Page 88 of Afterglow
My sisters chime in altogether.
“Sorry.”
“Yeah, we’re really sorry.”
One hand smooths over Bea’s back.
“I get it,” my girlfriend replies. “I have an overprotective brother, too. I just happen to be outrageously in love with yours. I promise I have the best of intentions.”
Greer opens her mouth, surely to say something inappropriate, and I stop her.
“By the way, we’re staying at a hotel for this weekend before I head out to Calgary.”
If flabbergasted had a sound, this was it.
“Well!” Mom claps her hands together, silencing the protest. “Who’s ready for pie?”
The pumpkin and cherry pies get cleaned out before we can fight over the last slices, and when the kids revolt about going to bed, their respective sets of parents take them upstairs, leaving Bea and I to clear the table while my mother packs the leftovers in the kitchen.
“I heard what you said,” she murmurs.
My eyebrow perks.
“I know I shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but I was worried. I don’t think anyone’s stood up for me like that.”
“I surprised myself. I’ve never even stood up to him, either.”
“I’m so proud of you.” She leaves her stack of plates onto the one in my hand, strokes up my flexed forearm with a hum, and uses my shoulders to lift herself to the tips of her toes, pulling my face toward her to place a kiss on my cheek. A blush rises to meether lips in a hot wave. Bea releases a breathy sigh by my ear, and my cock stirs. The bastard.
“When you blush like this…God, Fletcher. It makes me so wet.”
I swallow.
“Can’t wait to get to the hotel so I can suck your perfect cock.”
“Shit.” I discard the plates on the table and grasp her hand, pulling her toward the kitchen. “I have an idea.”
My mom’s inattention allows us to sneak past her and into the renovated, walk-in pantry.
“In here?” Bea gapes, backing herself into some wooden shelves. “You’re turning out to be such a slut.”
I pin her on the spot, stretching her hands to the high shelf above her head. She arches, pushing her tits toward me. A gritty groan climbs the column of my neck. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” My lips drop to graze her jaw before gripping her thighs and sliding her up, hooking both knees over my hips. “I’m so hard I could cry, Bea.”
One harsh, denim-covered thrust creates an intolerable friction. The glass jars rattle behind us.
“Dying to be inside you. Dying to see how wet you are.” Her bottom lip mutes a whimper when I squeeze one breast, thumbing over a hardened nipple. “You’ll be quiet for me, won’t you?”
She shakes her head. “Let ‘em hear, Fletcher. I want them to know how well-fucked you keep me.”
Chapter 28
Climb Into My Skin and Stay There
Behraz
March
Time with Fletchernever feels like enough.
