Page 147 of Yearn
“Oh God.” She rewarded me with a brutal thrust downward, taking me to the base.
I cried out like my chest had been cut open.
She smiled like she’d made the incision herself.
OH FUCK!!
My toes curled.
The room narrowed to a pinpoint of light that pulsed with each shove of her hips.
Then, the ceiling above us loudly creaked, and Scott’s coughing sounded.
She stopped.
Another creak came, and the sound cracked the air like a gavel. Her whole body startled—pussy clenching hard, breath snagging, spine bracing. The panic clench punched a curse out of me. My cock throbbed inside her in helpless defiance, an animal baring its teeth at a door.
“Don’t stop.”
She leaned close and whispered, “I. . .think Scott is up.”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
Then, a loud thump happened in the living room.
She widened her eyes.
Maybe I didn’t give him enough of the sedative.
The calculation was ugly and instant—dosage, half-life, variable tolerance—then gone, burned away by the reality of her shaking above me.
I wanted him silent, gone, erased from any room where her breath sounded like this.
Scott’s ragged coughing came next, echoing through the floorboards, each hack like a threat reminding me he still existed above us.
Why couldn’t he have just stayed asleep? Why must he always ruin the moment?
His stumbling footsteps followed, uneven and clumsy, the sedatives dragging him through the house like a drunk ghost.
Fuck him.
The sound only made me harder. I had her here while he wheezed useless upstairs. My cock twitched inside her, swollen and slick, desperate to push deeper, to brand her while he was too weak to stop it.
Teyonah attempted to get off me.
“No.” I ground my hips up, letting her feel the sharp throb of me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Do you hear that?”
“Yeah. Let his coughing be the soundtrack to our fucking—”
“Dominic—”
“I don’t care about him or his feelings.”
“It’s not about his feelings. It’s about him using us being together as another weapon to blast against me and take my kids—”
“We’ll stop him—”
