“Rayna,” I whispered, voice rough, hips jerking up into my grip.
I thought about the way she moaned when I bit her neck. The way her thighs trembled when I pinned her and fucked her harder, deeper, until she lost rhythm and just gave in. My hand sped, veins flexing under my skin, every stroke chasing the memory of her pussy pulling me back in.
Heat climbed fast, chest tight, jaw locked. I pumped harder, faster, groaning into the dark like she was here,whispering my name. I came hard, spilling hot across my stomach, muscles clenching until I shook.
Breath ragged, hand slick, I lay there wrecked. Not satisfied. Never that. Because jerking off wasn’t her. It wasn’t her lips, swollen from kissing. Wasn’t her pussy milking me until I lost count.
It was just a man trying to keep from dialing her number at midnight and begging her to come back.
And even fucked-out from my own hand, I knew the truth… I wanted her again. Not just her body. Her. All of her.
Chapter 6
Current
Work didn’t wait for a woman stuck on a man’s voice or his dick.
Whitaker Electric, Daddy’s business and my paycheck, had the bid for this new boutique hotel on Penn—where a laundromat and three row houses used to sit. East Liberty, scrubbed and flipped. Money for the ones moving in, eviction for the ones moved out. I smelled it in the sawdust and drywall, in the sweat and steel beams—progress dressed in loss.
Istrapped my vest tight, climbed the third-floor stairs, gloves snug, cutters in hand. Jerome hummed through his teeth like always, Big Mike cursed at a spool that wouldn’t behave, apprentices lugged conduit up like mules. We moved like gears in Daddy’s machine—each splice and pull carrying his name. Clean work meant the next contract. Sloppy meant Whitaker got dragged.
Normally, that rhythm steadied me. Strip. Twist. Cap. Pull. Same cadence Daddy drilled into me in the basement when I was twelve, telling me a steady hand meant a steady mind.
But my hands were steady today. My head wasn’t.
Every pull, every twist, all I saw was Quentin’s mouth between my legs, tongue dragging me into a scream. His voice in my ear, sayinglook at me. My pussy clenched just remembering how he drove into me after, greedy for every inch.
“Focus, Rae,” I muttered, jerking the wire harder than I meant to.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I climbed down the ladder, flashlight tucked under my arm. Darren.
“Hey, Daddy Jr.,” I teased.
“Don’t call me that,” he groaned. “I’m not him.”
“You sound like him sometimes.”
“That’s age. Comes for us all.” His sigh rasped over the line. “Thinking about switching shifts. Nights are killing me. Barely see Keisha or the boys before bed.”
“You should. They need you.”
“Yeah,” he said. “But you know what else? They need me whole. Loneliness’ll eat a man alive if you let it.”
That line sat heavy. Kids of divorce knew it better thanmost. Splitting holidays, trading weekends, watching Mama and Daddy go from love to silence. Darren and me—we learned to keep it light. No long-term. No promises. Until he broke from the pack and fell in love with Keisha.
His voice softened. “You sound different today, Rae. Lighter. Like somebody’s got you smiling.”
My grip on the wire went stiff. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Means I know you,” he said, gentle but steady. “We ducked commitment for years ‘cause we thought it would break us like it broke them. But sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes it works. And when I hear you today? I hear possibility. So if somebody’s got you smiling, don’t run from it. And if he fucks it up…” His voice dropped into a warning I’d heard since childhood. “He’ll have to see me.”
That flicker of comfort—and annoyance—hit at once. Typical Darren. Protective to the bone, like I hadn’t been grown long enough to collect my own scars. But a flash of Vontrell still cut through—him lying slick and easy, promising me things he handed out to someone else behind my back. Darren had been right there, fists balled, ready to make him pay until I begged him not to.
So yeah, I knew he meant it. If Quentin so much as breathed wrong in my direction, Darren would have no problem reminding him I had people who loved me.
But my mind shifted to Darren’s words…possibility. That was Quentin all over. Steady in a way that scared me more than his filthy mouth or how good his dick felt. His steadiness kissed like forever was already carved into his bones.
“Work’s been good. That’s all,” I lied, throat thick.
