“Fuck, Ziggy,” I whisper again.
“Surprise,” she whispers back against my lips. “I was going to save this for the drive home, but we’re herenow, andohh, yes, there, right there, oh my god.”
The barest flick of her clit is all it takes to get her moaning.
And she’s so slick. So wet.
I’m hard as a rock, and I’m going to stay that way. But slipping two fingers into her vagina while I thumb her clit—this is heaven.
Listening to her soft pants and stifled moans while I finger-fuck her in the bushes—worth it.
Worth the ache in my balls and the strain in my cock and the knowledge that it’ll still be another two hours before we’re alone again.
Her gasps intensify as I jerk my fingers in and out of her channel.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” I whisper. “So fucking gorgeous when I’m fucking you.”
She stares back at me, glassy-eyed, pink all over her cheeks, lips parted as she pants. “You—Holt—love—oh my god.”
Her inner walls clench around my fingers while her head falls back, eyes drifting shut, mouth clamping shut to stifleher moans, that long, beautiful neck bared for me to suck on as she rides her orgasm.
How did I ever live before I had this woman in my life?
What was even the meaning of life before I first laid eyes on her?
The way I love this woman?—
“Get your goddamn filthy hands off my daughter,” someone roars.
Someone close.
Someone in my ear, actually.
The world tilts, and I’m being flung backward while Ziggy gasps. “No.”
“I told you,” someone else says.
Bushes catch me, and I come to my senses a split second before a meaty fist connects with my jaw and sends stars through my vision.
“Stop!” Ziggy shrieks.
There’s a flash of black and a whiff of vanilla, and my blurry double vision focuses on one point.
Ziggy.
Arms spread, back to me, standing between me and her stepfather.
“Do not,” she says, “everlay a hand on himagain. Do you understand me?”
“He knows the goddamn rules, andyou do too. What the fuck are you doing?” Roland snarls at her.
“Making up my own mind about what I want.” She’s panting.
She’s panting and she’s crying.
It’s the crying that splinters my heart.
“Roland? Ziggy? What’s going on?”
