Page 30 of Deliverance

“Hey, don’t hide from me. I was just making you breakfast, baby. Next time, I’ll stay in bed with you for as long as you want, okay?”

Those beautiful fucking blue eyes come back to me, and she bites her lower lip softly before nodding. I can’t help but feel infinitely jealous of her perfect teeth sinking intomylip. So, I stake my claim.

Pressing my lips to hers, I nip at her lip, freeing it from her hold before sucking it into my mouth. My tongue runs over it to soothe the sting before I’m biting and pulling on her again. She moans into my mouth, her arms winding around my neck as I lift her onto the island. I’m only an inch or so taller than her, so she has to bend down significantly to meet my lips, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

I feel her legs wrap around me, grinding her pussy against me as her fingers tangle in my hair before moving down to my breasts. Her hands slip underneath my oversized tee before palming one of my breasts in her hands. She loves playing with my tits almost as much as I love her playing with them.

“Maybe we should go back to bed now,” Bridgette smiles against me, and I’m ready to carry her featherlight ass to bed until we hear the front door opening.

Brad left to go home with Rain last night and it’s only seven in the morning. There is no way that motherfucker is back yet, which can only mean one thing. Bridgette and I break apart, our eyes widening before we leap away from each other. I turn to face the stove and Bridgette perches herself on the edge of the counter when my mother and her father walk in.

“Daddy!” she says as she hops down and hurries over to him. “You’re home early.”

He greets her with a hug and a kiss to the cheek. “Had to cut the honeymoon short.”

“That’s an understatement,” my mother bites.

Harry shoots her a look that has her cowering before his eyes set on me.

“Hello, Margret.”

“Hello, Mr. Brenton.” I nod as I slice the frittata into pieces.

“Oh please, none of that. We’re family now. You can call me Harry or Dad if you’d like.”

A sharp pang followed by a rolling of my stomach hits me at his words, and it takes everything in me not to sneer at him.

“Harry it is,” I respond.

He purses his lips like he doesn’t like the choice I made before moving towards the hallway, a briefcase in hand.

“I need to make some calls. No one disturb me. I’ve instructed the chef to return early. He will have dinner ready at six o’clock sharp.”

With that, an office door opens and shuts, the final rule of the house being hammered home. Bridgette’s eyes linger in his direction for a second longer before they come to my mother.

“Calista, how was your trip?” she asks with a polite smile.

“It was wonderful until we got called back here. Apparently there is something that Putnam needs to discuss with him,” she says, a bitterness to her tone.

“Well, Christopher Putnam is the head of the Brethren. He says jump, we say ‘yes master,’” I snark as I carry two plates to the kitchen island.

My mother purses her lips, or at least she tries to. The woman has had so much work done to her face I don’t think she has much, if any, function left in it.

“Don’t be a smartass, Margret,” she scolds.

“It’s Maggie,” I huff.

“No, trust me. It’s Margret. I was there, I signed the birth certificate. I will not tolerate you butchering the beautiful name I hand selected for you.”

I roll my eyes as I sit down and stab a piece of egg harder than I need to before popping it into my mouth.

Lifting her sunglasses up onto her forehead, she crosses her arms as she looks at me.

“Have you been behaving? Getting into trouble?” She tests before turning to Bridgette. “You’re a good girl. Has my daughter been a bother?”

I scoff as Bridgette answers.

“She’s a little snarky, but she’s been fine.”

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