by K. Webster
Talk about everything under the sun.
Nap and then pizza.
More television.
“How do you feel?” I ask her, my voice low and raspy.
She lifts up from where she’s cuddled against my side. “I feel fine. Why?”
Running my fingers up along her hips, I murmur, “I meant between your legs.”
Her cheeks redden and she bites on her bottom lip. “Oh. There. It feels like it might need some attention.”
I laugh and stroke a strand of blonde hair from her eyes. “Is that so? With my tongue? My fingers? My cock?”
She swallows. “Maybe all three.”
“Well, we better go take a look. We’re wasting daylight.”
A squeal escapes her when I rise from the couch, taking her with me. I carry her down the hallway to my room. Once inside, I set her on the bed and peel away her dress. I love looking at her perfect honey-colored skin. She tastes sweet too.
With my eyes searing into hers, I begin popping through buttons as quickly as I can. I shed the dress shirt and then tug off the undershirt. Her eyes widen upon seeing my chest.
“Wow…” she breathes in appreciation.
“What?”
“That chest. I mean…” she trails off her and her eyes drop to my lower abs. “I didn’t realize you were inked everywhere. You mean to tell me the good boy preacher was hiding all this underneath his clothes?”
I shrug as I pop the button on my jeans. “I’m not inked everywhere.”
She licks her lips which makes my cock jolt in my pants. “Prove it.”
With my eyes glued to her pretty mouth, I unzip my jeans and let them fall to the floor. When I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my black boxers, she bites on her plump pink lip. I push the material down my thighs and revel in the whine that escapes her. Her blue eyes are flickering with lust the moment my thick cock bobs out. I reach for a condom on the nightstand and tear the foil before sheathing myself with the rubber.
“You’re not tattooed there,” she observes.
“You’re not tattooed anywhere.”
Her eyes that were flaming with desire dim suddenly and she looks away. The emotion is so brief that if I didn’t pay attention to every blink, every breath she takes, I’d have missed it. I pounce on her and lay her back with my body covering hers. My cock aches pressed against her but my heart aches more.
I want to know every time she’s sad. Just like I want to know each time she’s happy.
“What is it?” I murmur, my mouth pressing soft kisses along her jawline to her ear. “Where’d you go just then?”
She lets out a heavy sigh. “I can’t get anything past you.” Her voice is almost ashamed. “It’s nothing.”
I suck on her earlobe and then breathe against her ear. “It was something. Tell me, Lace. Tell me everything.”
Her fingers slide up my shoulders and up my neck to my hair. I love when she clings to me as though she’ll die if I were to leave. I’m not going anywhere.
“I want one but you’ll probably think it’s stupid,” she whispers.
I spread her thighs apart and settle my body against hers. I grip her jaw and stare down at her. “I never think you’re stupid, honey. You’re the smartest girl I know.”
She laughs and then her blue eyes meet mine, her brows pinched together. “I want to get one. A pair of angel wings to signify the angel I lost.”
I kiss her mouth. “I don’t think that’s stupid at all. In fact, I’ll take you to get it done on your birthday.”
“Really?”
“Really.” I nip at her bottom lip. “Now stop holding things in around me. Let them out and let me carry your burdens with you.”
She whimpers when I start rubbing against her. My cock slides up between the lips of her pussy teasing her.
“Easton…”
“Yeah, baby?”
“I need you.”
“Like this?” I push into her with one hard thrust that has her screaming. I love her screams. Now that I’ve had one, I want to pull many, many more from her.
“Yes,” she moans. “Just like that.”
Our mouths crash together as I piston against her. Her heels dig into my ass and her fingernails claw the hell out of my shoulders. Being inside of her is the best feeling I’ve had in my entire life. Nothing else matters but her. Her body is tight and responsive. Mine.
“Fuck,” I hiss against her mouth. “Holy fuck.”
She giggles and I take the opportunity to strike at her neck with my teeth. I bite at the flesh and groan when her pussy clenches around me each time I do it. My sweet girl likes it a little rough. I suck on the flesh before biting hard enough to make her beg me to stop.
I won’t stop.
I can’t stop.
All I can do is devour her. Every decadent inch. I give her a reprieve from the biting and suckle her earlobe as I drive brutally into her. It’s been so long since I’ve touched a woman that being with Lacy feels like heaven. It goes against everything I’ve been taught in The Bible but I can’t seem to care. She’s innocent and perfect—being with her is like being with an angel. It can’t be wrong because it feels too right.
Her breathing is sharp and uneven. I don’t know if she’s close to coming but I want her unraveling beneath me when I get ready to climax. I slide my hand between us and massage her hot clit. Each time I slide in and out of her, my fingertips brush along my dick. Her moans get louder until she’s right on the cusp. She seems to hold her breath and go silent for a beat before she jolts beneath me. My eyes snap shut as my nuts seize up with my orgasm. I throb out my release with a string of curse words tumbling from my lips. When I finally collapse on her, she starts giggling again.
“Your mouth gets dirty in the heat of the moment.”
I growl. “When I’m inside you, I lose my mind.”
She hugs me and kisses my sweaty hair. “Good. The feeling is mutual. Now when can I clean my dirty preacher boy up?”
I grope her tit and lift up to grin at her. “Don’t let the water and soap fool you. I can defile you just as easily in there.”
Pulling away from her, I tug off the used condom and dispose of it. Once the water is turned on, I saunter back out to find her sitting on the edge of the bed looking like a picture of innocence. Her golden waves hang in front of her tits hiding them from me and her legs are primly crossed at the ankle. She wears an expression that alludes to the exact opposite of getting drilled in her tight pussy by her preacher who’s old enough to be her father.
“Come here, honey,” I growl as I snag her wrist.
She’s all smiles as I pull her to her feet. Her arms encircle the back of my neck and she stares up at me with such a strong emotion that I’m nearly knocked over by it. I slide my hands to her ass and lift her. She hooks her silky legs around my waist. Having her open and ready again has my eager cock waking right up. It bobs against her ass as I walk with her to the shower. As soon as I step under the spray and jerk the curtain closed, our mouths fuse together. I can’t seem to get enough of her and it’s as though the feeling is mutual on her end. Our tongues slide against each other in a desperate way.
“You’re mine,” I murmur against her mouth as the hot water rains down on us. I don’t know why I feel the urge to state this so often but it’s truth. She’s mine and nothing will come between us. I won’t let it, dammit.
“Yes,” she agrees. “Yours.”
I squeeze her ass to pull her away from me and then I push my thickness deep inside her with one hard thrust. She squeals into my mouth but then she gets on the same page as me and her body rocks against mine. I pin her to the cold tile wall for leverage so I can drive harder into her. Over and over again, I hammer into her because she’s mine.
“Easton!” she cries out. “Oh, God!”
We’re a tangled mess of wet limbs and bumping teeth. The slapping of our flesh and our feral sounds creates a song I could listen to on repeat. I keep her upright between
the wall and my one hand on her ass but use my free hand to massage her sensitive clit. She whimpers and begs and then she’s coming. Hard and without a care in the world. Her head tilts back and she wails, baring her beautiful throat to me. I latch onto her creamy neck and then I’m coming too.
Thrust.
Thrust.
Thrust.
And then, dammit, I’m pulling out and spending the rest of my climax against her taut stomach between us. Neither of us say a word. She just clutches onto me tightly and buries her face against my neck. I pull her from the wall when she shivers and back under the hot spray where I simply hold her until the water runs cold.
It’s been three and a half weeks since Easton and I started sleeping together. Of course we keep it a secret. The last thing we need is for him to go to prison for sleeping with me when my birthday is just a month away. It doesn’t stop him though from feeling me up in his office and claiming me on his desk every Saturday with Lucinda on the other side of the door. He did, however, hang a curtain in his office so that Bobby wouldn’t get any more free shows.
I shudder at the thought of Bobby watching us.
“Are you cold, sweetheart?” Mom asks.
She’s all smiles and relaxed now that Aunt Kimmie is back on her feet and on her own. It’s just us having girl time once again. We’re at a nail salon with our feet soaking before we get pedicures.
“I’m fine. Where are we going to eat after this?”
“Moon Wok is around the corner. Want Chinese?” she asks.
I give her a smile and nod.
“Did you send off any of those college applications?” she asks absently as she digs in her purse.
“Mmmhmmm,” I lie and thankfully she’s too distracted to notice. I graduated from high school last weekend and she’s been more adamant about my getting a business degree like her. I’ve been told a million times that I’ll have an internship position there while I go to school. Problem is, I’m not sure if that’s what I want to do. I’ve never been a numbers person like my friend Ava Prince. I’m more of a creative type. But, according to Mom and the world, you can’t pay the bills with creativity.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I quickly retrieve it.
Preach: I miss you, vixen.
My smile widens. Now that school has officially ended, we’re hoping to see more of each other than just Saturdays which was our only real day to be together. Mom would drop me off in the morning and he didn’t take me back home until much later that evening. We’d spend the entire day together. The Walking Dead. Pizza. And as much sex as we could squeeze in until I’d have to cry uncle when my vagina was worn out and we’d give in to heavy petting instead. His cock is brutal. A weapon. Sometimes, I can only handle so much before I’m walking bowlegged and sore for days.
Me: I miss you too.
Preach: When can I see you again?
Me: Soon. Now that summer is officially here, I can come hang out with you at the church. Maybe help you work.
Preach: If you come to the church, I can assure you, I won’t get any work done. But I do love the idea of seeing you every day.
Me: You make me happy.
I let out a sigh and Mom laughs beside me.
“Okay, Lacy Lou. You’re going to have to spill,” she says in amusement. “You’ve practically got hearts in your eyes.”
I freeze and tuck my phone away in my purse. “It’s nothing.”
“Bryce? The boy from church?”
I cringe because I don’t want to lie to her. She’s been coming every Sunday with me so surely she’s noticed that I don’t talk to Bryce much. Only in passing. Besides, anytime Bryce comes at me, Lydia plays interference. I’m not as intimidated by her now and it shocks me that she seems to want to protect me from Bryce, especially when it feels like his brother Bobby is the bigger threat.
“Uh, not exactly.”
Her blue eyes twinkle in anticipation. We’ve always been close and I’m not one to withhold information from her. Guilt gnaws at me. I want to tell her but then I worry about how that could affect Easton if she reacts badly.
“Baby,” she coos. “You went from elated to positively frightened. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m not going to be upset. We’ve been through a lot together. I think we can handle whatever it is.”
I swallow down my emotion. I’m afraid she won’t understand our relationship. Telling her in the middle of the salon seems like a terrible idea.
“Can I tell you over dinner?
Her brows furrow in concern. “Sweetheart, you’re scaring me.”
My tears spill over and I wring my hands together. She reaches over and tugs my hand into hers. When I glance at her, she’s crying too. The women who are working on our feet chatter on in a language I don’t understand but don’t ask what’s wrong.
“Mom, I’m in love,” I choke out. “Not infatuation like before. Real love. The kind of love that is so deep it hurts. He’s good to me. Sweet and giving. Listens to me when I’m upset. I’ve told him everything about me and he still sticks around.”
A flash of anger glimmers in her blue eyes. She knows. How could she not? I stare at him every Sunday as he preaches the gospel. With hearts in my eyes as she says.
“I know you’re angry and I’m so sorry. I wasn’t seeking it out. I’m not some magnet for older men. He isn’t a pervert. We’re good together.” An ugly sob rips from me and she squeezes my hand. “Mom, please don’t be upset with me. Please.”
A worker rushes over to us and offers a box of tissues. I hold it out to my mother so she can take some and then I set the box in my lap. Both of us dab at our tears.
“I learned a lot after Sean. I’d learned what it felt like to be used. To be someone’s plaything. The consequences gave me Mikey. And then Mikey died. I was so devastated. It forced me to grow up. I watch the girls at school every day and I’m not like them. I feel like I aged ten years after the Sean fiasco…”
“You named the baby?”
Hot tears roll down my cheeks and I nod. I realize I kept this, along with many other sad parts of me locked tight inside me. Easton is the only one who knows everything.
“Oh, baby,” she cries out as she kisses my hand. “I’m so sorry. I knew you were upset but I had no idea you named him. That you still carried all that grief. I thought you were still hung up on Sean.”
“Sean was a jerk,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s Mikey who breaks my heart every day. And then…”
“Easton,” we both say in unison.
“Please don’t be mad,” I beg.
Her frown mars her pretty face. “He should know better.”
“I’m not an itch to be scratched or some mid-life crisis, Mom. We have a connection. From the very get-go. He peels apart my layers and finds the real me.” I sniffle and blow my nose. “I’m happy. He helped me find my happiness.”
My mother smiles, the stormy expression still swirling in her blue eyes. “I know. I knew something had brought my little girl back to me. I thought it was the church. I didn’t realize it was the preacher. The signs were there…” she trails off. “I don’t know what to do. You’re so young. He’s…He’s…”
“Almost forty. I know. I’ll be legal soon though. And, Mom, you don’t have to do anything. When we’re together, age isn’t even an issue. We’re happy.” I plead with my eyes. “I’ve made some pretty bad judgment calls this past year but you have to trust me. Easton is the real deal.”
Her lips purse together. “Invite him to dinner.”
I gape at her. “W-What? Why?”
“If he’s special to you and you love him, I deserve to ask him some questions about his intentions. It’s the only way I can accept this. I need to see for myself,” she says, her tone serious.
“Okay…” I pull out my phone and smile at the last text he left me while I was talking to Mom.
Preach: You make me happier.
Me: Can you meet me at Moon Wok for dinner?
Pre
ach: I’d love to. Might have to figure out a way to ditch my friend though.
Me: Bring your friend…Mom knows.
The three dots move and then stop. Then move again.
Preach: Everything’s going to be okay, Lace. I promise.
Tears well in my eyes.
Me: I think it will be.
Mom is quiet for the rest of the pedicure. I can tell she’s deep in thought which scares me a little. But she’s not yelling which is a plus. We arrive at Moon Wok and she starts inside. Someone grabs my elbow and drags me away from the door. I spin around in shock.
“I thought that was you.”
I freeze in horror. How did he get out of prison? My knees buckle and Sean Polk catches me before I hit the pavement. He looks the same. Styled blonde hair. Crisp polo shirt and khakis. Fancy and smug.
I’m going to be sick.
“Lacy,” he murmurs, his voice like nails on a chalkboard. All it does is remind me of Mikey. My loss. I don’t miss Sean at all. He used me and I hate him.
“Let me go,” I choke out.
His grip tightens.
“Lacy!” my mom cries out my name and then she’s rushing over to us. She shoves at him but his grip on my bicep is too tight for her to wrench us apart.
Heavy footsteps stomp up behind me and then a tattooed arm reaches past me to snag Sean by his throat. It shocks him enough that he lets me go. Easton continues storming away with Sean in his grip until he slams him up against the wall.
“You. Are. Not. Allowed. To. Touch. Her,” he seethes, his shoulders heaving with rage.
“Easton, man,” a familiar voice bellows. “Let him go. Now.”
Mom wraps me up in a hug and shoots daggers with her eyes at Sean. With a growl, Easton releases Sean and takes a step back.
“Leave,” he snarls. “Now.”
Sean steals one more glance at me before he storms off down the sidewalk away from us. As soon as he’s gone, Easton turns and all but plucks me from my mom’s arms.
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” His body ripples with fury.
“Why is he out of jail?” I cry out.
Mr. Alexander, our attorney—I still haven’t figured out why he’s here—grumbles. “I’m about to find out.” And then he’s on the phone stalking away.
