Lining my cock up with her ass, I give her a nudge. Instead of jerking away like I expect her to, she widens her knees and cants her ass toward me. My mouth turns dry, and I chuckle a strained sound. “Sunshine, we’re not there yet. But good to know.”
“I want you everywhere. I have no idea why. You’re some kind of addiction, Hadley Jones.”
“Baby, I want that too, but we have a long time to get there. Save something for later.”
Her hands wind behind my neck and my mouth is on hers, her hunger burning through my own. Tracing a hand over her belly and hips, I find her clit, rubbing scant circles over it.
She moans, and I take the perfect sound and swallow it down.
Fuckingmine.
Her legs start to shake, and I nudge her entrance with my tip. Her mouth breaks away. “Please don’t take it away this time,” she whispers.
I bury my face in her neck, her hair.
“Never, Sunshine.”
That’s all it takes for me to cave. To give up the upper hand to this woman. One little ask, and I’m putty in her hands. I thrust up into her and she arches, hands grabbing for my hair. I cup a bouncing breast and thrum her hard peak with my thumb. “Go on, baby, make those pretty little noises for me.”
Her breathing shallows out to ragged bursts encased in whimpers as I pick up the pace.
Remembering the way she tightened around me last time, I slide my hand up to her throat and wrap my fingers around it.
“Hadley...” The words are strained. Her pussy flutters around my cock.
“Come for me, Sunshine. Strangle my cock, beautiful.”
My thrusts turn sloppy the second she lets go.
Fisting her hair, I ride out the last of my release, shooting deep inside her.
“Fuck, Maggie. Goddamn it, Sunshine.”
Spent, I rest my head on her shoulder. She lays hers back on mine, kissing my jawline, fine fingers threading through my hair.
“Best torture ever,” she utters.
I chuckle into her neck, wishing we could stay like this for the rest of time.
Knowing that’s not a possibility. Hell, it may not even be what she wants.
With that thought, I unwind myself from her hold, mumble something about cleaning up, and make my way to the bathroom to fetch a washcloth, my heart ragged and bare on my sleeve.
Nia is sitting on the living room floor, making Maggie help her with a project she’s been working on. The two of them are elbows-deep in a collage that’s the size of a small country.
“How’s it coming along?” Gemma asks, flopping onto the sofa and turning on the TV.
“Fine,” Maggie says.
“Great!” Nia chirps at the same time.
“You don’t like it?” my youngest sister adds, her face falling.
“Of course I do, but it’s kind of like the carbon copy of everybody’s vision board you see on Pinterest. The goals are generic. Nice things. Happy girl. Expensive clothes, etc. Like youthink that’s what youshouldwant.” Maggie’s face is soft, caring with a fine line of challenge flaring in her eyes.
Nia drops her gaze to the large piece of card she’s scattered pictures all over. After twelve months of community college, she’s ready for bigger and better things. Let’s hope I can earn enough points to cash in a big win and earn the money to pay for it.
“Hmmm. I guess I see it.”
