I lean in close, my breath grazing his ear. "You're mean," I murmur, voice barely above a whisper as I swallow down the whimper threatening to escape-though from the way his smirk deepens, I know he hears it.
That devilish grin spreads across his fa...
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I set my bag down gently, then lean over Emilianna's stroller. She's already drifting, soft breaths against the plush blanket I tuck around her tiny frame. My beautiful little girl. I press a kiss to her cheek, breathing her in her scent a soft mix of warm milk, baby lotion, a scent that grounds me no matter how chaotic the world gets.
I check out the luxurious bathroom the lighting is unmatched and glamorous. I look in the mirror my hairs in a bun it's messy and Emilianna and I are in matching sweatsuit sets.
Colten trails behind me, his presence quiet but unmistakable. I see him in the mirror his eyes on me, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth like he's holding back.
He reaches for the hem of my hoodie.
"Can I?" he asks, already lifting it over my head. I let him. I've got a tube top on it's long and fits me perfectly.
"You look stunning in pink," he murmurs, voice low, lips brushing the curve of my neck. "But I've always loved you bare."
I exhale, half a laugh in my throat. He's always known how to thread a compliment with heat.
"We've got time to kill," he says, kissing just beneath my jaw.
I smirk, leaning back slightly. "See, that's why we can never fuck," I say, voice dry. "You act like I'm your on-call prostitute."
He stills.
For a moment, silence stretches between us filled with history, tension, a thousand things unsaid. But he doesn't pull away. And neither do I.
He exhales through his nose, nostrils flaring slightly. Then, with no warning, his hands grip my waist and he lifts me effortless onto the counter behind me. The cold marble hits the back of my thighs, but all I feel is him.
He leans in close, lips brushing my ear, voice low, deep, and dark. "You're the beautiful girl I get to fuck every once in a while."
The words shouldn't make me melt but they do. Because there's something dangerously honest about it. Something possessive in the way he says "mine" without even saying the word. I fell trap to it I always do. As a girl without a father or a mother I got doubled damaged.
"I want eat you out." He mutters I bite my lip he lifts me on the counter his thick muscles are flexed he pries my thighs open soaking my bottom lip in his mouth he kisses down my neck nibbling and kissing.
Then he sinks to his knees.
God.
"Colten," I whisper again, but it's weak. Unconvincing.
Because I want this God, I want this even if my mind is screaming it's the worst idea I've had all week.
I don't even have time to thank him not with words. Not when his hands are already sliding up my thighs, spreading them apart like I belong open for him. He stand back up sliding my pink sweats off me the cold tile is under my thighs.
