The first thrust makes her cry out. The second makes her moan. Now she’s just a mess of garbled words and gasping breaths.
“You’re gonna get us in so much fucking trouble,” I whisper into her ear.
“I don’t care. I love getting into trouble with you.”
God, I love this woman. I slide my hand up her torso, underneath the bodice of her dress.
No fucking bra.
I squeeze her tit, running my thumb over her sensitive nipple. Her skin is so soft, I just want to touch her everywhere. Reaching over the layers of fabric, I find her soaking-wet thong. It’s already askew. I part her labia and start to rub tight, slow circles over her clit.
Her knees almost buckle.
“Yes,” she moans. “God, yes. Right there.”
I tighten my hold around her chest, give her clit all the attention it deserves, and fuck her until we’re both crying out so loud, the whole West Coast is probably blushing.
Still panting, a laugh escapes my lips. My forehead falls to her shoulders, and soon they’re shaking with high-pitched giggles.
“Oh my god,” she gasps, then snorts. “My mascara is gonna run.”
“Do you think they sent out a search party yet?” I carefully pull out, making sure to keep her dress out of the way. I may enjoy knowing she’s got the evidence of our lovemaking still on her skin, but I think she’d kill me if it left a giant cum stain on the train of her dress.
“Nah.” She straightens and fans out her skirt. I start to pull up my boxers and pants, but stop to take a second to just look at her.
“You really are beautiful,” I tell her. “I thought so from the first moment I saw you in high school, but then I got to know you, and realized your beauty is just part of you. It radiates out of every pore.”
She turns, smoothing out her dress one last time. She bends down and picks up my jacket, which fell on the ground at some point, and slings it over her shoulder, taking a step forward to adjust my tie. “I think you’re beautiful too,” she says with a contagious grin on her face.
“I think you mean handsome.”
“I said what I said.”
We finish adjusting our clothes and emerge from the closet. Pres takes a minute to tidy up her makeup, deciding that it will serve as a good excuse if anyone asks where we’ve been. Considering we’re both flushed and look extremely satisfied, I doubt anyone will believe us.
Five minutes later, we step into the hallway. I take her hand. My eyes drift down to the closed door that used to be mine.
She notices.
“It’s my mom’s yoga room now,” she says, with a soft sadness in her voice.
“Pres, it’s okay,” I tell her. “I didn’t expect them to keep it the same.” Even her room has been painted and remodeled since she moved out.
“They did, though,” she explains. “They didn’t change it for years, Hollis. They tried not to let it show how much it affected them, but they always hoped you’d come back.”
My throat feels thick. I nod, brushing my thumb over hers. Plastering on a smile, I say, “We should head downstairs. Don’t want to keep them waiting. We are the guests of honor, after all.”
We’re halfway down the stairs when Tilly comes barreling up. “Where have you been? Everyone’s waiting!”
“I, uh…” Pres stumbles over her words. “Had to touch up my makeup.”
Tilly rolls her eyes. “Did you touch up your husband’s too? ’Cause you’re both positively glowing.” I sputter out a laugh. A smirk plays on her lips. “Come on.”
We walk past people carrying platters of food and flowers. I’ve never seen so many people at the Creed house before. I thought holidays were chaotic.
Just before we reach the living room, which leads out to the deck, Tilly stops and turns. “How do you want to be introduced?”
“Introduced?” Pres raises a brow.
