“Asshole,” she breathes.
Then she launches herself at me, hands sinking into my hair, thighs clamping tight over my hips.
And my girl fucks me.
She fucks me like a star in the backseat of my car.
“Wipe that smug smirk off your face,” she pants. “The moment I come, we’re done, whether you’ve finished or not.”
But her threat is wasted on me. Seeing her like this is enough to make me blow on the spot.
I wait until the telling rush of wetness swirls around the head of my dick, and she clenches, indicating she’s about to come.
Then I bring her to me by her neck, pulling her lips to mine, and release deep inside her with a groan.
“Fuck, Baby. That’s my girl.”
37
TATE
“Shallwe go and tell Daddy you’re ready for bed?”
Molly nods, her dark curls bobbing as I take her empty milk cup from her and place it on the counter. I walk with her toward Sullivan’s home office. He said he had a call to make to Jones, but he’s been gone the entire time Molly took to drink her milk, and I haven’t heard the low rumbling of his voice carrying down the hallway in a while.
Molly opens the door and barges straight inside, running over to him, sitting at his desk.
“Hey, Sweetheart.” His eyes snap up from his phone and he tosses it onto the desk and pulls Molly up into his arms.
“Sorry, it took longer than I thought,” he says to me, his eyes falling closed as he sinks his face into Molly’s shoulder and breathes her in.
I glance at his phone. The screen is still lit up, showing his call list. Jones is the second one down. But the most recent is a number with no name.
The same number repeats over and over down the list.Whoever it is, he must call them multiple times a day yet chooses not to save their name.
“It’s okay.” I glance up to find Sullivan watching me over Molly’s shoulder, his gaze sharp. Heat creeps into my cheeks like I’ve been caught snooping.
“Let’s get you to bed,” he says to Molly.
He reaches out and presses the button on the side of his phone, turning the screen off, then stands with her in his arms.
“I’ll wait in here for you,” I say as we walk into the living room. “Good night, Molly.” I ruffle her curls, and she gives me a sleepy smile.
I watch Sullivan’s retreating back as he leaves the room, then drop onto the sofa to wait. I can’t bring myself to play the piano tonight. My mind’s too busy, even though playing might help to distract me.
The last few days have been a whirlwind.
I didn’t dream about Liberty Records, despite wondering if my mind had made it all up. Their contract is fair, and I’m actually getting a great deal for a first-time artist. Sullivan insisted that Jones look over it for me, and he made a few adjustments that were in my favor.
Ashley has already covered my shifts with someone Huck knows, and my father can’t stop telling Larry how excited he is that he gets to join me for the whole four months of the tour.
It’s all booked and paid for. Our plane tickets are sitting in my email, and my suitcase is half-packed in my room at home.
But aside from practical things that Sullivan’s asked about to reassure himself that I’m prepared, we haven’t spoken about me leaving.
He’s either avoiding it, or he doesn’t care.
I pray it’s avoiding, because the alternative makes every cell in my body ache. He can’t not care. Not with the way we are together. Not after all these months.
