Page 41 of Next Level
She giggles. “I like that—”
I cut her off as I slowly slip inside her, wanting to savor the feeling. She draws out, “Fuuuuck yes.”
“Fuck yes. My Blossom. Fuck yes,” I mumble before taking her mouth and beginning my assault on her body again.
THE RIDE HOME
“Pops. You like this one, don’t you?” Sam says, smiling as we both watch Cherry walk into the airport.
“Yes, Punkin, I think I do,” I reply softly.
My heart aches at seeing her leave. I don’t even know where in San Francisco she lives.
When I feel Sam’s eyes on me, I glance at her and ask, “Do you like her?”
“I like her better than Tamara,” she says truthfully.
“What about Tink?” I question, wondering what she thinks of Tink.
Sam shrugs. “Tink is family. I don’t see a future there.” She points to the airport. “Now her. I see the way you look at her. It’s different.”
A car behind us honks, pulling me from my thoughts. Okay, back to reality.
I pull out of the drop-off lane and head toward the exit.
Sam and I fall into silence, giving me time to switch from thinking about Cherry and how I fucked her really good before Sam woke up. I wanted to make sure she was nice and sore, so every time she moved, she’d remember me all the way home.
I called Zoom before we left the hotel too. I planned to call him after Sam fell asleep but got distracted. I needed to give himthe information I had and the name of the guy. He told me that when he comes up with something, he’ll give me a call.
When we’re finally on the highway headed home, not wanting to push too much, but letting her know we need to talk. “Punkin, when you’re ready, we need to talk. I want to know what you didn’t tell the police. They called me this morning and told me the boy’s biological dad was there trying to get information on them.”
When I mentioned their father, she snapped her head toward me.
Fear etched across her face.
“What?”
“Will he try to take me?” she says, panicked.
“No.” I look over, giving her my eyes so she can see I mean it. “No. No one will be taking you again. I’ll make sure of it.”
She looks straight ahead at the traffic.
Changing my voice, I say softly, “Why don’t you tell me what happened again, but this time don’t leave anything out.”
Sam takes a few deep breaths, and I train my focus on driving, not looking at her, giving her the time and some privacy to revisit what happened to her.
She begins telling me the story, and it matches the one she gave the cops. I keep quiet, giving her a head nod here and there, letting her know I’m listening, but keeping my eyes straight ahead, watching the road.
When she got to the part about her thinking it had to do with their biological parents, she turned in her seat, facing me.
“It did have to do with their parents. But I guess it had to do with either you or Grandpa. I don’t know about what, but they kept saying, ‘The Amato men and an eye for an eye.’” She pauses for a minute, but when I don’t say anything, she continues, “I really don’t think it had to do with the Royal Bastards becausethey just kept saying the Amato men and didn’t mention anything about the club.”
This has me looking over at her.
I ask, “Did they mention the mother’s name?”
She shakes her head.
