Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“Is it wrong to have an appetizer before a Thanksgiving dinner?” he asked between my legs.
I laughed. “I don’t know. Is it?”
He smiled up at me, pushing my T-shirt up and revealing my panties. I lifted my hips so he could take them off, and he buried his face between my thighs, groaning as he pushed one of them up to my chest.
I ran my fingers over the coarse waves of his hair, arching my back as I closed my eyes.
“I love how you taste, Davina,” he breathed. He slid his tongue into me, teasing before gliding it back up to the tenderest spot.
I was getting worked up, breathing harder, faster, and just when I felt like I was about to reach my peak, Deke took his mouth away and sat up to center himself between my thighs.
He shoved his boxers down and freed himself. The man was massive. I still had moments where I wondered how he could fit the whole thing inside me.
“Wanna make love to you,” he mumbled, placing his elbow outside my head. He pushed into me at a deliberate pace, watching my lips part and my eyes glaze over. His mouth came to mine, and he swallowed my moan, stroking while kissing me. With a groan, he tore his mouth away to look into my eyes.
“You love me?” he asked, voice raspy.
I nodded, clinging to him as he rocked into me. “Yes, I love you.”
“Good. ’Cause I love the hell out of you.”
He stole my lips again, thrusting faster. When he slammed into me and stilled, his dick felt twice as hard. It was the stillness of it, the feeling of him pulsing so hard and deep, that sent me over the edge. I threw my head back and clutched the sheets, crying out his name.
Seconds later, he hauled himself out and came too. When he met my eyes again, he huffed a laugh.
“Damn,” he sighed.
“What?” I asked.
“I’ll never get tired of making love to you. That’s all.” He hovered above me, kissing me once more and sighing behind the kiss before climbing off the bed. After he cleaned me up, he took my hand, helped me off the bed, and said, “Now let’s go make love in the shower too.”
When Deke pulled up to his mom’s house, he released a breath. The driveway was full of cars, which made me wonder if we were the last to show. If we were, I had no doubt it was intentional.
The house was gorgeous, a simple ranch home with a farmhouse flair. The exterior was white, the gabled roof black, and the porch large enough to fit four rocking chairs. A handful of trees were spread throughout the massive yard, the grass a neat, pedicured green.
Deke killed the engine of the rental car and sat a moment, staring ahead. I placed my hand on top of his, and he shifted his gaze to mine.
“You ready?” I asked.
He nodded and unclipped his seat belt. “Might as well get it over with.”
When he took my hand, we walked along the driveway and onto the porch so Deke could give the doorbell a ring. He shifted a bit, cleared his throat, then jostled the grocery bags with the sodas and juices in his other hand.
“It’ll be okay,” I assured him. “Whenever you’re ready to go, I’ll be ready too.”
He gave me a quick nod, then we heard rapid clip-clopping on the other side. When the door swung open, a woman with dark-brown hair and streaks of gray appeared. Her skin was a beautiful, deep brown with warm red undertones, her lips coated in ruby lipstick and her natural hair in big bouncy curls. Her eyes were a familiar brown, with hints of cognac in the sunlight, and they lit up when she spotted Deke.
It was Olivia Blake, Deke’s mother. Even if I hadn’t seen that picture of her on Facebook with Damon, I could’ve guessed she was his mom, because Deke was the spitting image of her.
“Declan, honey! Oh!” She wrangled him into her arms and hugged him tight around the neck. I released his hand so he could hug his mom back and smiled at their interaction.
That’s when I noticed the scar on her temple. It was slightly raised and about the length of a newborn’s pinkie. I instantly thought of Deke’s story and him mentioning how his dad had pushed her out of the way and caused her to hit her head on a portrait.
“Hey, Ma,” Deke murmured over her shoulder. I blinked, snapping myself out of it.
She leaned back a bit to look up at him, holding one side of his face. “My sweet boy. Look at you.”
He smiled down at her, then gestured my way. “Ma, this is my girlfriend, Davina. Davina, this is my mom, Olivia Blake.”