Page 44 of Long Time Coming

Images flash as my orgasm builds.

Hard nipples pushed against wet and see-through fabric.

Faster.

There was no hiding. She wanted me to see her. She wanted me.

Harder.

I could have slipped right between her legs and buried myself deep in my desires for her. “Fuck,” I groan, beginning to ache for release. I pump and thrust, imagining it’s her I’m fucking instead.

She came with my fingers poised at her entrance. My touch was so potent that she couldn’t hold on any longer. Fuck, that’s sexy. The feel of her trembling over my hand, her body pulsing because of how my touch is an aphrodisiac.And a mindfuck.

Jerking becomes erratic with my thoughts. I should have fucked her . . .

“Oh fuck.” My orgasm hits sideways, sending the back of my head to dig into the pillow in response. I come so hard that I lose myself in the darkness and the stars, the fireworks and her face. I moan as the last of my release escapes, and then my body lies in recovery. Arms limp at my sides, my legs are lifeless.

My breathing settles after I let the images go and return to reality. Opening my eyes again, I shift my arm across my forehead, resting it there, and stare at the ceiling. It’s not the first time I’ve masturbated in this room. It was a regular occurrence back in high school, but I’ve been out of practice since. No need when I could get a woman just by saying hello to her. But there’s something about Pris . . .Shit.I’m in so much trouble.

I don’t know when emotions started factoring into the equation, but it’s good to feel something again. She did that.

Fuck.

Sitting up, I know I can’t leave with how we left it. I flip off the covers and rush to the bathroom. Being as quiet as I can, I move across the hall and shut the door. There’s not much time, so the shower is cold because I can’t wait for it to heat up. I dry off and slip on my New York clothes, already missing the feel of the jeans and the soft cotton against my skin.

After rushing through getting dressed, I walk down the stairs, keeping my shoes from echoing against the hardwoods. I don’t quite reach the front door when someone says, “You don’t have to sneak around, Tagger.” My mom sits at the table with a glass of water in front of her.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, I can’t sleep.” Her hand covers her chest over her heart. “I’m going to miss you and Beckett so much.”

“I miss you all the time. I know he will, too.” I check the time on my watch before realizing how this must look. Shit. I hate that my patience has slipped when I should be here for my mom. “You can come visit. Anytime. First class.”

“You know your dad is hard to get to travel. Then you put him in a big city, and he’s a fish out of water.”

“Then you come.” I kneel in front of her. Covering her hand resting on the table with mine, I say, “Whenever you want, you just let me know. Okay?”

“You’re a good son, Tagger. Don’t let the world change who you are on the inside.” It’s a hope because she knows I’ve already changed, but being back this week was a good reminder. “Now you better get going, or you’ll miss the opportunity.”

I stand. “How do you know I’m going somewhere?”

She stands and rests her hand on my cheek. “Because I saw how you looked at her.” She nods to the door. “Now go so you don’t miss your flight later.”

One more second won’t keep me from my mission. I embrace her and whisper, “Thanks, Mom.”

With her voice not much louder than a mouse, she says, “She’s lovely.”

She is lovely.

I take off in the truck, driving too fast to be legal and hoping I don’t run into Deputy Dirk again. He won’t let me off twice in one night, especially when I don’t have Pris in the car to soften the blow.Fuck it.I only have this one chance to make it right.

I’m surprised to see headlights on this deserted part of the road. Farmers rise before dawn, but it’s four thirty in the morning, and I know they also value sleep.

They’re a little blinding as they near, but then they’re lowered from the brightest setting. I look at the truck when it passes, my eyes locked on the driver’s. The familiar blues unmistakable even at speeds over sixty miles an hour. Then my brain kicks in.

Oh shit.

I slam on my brakes and look over my shoulder. The other truck has stopped, so I do a U-turn and head back in that direction, stopping with twenty or so feet apart. I jump out of the truck to see Pris standing in the limelight of her headlights.

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