“Still on the right track?” he asks, his voice low.
“Uh-huh,” I breathe, biting my lip. “You’re being a very good boy.”
He grins darkly at the encouragement. “I’ll be the best boy,” he growls, before hooking one of my legs over his shoulder. “You’ll see,” he reassures me, then slides my panties to the side. His breath is hot against my wet skin as he leans in, parting me with his thumbs, and promptly licking a long stripe through my soaking wet folds.
My head drops back, and I wiggle my hips in an attempt to spread my legs wider, moaning wantonly as he works me over. His hands move to cradle my ass while he licks and sucks, switching to focus all of his attention on my clit. He follows my cues, increasing the pressure of his tongue, moving it in a tight circular motion that has me hopping on one leg and gripping his shoulders to steady myself. One of his hands leaves my ass, and he slides a long, thick finger inside me, pumping into me with smooth strokes. It’s followed quickly by a second, and then a third.
“Fuck, Sunshine,” he groans against my heated skin. “I will grovel for you every day if it means I get to eat your sweet pussy like this.”
I bite my lip, groaning out my approval of that plan as he curves his fingers in a beckoning motion inside me, hitting the spot that ignites a ripple of pleasure within me. I grunt in a very unladylike way and shift my hands to his head when he pauses his licking to suck my clit. My fingers grip his hair, holding him there, silently urging him to do it again. Thank God he can read minds, because hedoes. Our eyes lock, and he holds my gaze as he leans in and sucks it once more.Hard.
My back arches, and I break for him then, clenching and rippling around his fingers, shouting his name into the quiet of the library. Satisfaction flares in his eyes as he watches me go over the edge. I nearly lose my balance, but his free hand comes around to hold me in place, his fingers tightening on my hip in a way I’m certain will leave a mark. Speaking of marks, he presses a wide-mouthed kiss to my inner thigh, sucking until he’s left a darkening welt. “For good measure,” he murmurs. “So you remember who you belong to.”
He sets the gusset of my panties back in place, then helps me to slip my pants and shoes back on, before slowly getting to his feet and taking my mouth in a bruising kiss. His tongue slides between my lips, and I taste myself.
“Should’ve kissed you the moment I saw you,” he murmurs. “Won’t make that mistake again.”
We walk to my car, hand-in-hand, and all the while I grin like the cat that ate the canary. My panties are soaked beyond the point of discomfort, especially given the wind chill, but I don’tcare. Not only did I let him go down on me in the front entry of my place of work—still without having locked the door, I might add—but I also initiated it and asked for what I wanted.
I like that he let me play this game with him. It’s not something I ever would have done back then, but I’m a woman now with a lot fewer hang-ups or fucks to give, and while my self-esteem hasn’t been great in recent years, Riley’s seemingly never-ending hunger for me has done wonders to build my confidence.
Plus, I’m having fun.
Lettingmyself have fun.
And … I’m happy. Happier than I’ve been in a very long time.
We stop a few feet from my car, and I smile up at him. Even bathed in the yellow cast of the streetlights, he’s gorgeous.
“Good night,” I say, then pause before throwing over my shoulder as I turn towards my car, “stalker!”
He chuckles and shoots back with “Maybe, but a romantic stalker, right?”
And once again, he waits for me to get into my car and pull away before climbing into his truck and returning to work.
32
Riley
Iwaketotheslickfeel of a dog tongue on my face.
“Hey buddy,” I croak as Connor climbs on my chest. He continues to sneak licks at my face, his little feet dancing excitedly on my sternum and tail whirring at the prospect of food to come.
I chuckle. “Alright, I’m up. I’m up! Is it time for breakfast?”
He freezes momentarily at the b-word before his body resumes his enthusiastic gyrations with evenmore vigor.
I lift him off and set him down beside me on the mattress, where he spins in circles several times before launching off the bed and racing to the door. There, he spins once more before looking back over his shoulder at me expectantly.
“I know,” I reassure him. “I’m coming.”
I climb from the bed and open the door for him, following the quick patter of his feet down the hall to the kitchen.
It’s Sunday, the day my mom usually goes fishing with Jack. She’ll have been up with the birds and off to The Narrows, a marshy area that connects the two lakes, and a popular location for recreational anglers.
My mother quit going to church after my father died. She says gliding through those still waters on her small trolling boat as the sun rises, casting the soft ripples on the surface in gold, is the closest she gets to God nowadays. It’s her happy place, and I suspect the company might have a little to do with it, too.
I help myself to the remains of the coffee she’d brewed before she left and scoop some of the homemade dog food she’s recently begun making into Connor’s bowl. He inhales it and then follows me to the back door, where I let him out to relieve himself in the yard. Standing in the open doorway, I breathe in the damp spring air. The grass is still covered in morning dew, but there’s not a cloud in the sky, and I know the sun will burn any lingering chill away before too long.
