“Okay.”
“I, Zilphia Kensley, acknowledge Samuel Hendricks as master of all board games.”
“I’ll say it, but it’s not—” I go for her belly again. “Okay, okay!Don’t be so rash.” She fakes a cough, then clears her throat with a dramatic flair. “I, Zilphia Kensley, acknowledge Samuel Hendricks as master of all board games.”
“See, that wasn’t so hard,” I tease, gliding my thumb over her bottom lip.
She playfully nips at it, sending a violent jolt straight to my gut. Suddenly, our innocent banter ventures into forbidden territory, and I become acutely aware of my lean body pressed flush against her delicate curves. We’re so close that my reflection shines clearly in her soulful brown depths.
“Sam,” she gasps in a breathless whisper, feeling the shift too.
“Zilphia,” I murmur and gingerly seal my mouth to hers.
Flames dance through my veins the moment our lips touch, unleashing an explosion of need through my body. Zilphia lies motionless beneath me. My heart skips a beat, afraid she’ll pull away from me. But she doesn’t—she burrows her slender fingers through my hair and kisses me back. I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long, but I never truly believed it would happen. I want to shout. Tell the world that Zilphia is mine.
Blood swooshes in my ears as my cock grows hard against her. I push my tongue deep into her mouth and nudge my hips between her thighs, pressing my length against her warm center. I want to devour every inch of her. Her moans encourage me to delve my hand beneath her camisole, but before I can reach her breasts, she tears her mouth away.
“Stop!” she cries, pushing at my shoulders.
I sit back on my haunches as she frantically scurries to the nearest corner. “I’m sorry,” I start, but that’s a lie. I’d do it again. “No, you know what? I’m not sorry.”
“You have to go.”
“Why?” I growl, my nails biting into my palms. The pain keeps me in place; otherwise, I would’ve gone after her.
“Please, Sam,” she begs.
I leave, though my heart and mind rebel against it.
Danika’s fingers glide through my hair, massaging tea tree oil into my scalp in soft, practiced circles. She tousles my curls one last time before unsnapping the cape at my neck.
“You’re good to go, baby doll,” she announces.
I turn toward the mirror and run my fingers through the shiny, shoulder-length ringlets and smile. “Thanks, Danika. I love it.”
Momma’s making a big to-do about the homecoming dance. After school, she took me to get a manicure and pedicure, then dropped me off at the hair salon. She even bought me a gorgeous fuchsia satin dress and matching lace-up stiletto heels a few weeks ago, but I wasn’t expecting the full-fledged prom treatment.
“You’re welcome.” She squeezes my shoulder. “Knock ’em dead tonight.”
“I plan to.” I grin and exit the salon, stepping into the humid evening.
I spot Momma’s shimmery yellow-gold Audi across the street, and self-doubt’s nagging voice booms in my mind, faltering my steps. She let me choose my hairstyle, which means either she’sin a good mood… or something more sinister is awaiting me. I whisper a silent prayer, cross the street, and open the door.
“So what do you think?” I ask, sliding into the passenger seat.
“You look stunning,” she says, a calculating smile tugging at her lips as her eyes scan me like merchandise.
“I’m glad you like it,” I mutter, my internal alarm bells going off.
“I stopped by Lilac Fashion Boutique and got you a little something extra special for the homecoming dance tonight.” She plucks a small pink paper bag off the back seat and places it onto my lap. “Take a look.”
I excitedly rummage through the bag, expecting jewelry, but find a white lace bra and thong set. Confusion swiftly replaces my exuberance, angering Momma.
“Well?” she huffs.
“Um…” I’m at a loss for words.
There’s an ulterior motive behind this purchase, and I’m terrified to learn what it is. Undoubtedly, the nefarious scheme will benefit my mother the most.
