Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 82060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
I cleared my throat since it was clogged with all the words I needed to say about our son with his own ingress and egress on a level of a house his father didn’t occupy.
“You need some water to hydrate since you’re burnin’ up so much fluid tryin’ not to tell me I gotta keep a closer eye on our boy who’s a teenager and probably pretty much lives for getting in pretty girls’ panties?” he asked.
I retched.
Darius burst out laughing.
I froze, staring at him.
I didn’t think I’d seen him laugh like that in seventeen (nearly eighteen) years.
When his humor died (though, not entirely, his eyes were still sparkling with it), he said, “One good thing about bein’ in the business I used to be in, Malia, not much gets by me. You don’t survive long in that world with people doin’ shit you don’t want them to do around you. Kinda like how I knew you were sitting in your car, psyching yourself up to come to my door and ask me to have a look at where your son spends every other week.”
I was surprised.
“I…that’s not why I’m here,” I told him.
His head cocked slightly to the side. “Then why are you here?”
“I…” I brushed at my skirt again and lost track of my thoughts.
“Baby, you can swipe at it all you want, it’s not gonna grow longer,” Darius said in a sweet, sexy, teasing tone.
A sweet, teasing tone (the sexy was new, he was young back then, he hadn’t developed that part yet) was so very Darius, every cell in my body that loved him (and that was all of them too) heated up.
Okay, I was there to talk, not jump him.
Talk, not engage in wild sex on his incredibly attractive Berber carpet.
“Malia?” he called.
Shit.
I tackled him.
His arms went around me as he flew back and landed in one of the low, black leather chairs, me on top of him.
I straddled him, knees in the seat and grabbed his head.
“Sweetheart—” he tried.
“We’re gonna talk, just after you give me the business,” I said.
He grinned.
It was cute.
I still kissed him.
He took over the kiss as, miraculously, he got us both out of that chair. He walked with me wrapped around him, his arm around me, one hand at my behind, all the while kissing me.
Then I was going down, Darius on top, in a bed.
God, I’d missed his weight on me.
I’d just missed him.
Only then did he break our kiss to lift his head and offer, “Fast and hard, or slow and sweet?”
“Fast and hard, um…first,” I whispered.
His eyes darkened but he said, “Been awhile since I tasted your sweet pussy, baby.”
“Okay, fast and hard after…um, that.”
I got another grin, a different one this time, one I felt right where he’d be giving me some attention, hopefully soon, then he dropped his head and kissed me again.
He left the dress on when he eventually went down on me.
But he got rid of it (though, not the shoes) when he fucked me.
Fast and hard.
But still.
It was all kinds of sweet.
* * * *
“What did you come to talk about?”
It was after.
I was lying on top of him, naked (he’d finally taken off my shoes). He’d pulled the covers up over my booty. And he was running the tips of his fingers up and down my spine.
I was gooey and warm and sated and happy, and his bedroom was even better than his living room (he had plaid wallpaper behind the bed and gold lamps and a tan leather bench at the foot of the bed with a buttoned top, and best of all, super soft sheets, and obviously he took care of his twists, the pillowcases were silk).
“Everything,” I mumbled into his skin.
He had a smile in his voice when he asked, “Everything?”
I tipped my head back, stacking my hands on his chest, resting my chin on them and looking up at him.
My breath stopped.
His head and shoulders were propped up on some pillows and he was gazing down at me like I was the most beautiful girl in the world, and he was going to shelter me from every storm until the day I died.
“Everything,” I whispered.
He pulled me up his body and rolled me so he was on top.
“Our boy is gonna be home soon,” he reminded me. “And we haven’t cracked the surface of this everything you need to go over, and I don’t think either of us are ready for him to see us together, so why don’t you whittle that down to your top two priorities.”
“I never knew where you lived,” I admitted. “Lena had to tell me.”
“I didn’t let it be common knowledge.”
“I never asked. I never even thought about it. All I could think was that I wanted you to be with us.”