Page 29 of Until Posey

I shrugged as we stepped into the living room. “So, tell me what you can, and I’ll bore you to death with all the projects at work I’ve been finishing up.”

“Your job is way cooler than mine,” she muttered, taking a seat on the couch before tucking her feet under her. Fuck, she even fit comfortably in my home. Like she’d always been here with me. “Your family restores classic cars for a living.”

Warmth filled my cheeks, along with the center of my chest. We took pride in our work. Our dad showed us what hard work and a job well done could create. Also, the fun that could be had by turning a wrench. “Some days are pretty hard, though, especially where Oldsmobiles are concerned.” I don’t know why I showed her the scar on the palm of my hand. I’d been eighteen and cocksure. I’d done enough work with my dad; I thought I could take apart the exhaust system on a sixty-seven Oldsmobile by myself. Almost lost the ability to use my left hand. I’d never forget the horror on my mother’s face, or the way Ireland sobbed while clinging to me. “That took twenty-seven stitches to close and three months of physical therapy to fix. There are some days I still can’t hold a wrench all too well.” It was another reason I went into painting cars.

Posey took my hand between hers, then traced the thin line with the tip of her finger. The shock of electricity went straight up my arm into my groin. My dick throbbed, thickening behind the fly of my jeans. Swallowing hard, I watched as she examined the mark, almost as if she could see an image of that day out in the field where I’d been working. “What did you cut it on?”

“I wasn’t sure for the longest time,” I said, watching her as she continued to hold my hand. “Then one day my dad took me back to where the car was and told me to show him where I’d been working. We jacked that son of a bitch up and there, where I couldn’t see, was a jagged piece of frame. Someone had gotten into a wreck with the car or ran over something and tore a chunk out of the chassis. Never would have known it was there either had I not cut my hand open.”

Posey released my hand and lifted the hem of her skirt, exposing her tanned skin to my gaze. I felt like an untried boy seeing his first boob. Anticipation filled me until I saw the deep, angry white scar on her skin and several smaller pucker marks. “This came from shrapnel.”

Okay, she couldn’t leave that statement open ended on me. “Well, don’t leave me hanging. How did you get shrapnel in your leg?”

“Foster care when I was sixteen,” she said, but her tone was so matter of fact, it made my heart ache for her. Like being injured at a home that should have kept her safe happened all the time, when it shouldn’t.

“What the fuck?” Like her, I ran my fingertips across the scar, hissing at how thick the mark truly was, but also curious how far down it went or what caused the other spots. “Please tell me whatever happened, the foster home lost their license.”

She nodded. “Oh, they did. What’s worse, they had a boy in the house who was secretly building a manifesto for why he was about to commit murder, and he had a kill list for the high school he attended. From what I remember, he wanted to be more famous than that kid at Parkland.”

I shivered in revolt. “So, this scar was because...”

“He was making pipe bombs and let’s just say, he wasn’t too smart about it.” She frowned. “Guess it was a good thing it blew in the garage, not the school. Bad, because I got hit with the shrapnel.”

“What happened to him?” I had to know if there was a piece of shit kid out there. I needed to pay a visit to.

“Died,” she said, her tone somber. “It blew up and out. I’d been on the way to tell him dinner was ready and...” She mimed the explosion and my chest clenched. “They removed me that night—all of us were, and my social worker—Darcy, brought me home with her after I got out of the hospital.”

“Jes-us, fuck,” I said, pulling her into my arms. “I’m so fucking sorry, Posey.”

“It was a long time ago,” she murmured into the crook of my neck. “Plus, if I never left that house, I don’t think my mom, Darcy, would have ever adopted me.”

I always knew we had a good life. Our parents loved all four of us with such a single-mindedness. Our parents were hard workers, and they also played just as rough. I couldn’t imagine a day in my life without them until they passed away, leaving us to raise Jackson. To know Posey didn’t have a family until she was adopted... That hurt my soul for her. Everyone should know the love of their parents.

“What’s your mom like?” I didn’t want to let her go. A slight tremor filled me at the thought of how close she came to losing her life all because of some dickhead with a vendetta.

“The best person I’ve ever known.” Posey smiled. “She brought me into her home after one of the worst experiences of my life and promised I’d never have to leave her if I didn’t want to.”

“That’s the best kind of mom to have.”

“She’s the reason I’m a social worker.” She grinned. Her eyes sparkled with warmth and love.

I couldn’t tell you if it was the lighting or the moment, but I kissed her. The second my lips met hers, everything else didn’t matter. Her soft little sigh as she opened to me, snatched me up by the balls. I ravished her. Feasted on her mouth as she straddled my lap. Her soft mewling combined with the rock of her hips, and I swore I’d combust right there on the couch. I palmed her ass, pulling her flush to me, then moaned when her perfect little pussy rubbed my crotch. My dick jerked. My heart pounded. Everything about this moment was perfect.

This attraction wasn’t one sided. She wanted me too. With each swipe of her tongue across mine, I was sinking into her. If she drowned me with pleasure and happiness, so be it. I’d die a content man.

It was then I also noticed how petite she really was compared to me. This lithe, beautiful woman with perfect tits and a round ass fit in the palms of my hands. She was perfect for me in every way and with one kiss, I’d realized I’d do anything she wanted, including telling her the truth about Destiny, just not yet. Not until I was sure baby girl would be safe, should she leave my home.

“Hunter...” she murmured, and I wanted to hear my name in that keen whimper all the time. “What are we doing?”

“Getting to know each other,” I muttered, my lips moving over hers before I kissed her again. “This is the best way to do it, too.”

She groaned, wrapping her arms around my neck, pushing my face lower, down her neck and to the hollow spot between her collarbones. She writhed above me, running her fingernails over my scalp. I shivered in arousal as pleasure twisted my gut. Tugging on the ties of her dress was the equivalent of opening a present on Christmas morning. I was eager, excited to see what lay under all the fancy wrappings and bows. Anticipation shot through my veins, lighting me up from the inside out. I’d take this as far as Posey wanted, even if it meant ending before we got to the good part.

As the sash slipped free, a soft, whimpered cry filled the room. Both of us stilled. Our soft pants mingled together as we waited. Another cry followed the first, and I closed my eyes, gathering myself. Destiny was awake and not happy. Pressing my forehead against Posey’s, I let out a shaky breath. “I should go see what’s wrong. Stay here, yeah?”

Posey swallowed hard and nodded, slipping off my lap and taking all her comforting warmth with her. “Sure. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Walking away was the hardest thing I’d ever done, but Destiny needed me. I climbed the stairs, adjusting my hard dick as I went. When I stepped into Destiny’s nursery, I frowned. Another dirty diaper. Poor thing. I lifted her out of the bassinet and took her to the changing table. Thankfully, this time, there wasn’t a mess all the way up her back, just around her legs. Nothing a couple of butt wipes couldn’t cleanup and a fresh set of jammies couldn’t fix.

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