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Preview – His Imperfect Day

A short look at His Imperfect Day - La Petite Mort Club Intimate Encounters (Terry and Maggie)


CHAPTER 1: Terry

Terry winced, opening his eyes. Davy’s foot pressed on his cheek and mouth. The boy’s leg twitched again, almost busting open his lip. He grabbed the kid’s foot and moved it away from him.


Davy’s heel landed on his neck.

“Fu…udge,” he gasped. For a toddler that kid had some leg muscles. They should get him into soccer. He’d be a fucking superstar. Terry shifted to get out of bed but a small hand clung to his shirt. Peter, Maggie’s six-year-old, was sprawled partially across his chest.

He was going to kill Nick. What kind of moronic ass-hole plays zombie tag with little kids? His idiot friend that’s who. He sure as fuck regretted sharing his secret of how to continue to have great sex after having kids with Nick. He should’ve let the bastard suffer, once Nick had children, with nothing but quick fumbles in the dark. He would’ve if he’d known he’d end up with all three kids in their bed the first night of vacation.

“Ouch.” He pushed Davy’s foot away from his temple. The kid was trying to kill him.

Maggie stirred in her sleep but snuggled closer to Isabella, her eight-year-old daughter, and fell silent.

He had to get out of there before he was seriously injured and couldn’t get everything ready. He had the entire day planned. He’d told Maggie how he felt about her their last night at La Petite Mort Club but throwing I love you out there during a fight was not how he’d wanted to tell her. He gently rolled Peter off his chest. Today, he’d confess his love the right way. He’d organized everything, leaving nothing to chance. It’d be perfect.

CHAPTER 2:  Terry

 Terry snuck out of the bedroom and went straight to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and began pulling out the food he’d ordered for their picnic. Last night when they’d arrived at their bungalow, he’d had to juggle a lot of things and keeping Maggie from the kitchen had been the hardest. She was a natural Sub and she wanted to take care of everyone around her. He loved that about her. His heart did a quick flip-flop and his stomach clenched but it wasn’t near as bad as it had been. He was growing used to the idea of loving someone again. Maybe in a few years he’d stop getting nauseous when that word crept into his head.

He opened a cabinet, nothing but dishes. He opened another and another until finally he found the bread. It’d come directly from the local bakery. He unwrapped it from the brown paper and inhaled. It was a day old but still smelled wonderful. The crust was flaky and the bread soft. It’d make excellent sandwiches. He dropped it on the counter and rummaged through the drawers for a knife.

“I’m hungry.”

He jumped. “Izzy, you’re as quiet as a damn cat.”

“I scared you.” She giggled. She was adorable—long brown hair, curly like her mother’s but with brown eyes like her asshole of a father.

“No, you did not.” He sounded firm but he winked at her.

“What-cha doing?” She climbed on one of the chairs by the kitchen island.

“I have a surprise.” He leaned close to her and lowered his voice. “I’m making a picnic lunch because we’re going to the beach.”

“Dad takes us to the pool when we go with him.”

“Well, I’m taking you to the beach.” Probably because there wasn’t a beach at any of the cheap-ass places their father took them, but he wouldn’t say anything negative about the dickhead around the kids. He’d hated it when his ex’s partners had bombarded his kids with shit about him. “What kind of sandwich do you want for lunch?” He waved his hand over the array of luncheon meats.

“Peanut butter and jelly but I want to go to the pool.”

“And we will.” He pulled a knife from the drawer and sliced the bread. “Do you want some toast?” He dropped two pieces in the toaster.

“No. I want to go to the pool.”

“After the beach.”

“I want to swim now.”

“You can swim in the ocean.” He began slathering peanut butter and jelly on some of the bread.

“Yuck. Fish pee in the ocean.”

“Who told you that?” The toaster buzzed and he grabbed the bread buttering it.

She shrugged. “I don’t know but it’s true.”

“Yes, it is but there’s enough water in the ocean so it’s fine.” He held out a slice of toast, but she wrinkled her nose. “More for me.” He took a bite. It was as good as it’d smelled.

“It’s not fine with me.”

“Okay.” He put the sandwiches in baggies and started slicing the gourmet cheese. “You don’t have to swim. You can play in the sand.”

“I want to swim.”

He gritted his teeth. “You should be a lawyer when you grow up.” He handed her the butter knife filled with jelly. “You are relentless.” He finished his toast.

“I want peanut butter too.” She licked the jelly off the knife.

“You’re having peanut butter and jelly for lunch. You sure you want it for breakfast?” He turned and opened the cabinet. “We have oatmeal and cereal.”

“Peanut butter and jelly.” She grabbed the jar of peanut butter.

He just managed to snag it from her before she stuck the knife in it. “No double dipping.” He tapped her nose, making her giggle. He grabbed a slice of the bread and covered it with peanut butter and jelly before handing it to her. “Milk?” He headed toward the fridge.

“I don’t like milk.”

“Since when?” He swore these kids changed their minds just to annoy the shit out of him.

“Don’t know but I want orange juice.”

“With peanut butter and jelly?” He cringed. The kid had the stomach of a vulture if she could eat that concoction.

“Mmm-hmm.” She nodded, her mouth full of sandwich.

“Okay.” He poured her some OJ and began making the adult sandwiches, the good kind, filled with turkey, roast beef, gourmet cheeses and artisan spreads. He made several sandwiches each with a different assortment of items—all foods that Maggie loved.

“That stinks.” Izzy poked one of the soft cheeses.

“Well, you don’t have to eat it.” He snatched it from her and tossed it in the bag with the other cheese. He started to put it back in the fridge. He’d planned on cheese, crackers and wine for the adults later tonight, but Maggie loved cheese and crackers.

“Good because I’d puke.” She faked gagged.

“Then we’re all in luck.” He glanced as her as he added a pack of crackers to the bag with the cheese. “Finish your breakfast.” He dropped the bag by the sandwiches.

“That’s what I’m doing.”

“Good.” He had better things to do than argue with an eight-year-old.

He opened the cooler and added bottled water and juice before covering them with ice. He then arranged the food on the tray that fit snug above the ice, keeping it cool but not allowing it to get wet. He put some grapes in a different bag and tossed them next to the sandwiches. All that was left was dessert. He smirked. It wouldn’t be as good as last night. Nothing would ever be as good as eating cherries off Maggie’s naked body and making her come—over and over—but chocolate would have to do for today.

“What you are looking for?’

“A snack for our picnic.”

“Picnic? I thought we were going to the stupid beach.”

He glanced at her. Why did he like kids again? “We are and we’re going to have lunch there. Hence a picnic.”

“But I want to swim.”

“And you will. After lunch.” He checked the refrigerator. Where was that damn candy? It had to be around her somewhere. The concierge service had gotten everything else right.

“But that’s forever from now.”

“It’s not that long and you’ll have fun at the beach.” He’d check the cabinets again and call if he couldn’t find it.

“No, I won’t. I hate the beach.”

“Have you ever been to the beach?”

“No, but I still hate it.”

“Go get your swimsuit on and brush your hair and teeth.”

“I’m not swimming in fish pee.”

He snorted back a laugh. “Okay but I bet you’ll change your mind.” He grabbed a jar from the counter and opened it. Yes, here was the chocolate.

“I won’t.” She hopped off the chair and headed for the bedroom where the kids had been supposed to sleep last night. She stopped in the doorway. “How much?”

“What?” He tossed her a piece of candy before pouring half of it in a baggie and dropping it into the cooler.

“How much do you want to bet?”

He glanced at the bedroom door where Maggie and the boys still slept. He closed the cooler and walked over to Izzy, lowering his voice. “A freebie. If you swim in the ocean—”

“I won’t because I’m never swimming in fish pee.”

He smirked. Stubborn little cuss but she was going to learn that he was always right, especially where females were concerned. “If you do, then you owe me a free babysitting session.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “If I win”—she raised her dark little brow—“and I will because I’m never swimming in pee, then you pay me and I don’t have to watch them the next two times.”

“Two?” Maybe she should go into trade instead of being a lawyer. “No. Unless you babysit twice for free if you lose.”

“No.” She shook her head. “No way.”

It was time she learned that sometimes pushing too hard made deals disappear. “Then, no bet.”

“Bet?” Maggie wandered out of the bedroom, Davy in her arms. “What are you two betting on?”

CHAPTER 3:  Terry

Izzy’s eyes widened and Terry’s heart about burst through his chest. Maggie didn’t know that he paid her daughter to keep the boys quiet while they had alone time. He didn’t want her to ever find out but especially not now. She’d get mad and it’d ruin the perfect day he had planned.


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