He lifts me off my feet with one hand, and I’m forced to drop his dick. I wrap my legs around him and slide my hands through his damp hair.
“My king,” I say while looking directly into his eyes.
“My baby,” he says back. “Or my sleeping beauty.”
“You wore me out last night.” We went to see a movie, and on the way home, he stuck his free hand up my skirt. We barely made it out of the garage before he fucked me against the wall.
“I’m not done with you yet.” His lips land on mine again. He walks a few steps, puts me down, pulls his shorts off, and sits on the bike. His dick stands straight up, and he gestures at it.
I straddle him. It’s a tight squeeze on the bike, but we make it work. He kisses me until I’m breathless.
“Ready?” he asks. When I nod, he lifts my shirt over my head and tosses it to the floor. If we were anywhere else, I’d feel self-conscious, but Rip is the only one who lives on this street. Other than the time he let me have my friends over, no one has ever been here, and I know he would never put me in a vulnerable position.
He sucks a nipple into his mouth, and when he bites it, I throw my head back and sigh. He wraps his arm around my waist, lifts me high enough for me to position his dick at my entrance, and I slide down.
“I really wanted to suck that,” I admit.
“There’s always tonight,” he says against my mouth. “Ride me.”
And I do. I put my hands on his strong shoulders and work my hips. I bounce slowly on top of him, and he lets me have total control. He’s never told me, but I’m certain he’s never let another woman have control. There are parts of him that I’m positive he’s only shown to me.
He calls my name against my ear and says, “I love you. Forever.”
I close my eyes and feel him inside of me. The dam bursts, and I shout his name. He soon follows behind me.
“Call me if you need me to come pick you up. Don’t drink and drive.” He holds the car key above my head like I’m a rebellious teenager.
“I thought you said you had work.”
“I do, but I will come get you.” He taps my ass and kisses my neck.
“I gotta go. Mom hates when I’m late.” I jump up and snatch the keys.
Mom is already in the lobby when I get there, and true to her word, she’s alone. We hug, but she pulls away and looks around me as if she’s expecting someone. Then she looks into my eyes.
“You okay, Mom?”
She nods and exhales in relief.
“You’re acting weird.”
“Just happy to see you.” We follow the hostess to a table toward the back of the nearly empty restaurant.
We order drinks and chat about nothing important. The conversation is light, and I wait for her to bash Ripley, only she doesn’t. She does, however, look behind her several times.
“Are things good with Ripley?”
I search her face. When she asks that, it usually holds a hint of hope that things will be bad.
“Wonderful,” is all I say.
“Good.”
My eyes narrow. “Good? Really? Since when?”
“I want you to be happy.”
“Just not with him, though, right?”
