Preach

by K. Webster

  My mom is gorgeous.

  Ding-dong!

  Elias startles and whimpers. Mom hurries to the door. My gaze follows after her as she swings open the door. Anthony Blakely stands on the other side of the door. When did that kid get so big? His hulking frame fills the doorway. Mom takes a step away from him. Anthony, despite his imposing body all muscles and hard lines, is harmless though.

  “Anthony Blakely?” Mom questions, astonished. “I had you confused for Quinn there for a moment.”

  Anthony gives her a crooked grin. “Dad doesn’t like that I’m taller than him.”

  She laughs—no, she giggles—as she steps aside. “Please, come in. Is there something you needed?”

  He saunters into the foyer. When he sees me, he waves. “Hey, Lace.”

  “Hey, Anthony.” We went to school together all our lives. Anthony is a couple of years behind me. At almost seventeen, he’s every bit of a man as his father or my husband.

  “I was next door at Mrs. Sing’s when I noticed your yard,” he tells Mom, his hands on his hips.

  Anthony is built like your typical high school football player god. Massive. Muscly. Cocky. His almost black hair hangs down over one of his eyebrows giving him a playful look about him. Anyone who knows Anthony, though, knows he’s anything but playful. His twin brother Aiden is the playful one. Anthony is broody and grumpy. Again, just like his father.

  “What about my yard?” Mom questions in defense.

  “Whoever you’re paying to do it, you should fire.” Anthony darts his gaze over to Easton in question.

  Easton laughs and raises both palms. “Don’t look at me. I offered and was told no.”

  “I do the yard,” Mom huffs. Her shoulders are stiff as she’s no longer happy to see him. Irritation has her lips pursing together. “Nothing is wrong with it.”

  Anthony snorts. “You cut the grass way too short for one. The edging isn’t straight. And do you know the difference between a weed and a flower? Your garden doesn’t.”

  Mom gapes at him and I can’t help but giggle.

  “Oh, boy,” I mutter under my breath.

  The stupid guy keeps on running his mouth. “It’s the worst looking yard on the street. Pales in comparison next to Mrs. Sing’s. Surely you’ve noticed how nice her yard looks?”

  Mom’s cheeks blaze bright red and I wonder why. I’ve noticed Anthony mowing next door before in just a pair of basketball shorts. When you’re married to the Adonis I am though, nothing compares. But the guilty flash in my mom’s eyes tells me she notices him. A lot.

  “It’s okay,” Mom lies. She’s told me on more than one occasion that Mrs. Sing has a nice yard.

  Anthony laughs. “It’s better than okay. It’s the best.”

  Mom swipes at a rogue blonde strand of hair from her eyes—clearly flustered—and lets out a sigh of annoyance. “So you came over here to tell me what a crap job I do on my yard? Thanks.”

  His grin is wolfish. “I came to see if you’d hire me.”

  At this, Mom scoffs. “You’re just like your dad. Arrogant and presumptuous. Of course I won’t hire you. Not only do you have the worst business spiel known to man, but I also can’t afford you.”

  More lies.

  Mom does well at her advertising firm.

  Anthony shrugs. “I’ll do it for free.” His brows furrow. “Well, not exactly free. A trade. I need something from you in return.”

  Mom’s face turns even brighter crimson. She shoots me a confused look. Easton chuckles from beside me.

  “What do you want from me?” Mom’s voice has risen a few octaves.

  Anthony pauses for a long time. His gaze unabashedly peruses along her curves before he meets her stare with a conspiratorial grin. “One thing.”

  “W-What?”

  He smirks. “I need you to get me an internship at your agency. Dad won’t let me intern at his company because he wants me to bring some different experiences to the table. Plus, the college I’m eyeing likes when you volunteer. Dad thinks it would be a conflict of interest if my only experience interning was with him.” His brows tug together in a puppy dog stare. I bite back a laugh because he clearly doesn’t know my mom. She’s seconds away from throttling him for being a little shit.

  “Okay.”

  My smile falls away. I’m stunned. “What?” I ask, my voice coming out a choke of surprise.

  Mom lifts her chin. “We need an intern. Quinn Blakely’s son would be a good fit if Anthony here has one iota of his father’s work ethic and drive.” She sighs and flutters his fingers at him. “And I do need a yard boy.”

  Anthony growls. “I’m not a boy.”

  Easton and I share a knowing look. No, Anthony is certainly not a boy. He looks like he’s perfectly capable of throwing my mom over his shoulder and carrying her upstairs. The thought has trickles of excitement surging through me.

  “She needs a pool guy too,” I pipe up. “Javier forgets to come half the time and does a crappy job.”

  “Lacy!” Mom admonishes. “I don’t need—”

  “I’ll do anything you want,” Anthony murmurs, his voice low and promising.

  It shuts Mom up. She shoots me a helpless stare and I shrug.

  “Looks like you have a job, Anthony,” I say with a grin.

  “From the sounds of it,” Easton chimes in. “Like three free jobs. Good luck with that. If you’re in the business of working for free, the church could always use an extra pair of hands to polish those pews. They sure do get dirty.”

  I shoot him a warning glare. We have only had sex in the sanctuary the one time, but it’s a time we’ll never forget. That moment was the catalyst for…everything.

  “I’ll think about it,” Anthony tells Easton before turning his attention to Mom. He juts out his massive arm and offers his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

  Mom’s tiny hand gets swallowed in his. He’s a mountain compared to her. I’ve always thought of her as feisty and larger than life. Right now, she’s a fair maiden about to be devoured by the giant in her tale.

  “You can let go now,” Mom rasps as she tries to tug away her hand.

  Anthony’s features darken. “It’s a three-part deal. The handshake takes at least three times longer to seal the deal.”

  He doesn’t let her go.

  And a part of me hopes he never does.

  Anthony Blakely is nothing but trouble.

  Mom needs a little trouble now that her little girl is no longer finding it every turn.

  “Do you see what I see?” Easton questions, his hot breath close to my ear. Elias sighs in his sleep and I absently stroke his dark hair.

  “I see, Preach.”

  “Do I need to kick his ass?”

  At this, I laugh. “Nah, she’s got it covered.” My mom jerks her hand away and points at the door.

  “Time to go, Anthony. You can come over tomorrow. Be prepared to sweat.” She tries her best to look threatening but fails miserably.

  “I look forward to you making me sweat, Ms. Greenwood,” he murmurs as he heads toward the door. He casts a heated glance at her over his shoulder. “All. Day. Long.”

  He leaves and it isn’t until the door slams shut that Mom let’s out an exasperated cry.

  “This was a bad idea, huh?” Her panicked eyes meet mine.

  Easton shrugs. “Everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves.”

  She kicks off her heels and storms off to her bedroom, clearly still in a panic about hiring a good-looking football player teenager. It’s a recipe for disaster. Good thing Mom knows her way around a kitchen.

  “They’re going to fuck,” Easton murmurs, his eyes gleaming wickedly.

  “Preachers can’t say fuck,” I scoff.

  He smirks. “Church nursery workers can’t say fuck either,” he challenges.

  I smile and shake my head. “We have much to be forgiven for, Preach.”

  “I’m going to take you home and we’ll add a few more naughty things to th
e list. Go big or go home, honey.”

  Leaning forward, I kiss his full lips. “Lead the way, sinner. The night is still young.”

  Lots of growling and stuffing items into a diaper bag before we’re loaded up and headed home. My preacher man is a man of his word. And he’s about to make good on his promise. All. Night. Long.

  As we drive, I bask in the happiness that seems to follow me like a thousand rays of sunshine after a rainy day. My series with the publisher about Mikey is doing well. My husband is hot and adoring and perfect in every way. Our son is adorable and a good baby.

  Life is better than I could have ever imagined.

  And I can’t wait to see what God has in store for us next.

  The End

  Bonus Story

  Deputy Gentry Adair

  “Gentry Adair,” Jessie hisses from inside the jail cell, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder like the typical high school cheerleader she is. “I’m going to kill you.”

  I snort and shake my head at her. “You can’t threaten a cop. It’s illegal.”

  Her perfect lip curls up, baring her teeth, as she glares at me. “Illegal? This”—she motions around her—“is illegal. Besides, you’re not even a real cop. You’re just my brother’s lame-ass best friend.” She crosses her arms over her ample chest, which is barely contained in her sunny yellow dress with a plunging halter-top neckline. Her nostrils flare with fury. Sweet little Jessie Bennett grew up into one helluva sexy spitfire, didn’t she?

  “This,” I say with a tap of my finger to the badge on my belt, “says I’m real. These”—I jangle the handcuffs—“say I’m real.” I laugh and flash her a grin. “You were a bad girl, and I did my job.” I’m the only one here at this hour in our small-town precinct. Nobody to interfere with my devious plans.

  “Goddammit, I hate you.”

  I quirk a brow at her. “Really? Because two years ago, when you could have gotten my ass sent to prison, you begged me to fuck you. That offer still stand?”

  If looks could kill, I’d be dead right now. Her icy blue eyes are hard and furious. “I want my phone call, asshole.” Those plump lips of hers are bitable as hell. I remember when they used to smile for me—bright and adoring. Once upon a time, she was an annoying kid who had a crush on me. Then, one day, she was a pretty young woman who would give me blue balls just by walking in the room with her coy smiles and flirtatious grins. But completely off limits. Now, though, she’s finally fucking legal. About damn time.

  I saunter over to the landline on my desk and unplug it from the wall. “Oops. It’s broken.” When I turn back around, her anger has faded some and confusion has set in.

  “What are you doing?” she huffs and throws her hands on her curvy hips. “Are you just fucking with me or what?”

  I stalk back over to her and lick my lips. Soon, I’ll have her taste smeared all over my tongue. Mark my words. This has been a long time coming.

  “Oh, sweetness, I do have plans for you…” I trail off and regard her with a smoldering grin. Her anger completely fades as she lets her gaze roam down the front of my body. When her eyes land on my cock—which is extremely happy to see her and stiff in my slacks—she lets out a gasp of surprise. Those icy blues of hers are heated when they dart back up to mine. I love how her neck turns bright red, just like it used to whenever I’d come over to her house to see my best friend Joey. The girl followed me around like a lost puppy.

  I behaved myself then because I was seven years her senior.

  Also, because my best friend would have murdered me for touching his sister.

  But Joey’s working in Chicago now, and Jessie’s finally eighteen.

  No more waiting. No more rules. No more obstacles standing in my way.

  When I start tugging at the knot of my tie, her eyes widen.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking off my tie. What are you doing?” I challenge with a smirk.

  “I’m being unlawfully held by a douchebag on my birthday,” she sasses, her bottom lip jutting out in the cutest fucking pout. I’m going to bite that lip.

  I toss the tie away and start unbuttoning my uniform shirt. She begins fanning her face. This girl, who’s wanted this for as long as I can remember, suddenly doesn’t look so sure of herself. I’ll just have to convince her.

  “You should spend your birthday with me, anyway. Those friends of yours don’t know you like I do,” I tell her, my voice dropping to a low growl. Earlier, when my buddy James called to tell me the bar was crammed full of underage girls, drinking for Jessie’s eighteenth birthday, I was furious and knew what I had to do. I didn’t care about the other girls. Just one. Mine.

  “You don’t know me at all,” she tries, her voice shaking.

  I lift a brow at her as I peel off my shirt and toss it to the floor. “Oh,” I say as though I’m confused. “I thought you wanted me.” She and I both know that’s the fucking truth.

  “You thought wrong,” she lies, her nostrils flaring as her eyes greedily skim over my sculpted chest, which is barely covered by my wife beater.

  I stalk over to the cell and gesture her closer. “Come say that to my face, liar.”

  The dress she’s wearing leaves little to the imagination. It’s tight and practically fucking see-through. I’m so glad I stole her away from all the leering eyes at the bar. I can see her perfect nipples perking up through the fabric—nipples I’m going to bite and suck until they’re tender and sore.

  “I don’t want you,” she hisses as she stomps forward. Her hands grab the bars as she leans in so she can glower at me. “I. Don’t. Want. You.”

  With lightning speed, I reach forward and snag her neck in my grip. Her gorgeous blue eyes widen in shock when I pull her face against the wide-set bars. She’s so tiny, I bet if she tried, she could wriggle herself through them. Pink, supple lips are parted between the bars—just waiting to be sucked and worshipped.

  “Lie to me again, sweetheart,” I growl.

  She whimpers when I stroke the side of her neck with my thumb. “I…”

  Leaning into her, I brush my nose against hers. “What’s that, Jessie?”

  “I…”

  “You want me to kiss you?” I quip, my lips grazing softly against hers. My cheekbones protest against the metal bars but it doesn’t stop me from getting to my prize. Just enough room to reach what’s mine.

  She mewls and lets out the sexiest sound of approval. I don’t wait for actual words and lean forward to kiss the mouth I’ve been dying to devour for two long years. Lips that belonged to me, but I wasn’t allowed to touch. And, goddamn, are they sweet as hell. My palm slides down the front of her chest, and I cup her full tit, letting my thumb drag across her peaked nipple. A moan of pleasure escapes her, so I take the moment to deepen the kiss. Her tongue isn’t shy and meets mine with a greedy eagerness that matches my own. Our kiss is heated and not fucking enough. I need so much more from her…

  I slide my hand down her taut stomach toward the place that’s been as forbidden as the apple in the damn garden of Eden. I’m going to devour that fruit. And I’m going to fucking enjoy every second of it.

  My hand slips up under her dress, and I’m pissed to find her naked underneath. I let out a growl as I slide my finger between her wet pussy lips, locating her throbbing clit. A whimper escapes her, but I consume it along with her plump bottom lip. As I tease her pussy, I pull away from her, but not before nipping at her lip first. When I regard her, her mouth is red and swollen. Her eyes swimming with lust. Fuck, she’s hot.

  “Why did you wear this shit? Who were you trying to fuck?” I demand and not so gently pinch her clit.

  She shudders with desire but flashes me a fiery glare. “You never wanted it,” she bites out but then moans again when I slide a finger inside her tight channel. “I-I figured s-someone else would—oh God!”

  I fuck her dripping pussy with my finger while grinding the heel of my hand against her clit. It drives her wild
because she quivers so much I wonder if she’ll collapse. But her white-knuckled grip on the bars tells me she’s along for the ride until the end.

  Hang on, sweetness, this ride goes all night.

  She comes with a shriek that has my cock straining painfully against my uniform slacks. The moment she comes down from her high, I slip my hand out of her and bring my wet finger to my lips. I smear her juices across my mouth and then dart my tongue out to taste her.

  So. Fucking. Sweet.

  I glare and point at her with my wet finger. “Let’s get something straight right now. I wanted you when I wasn’t supposed to. And now that I’m allowed to have you, I’m going to have every goddamned part of you. Get ready, sweetness, I’m just getting started.”

  Little Jessie Bennett

  Oh. My. God.

  Gentry Adair just kissed and then fingerfucked me!

  I shouldn’t be so excited, considering he did this after he locked me up in a stupid cell, but I can’t help it. A dream I’ve been fantasizing over for as long as I can remember has finally come true. Happy birthday to me.

  The man has always been sexy, but it wasn’t until he graduated from the police academy and became our town’s deputy that he became unbelievably hot. It has to be the uniform. Yet…he’s slowly removing items from his belt and losing said uniform quickly. And the man is getting more good looking by the second. There goes that theory…

  “We’re going to fuck right there on that cot,” he tells me with a smug crooked grin that would soak my panties, if I were wearing any. Gentry has always had this effect on me. So many times when he’d come over to hang out with my brother, I’d end up in my room later touching myself to thoughts of him making love to me.