it feels like I'm entering some inner sanctum. Tommy's not just my son, but a living reminder of the best friend – other than Katie – I've ever had. A memorial. I was so delighted when Katie agreed to name him after my dead friend that, I'm not ashamed to admit, I shed a tear. As we walk towards him, I remember the look she gave me, remember her response, how she simply couldn't understand why I was surprised – "Of course we can call him Tommy. I wouldn't have it any other way…"
This girl’s a real catch.
"How's he doing?" I ask reverently as Katie gently picks him up out of his cot. "How's his forehead?"
She picks up my hand and stretches it gently, bringing it down on our son's face. I relax, some inner tension falling away from me now that I know his fever's broken. "Thank God," I say, looking at my beautiful, red-faced son, "I was getting worried…"
"Mike, you're so protective – it's just a cold!" Katie laughs quietly, apparently deciding against waking him up, in favor of allowing him to continue sleeping.
I pick Tommy up out of Katie's hands and cradle him against my broad chest, feeling his soft warm skin against mine. He's so tiny, so weak, so feeble that sometimes I stay up all night worrying about him. But that's my job; I'm here to keep him safe.
"I know, I know," I say, lowering him back to his cot, "but he's my only son…"
We tiptoe out of the room, moving like special forces soldiers on a stealth mission so as not to wake up our son. As soon as the door's closed, Katie looks at me with a wicked glint behind her eyes, and devilishly strokes her hand across me once more, remorselessly springing me back to life.
"I think it's about time, Mr. Carson, that we do something about that…"
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