Chapter 31 – Skylar
SKYLAR
Zoey releases a heavy yawn, her head heavy on Aston’s shoulder as he carries her upstairs and into the bathroom.
“No. I want Skylar to do it,” she whines. He sets her down in front of the sink and throws me a questioning look.
“I’ve got her,” I tell him and enter the bathroom.
Something flickers across his features, and I close the door to give us privacy.
“Did you have fun?” I ask her as we get her into pajamas.
“So much fun. The babies were so cute.”
“They were. What was your favorite cake?”
“The chocolate one,” she tells me as she brushes her teeth, and I grab the brush to work on her long hair. She’s loaded with tangles, and this is why I keep my hair shoulder length. I try to be as gentle as possible, feeling bad every time she winces.
“I liked that one too.”
She spits into the sink and washes out her mouth. “Are you my stepmom now?”
Oh shit. That pulls me up short. I’m not sure why I didn’t expect her to ask that.
Aston had told her that we were special friends who wore rings for each other, but today was our wedding party.
I know Aston talked to her about some of that this morning, but clearly, they didn’t address this part. Or she simply didn’t ask until now.
“Your dad and I…” I stop. I honestly don’t know what to say. “Do you want a stepmom?”
“I want my mom.”
I run my hand down her hair and meet her eyes in the mirror. “I know, sweetie.” I kiss the top of her head and set the brush down. “I know you do.”
“But she and my dad weren’t married when she died.”
“No. They weren’t.”
“And you’re married to him now. That’s what everyone was saying today.”
I pick her up and put her on the counter of the sink so we can talk face-to-face. “Yes, your daddy and I are married. But it’s a different kind of marriage. We care a lot about each other and are helping each other. That’s what our marriage is.
“Does that make you my stepmom like it does in the stories?”
“In a way, I guess it does. But more than that, I’m your special friend. Your bestie for life.”
She stares long and hard up at me. “Do you not want to be my stepmom?”
Jesus. Way to get heavy on me after an already heavy day.
“I’d like to be whatever you want me to be.
I’d never want you to think I’m trying to replace your mom, though.
That’s not something I could ever do. But I love being with you, and if that’s what you want to call me…
” I stop. Shit. But looking at her… “If you want me to be your stepmom, I’m okay with that. If you don’t, that’s fine too.”
“I’d like you to be.”
A tingly warmth curls through my veins, and my eyes immediately glass over.
I bring her into my arms and hug her fiercely.
I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know where any of us are going or what’s next.
This could all fall apart tomorrow. But no matter what happens or doesn’t happen between Aston and me, she’ll always have me.
“Then that’s what I’ll be.” I kiss her head again and pull back.
“Why are you crying?”
I laugh lightly and wipe at my cheeks. “They’re happy tears. I get emotional easily these days.”
She shrugs. “Okay.” And just like that, all the heaviness is gone. If only adults were as easy as kids. She hops off the counter and opens the door. “Daddy! I’m ready for bed, and Skylar is my new stepmom.”
He comes out of his room wearing his standard white T-shirt and sweatpants, and yeah, that’s a look that will never get old. Except now his eyebrows are at his hairline.
“Oh. Okay. Um. Great. All brushed and ready?” He throws me a look, and I give him one in return that says I’ll tell him later, and he takes Zoey into his arms and carries her into her room.
“Good night, Skylar.”
“Night, Zoey.”
I head down into my room to get myself ready for bed. A few minutes later, Aston is behind me at the sink, his eyes meeting mine in the reflection of the mirror.
“Stepmom?”
I give him a nervous look. “She asked if that’s what I was, and I told her if that’s what she wanted me to be, I would. I don’t know. Should I not have said that? Maybe I should have brought you in there with me?”
A smile splits his lips. One that looks like he’s trying and failing to contain.
“I mean, I’m not complaining about it. But are you okay with it?
I know she put you on the spot. When I talked to her this morning about the wedding party stuff, I didn’t think about titles or designations like that.
I just went over what the party was and what she might hear. ”
I chew on the corner of my bottom lip. “I’m okay with it.”
“Yeah?”
He looks at me with the whole world in his eyes, so hot and yet so boyish, I could die. “Yeah.”
In a flash, he spins me around, captures my face in his hands, and kisses me.
It’s a merciless, vicious storm. One I’m only too happy to get swept away in.
It’s lips and breath. It’s sweet and smoldering.
Riled with passion and filled with need.
My hands loop around his neck as I lift myself up onto the balls of my feet so I can fully kiss him back.
But his hands aren’t happy resting in one place.
They’re hungry and excited as they shamelessly explore.
The zipper at the back of my dress plunges down my back, the shoulders slipping away. My fingers trickle up into the back of his hair, and I play with the soft strands before I slide down his back, feeling his strong muscles bunch and move.
I can’t get enough of him. I’m starting to feel that way all the time.
Every touch, every look, every teasing or even serious word.
I know now it was like this even before I mistakenly crawled into his bed.
He was worming himself into places I told myself I had shut off.
Places I didn’t want any man to enter. At least not this soon.
And not him. I didn’t want it to be him.
But now I know he was always going to happen. It was always going to be him. I can’t imagine it being anyone else. And that scares me to the point of having me pull back. His eyes are smoky, and a thousand goose bumps cover my skin from just this one look alone.
We stare at each other for a very long moment before we both lose our patience and our minds and give in to this… tension. I jump up into him, and he catches me reflexively, our mouths devouring and our tongues swirling and thrashing. I moan into him, my nails digging into his shoulder blades.
He sets me on the counter and rips my dress off my arms where it dangled.
It pools at my waist, but that’s not good enough for him.
He shifts me around and tears it out from under me, letting it fall to the floor before he kicks it aside.
I attack his shirt with equal fervor, wanting to see him, to feel him.
And he doesn’t disappoint. His skin is smooth and warm and soft over hard, delicious muscles.
No one has ever made me this wild before. Has ever undone me to my core. But that’s Aston Hughes. He has me forever undone. His pants hit the floor, and then he’s jerking me back off the counter, flipping me around, and pressing my chest down against the cold stone.
I whimper and squirm, but he holds me still with a firm hand on the center of my back. “Stay still,” he commands, and holy shit. That voice. I’ll do anything he asks if he uses that voice with me.
He kisses a trail down my spine heading toward my ass.
His teeth capture the thin string of my thong and pull it down over my ass and thighs, where he releases it so it can meet the floor and leave me exposed to him.
Except that’s not where it ends. My wrists are stretched behind my back and bound together with my thong.
Holy shit!
I arch up, searching the mirror and finding him there, watching me as he ties me up, leaving me completely vulnerable to him.
I open my lips to say… something, only to close them at his expression.
It’s rough and animalistic, yes, but the tender, adoring note beneath the surface tells me he’ll take care of me.
That he’ll push me, but he’ll hold my hand as we explore a bit of the dark side together.
With that I relax, and a smile blooms on his lips. Once he has me bound, he pets my hair and cheek. “My beautiful swan, you make me so proud. You’re doing such a good job for me.”
It makes me preen, something warm and delicious curling around my bones and muscles.
His hands trail down my back, making sure my lower belly isn’t on the counter but floating in the open air, and then smack.
It startles a gasp from my lips and widens my eyes.
He watches me watch his hand come down against my skin.
Smack. I hear it a second before I feel the sting.
It’s not much. It doesn’t burn or make me cry out.
It’s not punishing.
It’s sensual. Erotic. And when he smacks my pussy from behind, my wetness leaks out. All around my ass, the junction where my thighs meet my cheeks, the seam of my pussy, my clit. He spares no spot, and I rock and grind at nothing, anxious and needy for contact. For more.
I’ve had fantasies about something like this. About being tied up and spanked to the point of mindless lust. He’s spinning me up, and I shamelessly crave it. And trust it because I trust him.
After more spanks than I can count, his mouth is there, licking up my inner thighs and kissing the tingly sting from my skin. He parts my ass cheeks, and I squeak as his tongue swirls around my forbidden hole.
But before I can argue or even moan and beg for more, he’s eating my pussy like a man starved.
He groans into me, his grip on my ass tightening as he splits me open wide and devours me.
All I can do is lie here and take it. My arms bound behind me, my tits squished against the stone, and he’s controlling me with my legs spread and my pussy open to him.
It’s so much and it both scares and thrills me like nothing has before.