Page 49 of Yearn
“After the story and you’ve tucked them in bed,” I licked my lips. “Come back and tuckmein bed too.”
Her throat worked. For a heartbeat I saw the fight in her—the mother, the woman, the rules, the need. Then she whispered, “Fuck.”
“Mommy? Are you okay?! J, Mommy is gone! She left!” The shout hit from upstairs, Oliver’s small voice cutting through the basement ceiling.
Oh God.
Teyonah froze in my arms. My erection was straining, angry and slick, but the sound of her boy’s voice cracked the air like a whip. Her eyes went wide, panic and heat warring inside them.
I didn’t move.
Couldn’t.
The predator in me wanted to pull her closer, cover her mouth with mine, and finish what we’d started. But the man—the one who wanted her whole, safe, and smiling—knew better.
She swallowed, then lifted her chin toward the stairs. “Oliver! I’m down in the basement with Dominic! I’ll be right back! Go to your room and I’ll read to you!”
The words made something savage stir inside me. She’d said my name. Told her son exactly where she was. Claimed being here with me like it wasn’t shameful, like it was natural. My cock twitched. Precum dripped out for her.
Silence.
Then Oliver’s voice rang again, calmer now. “Okay, Mommy! Hi, Dom!”
I was so hard it was difficult to speak coherent words, but somehow I did. “Hey, Oliver! Be good for your Mommy and wait for her in your room!”
“Night, Dom!”
“Night!”
His little feet pattered across the ceiling, the quick rhythm of a boy running back to his room. Each thump grew lighter, fainter, until the upstairs quieted.
Teyonah exhaled, her shoulders dropping with relief.
But me?
Relief never came.
The second his footsteps faded upstairs, the silence pressed hotter, harder. My body hadn’t cooled—it had ignited.
She stayed in my arms even after calling my name, and that choice was epinephrine to my bloodstream—accelerant and shock all at once, spiking my vitals, driving my obsession into cardiac arrest.
The danger of us getting caught hadn’t stopped me.
It had made me hornier.
I was burning, every vein hot, chest rising and falling too hard. I stared at her, jaw tight, my length jerking against the space between us. She had no idea what that did to me—her choosing to stay here, to keep her body against mine even after her son had called.
“You told him where you were,” My voice went low and dangerous. “With me.”
Her lips parted, eyes flashing heat and fear.
And I knew it then—no matter how fast her boy’s feet ran upstairs, she wasn’t running.
Not from me.
Not yet.
She tried to back away. “So. . .this got out of hand and I should go.”
