She inhales a deep breath, her chest expanding as she does. “He doesn’t give me child maintenance, no. But he does buy her clothes and stuff.”
I put my fork down and stare at her. “Yeah, but it costs money to raise a child.”
She pushes her plate away, the cutlery clinking against the china from the force, her posture now rigid. “Don’t you think I bloody well know that?” She fixes me with a stare.
“Of course, that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” She jerks her hand between us. “I’ve been raising Molly for four fucking years, Olly. You’ve been in the picture a pin prick in comparison.” Her voice hardens. “How many kids have you raised?”
I flinch and hold up my hand, palm facing her. “None, but believe it or not, I do have both your interests at heart.” Slipping off my stool, I grab our dishes and walk towards the kitchen counter.
“Olly,” her voice softens.
I take a deep breath to expel my annoyance—not with her, but the situation with Marcus. She wraps her arms around my waist from behind. I spin in her arms, pull her into my body. “You both deserve better, that’s all.”
“Thank you,” she says, lifting her chin, eyes gazing up at mine.
I lean down. My lips stroke hers, they part, and my tongue seeks hers. I lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist. I walk her over to the island, rest her on the edge. My lips skim her throat, down to her breasts, her chest heaving.
She grips my hair.
I make my way down her body, kissing her reverently, lifting her enough to pull her free from her leggings and knickers. And then my mouth is all over her—sucking, nipping, licking.
“Ah, Olly,” she groans, and my dick strains uncomfortably in my jeans. “Yes,” she says, as I continue to fuck her with my tongue. “Please, Olly, I want you,” she whines. I suck her hard one last time before pulling back.
I make quick work of ridding my clothes. Her eyes go wide, my dick at attention. “We can’t do it here,” she says, her gaze darting towards the door.
“Yes, we can,” I say and pull her towards me.
She bites her bottom lip. “What about Molly?”
“You’ll hear the monitor,” I say, and turn up the volume to full.
I lift her off the counter and position her until she’s sliding down my dick. We both let out a satisfied groan, and then I walk until her back is flush with the patio door before thrusting into her hard against the glass. The whole structure rattles.
I pull back and slide it open, one arm securely holding her in place. Stepping onto the patio, I walk us over to the padded furniture to lay her down.
And then I continue my ministrations, my balls slapping wildly against her arse as I thrust into her hot centre. Her nails dig into my flesh, her sounds getting louder.
Though my garden is entirely enclosed, the neighbours might hear her. I reach up, cover her mouth with my hand; her eyes go wide and her tongue darts out, licking my palm. And suddenly, I don’t give a flying fuck about the noise. I move it away and cup her breast then pinch her nipple.
A feral sound escapes her, driving me harder, faster. Sex has never been this good. She sits up on her elbows, increasing the sensation. I almost let go—until reality settles in. “Shit, condom.”
“I have the implant,” she says.
“I’ve always been careful. Are you sure?” I grunt, still thrusting inside her.
“Yes,” she says on a plea, her channel pulsating around me like a vice as her orgasm hits. Something builds at the base of my spine. Two more deep thrusts is all it takes, and then ice and fire ignite deep within me as I give over to the blissful pleasure of release.
Chapter Thirty-Six
RACHEL
We lay cocooned on the couch, his fingers tracing patterns over the bare skin of my thigh just below the hem of his t-shirt.
“Tell me about when Molly was born?”
I lean back and look at his face. “What do you want to know?” I ask, lacing my fingers with his.
