4. Heath
HEATH
The bedroom door clicks shut behind me, and I find Fiona, her mother, bent over an open suitcase, tossing in clothes like she's packing for a week-long trip.
"Heading out of town again?" I ask.
She doesn't even look up. "Yeah. Just for the night." A pause. Then, like she's just remembering I exist, she adds, "You know how it is."
I do. Too well.
Her fingers flick through the hangers in the closet, pulling out a dress that's too short, too tight. "Same guy?"
She laughs, sharp and bright. "No. God, no." A beat. Then, like she's just thought of it, she turns, her eyes flicking over me with that same practiced smile. "When are you going to see someone? You're not getting any younger, Heath."
The words land like a punch, but I don't react. Just lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Don't want to just meet anyone."
She snorts. "Then you'll never meet anyone." The zipper on her suitcase hisses as she yanks it shut. "You've got to put yourself out there. Can't expect love to just fall into your lap."
Love. The word tastes like ash.
I don't answer. Just watch as she grabs her bag, her heels clicking against the hardwood. She pauses at the door, her fingers tapping against the frame. "You're good with Hallie, right? She's not giving you any trouble?"
My fingers dig into my biceps. "She doesn't."
A nod. A smile. Then she's gone. I hear the front door slamming shut behind her.
I stand there for a long moment, listening to the hum of the fridge, the distant tick of the clock in the hallway. Then I push off the doorframe and head downstairs.
Hallie's in the living room, curled up on the couch, watching a movie. She doesn't look up when I step in. The light from the window catches the dark waves of her hair, turning them blue-black where the sun hits.
"Did she say goodbye?" My voice cuts through the quiet.
She shakes her head. "Just heard the door."
I move closer, stopping at the edge of the couch.
She still doesn't look at me, but her shoulders tense, just a little.
She changed into a sundress, the straps sliding down her arms. The fabric clings to her chest, and I can see the faint outline of her—full, heavy, the way they've been since last night.
My mouth goes dry.
"You okay?" I ask, because I need to say something, and that's the only thing that I can muster.
She finally looks at me, her sage green eyes sharp. "Why wouldn't I be?"
I exhale through my nose. "Your mom's gone. Again."
A shrug. "She's always gone."
"Does it bother you?"
She snorts, pausing the movie. "Are you asking me about my feelings right now?"
I step around the couch, lowering myself into the armchair across from her. The leather creaks under my weight. "Can't I?"
She doesn't answer. Just watches me, her gaze steady, unreadable. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, until she finally sighs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're not exactly the type to sit around and talk about feelings, Heath."
"No," I agree. "But for you, I will."
She studies me for a long moment, her fingers tracing the edge of the remote. Then, quietly, "Why?"
I lean forward, elbows on my knees. "Because you gave me a key."
Her breath hitches. Just for a second. Then she looks away, her cheeks flushing. "That's not?—"
"It's not what?" I cut in. "Not an invitation? You can talk to me."
She swallows, her throat working. "It's not that simple."
"It is." My voice is low, rough. "You can write a note again if you prefer that."
She doesn't answer. Just stares at her lap, her fingers twisting in the hem of her dress. She shifts, giving me a full view of her cleavage.
I force myself to look away. "You hungry?"
She blinks, caught off guard I changed the subject. "What?"
"Lunch." I stand, rolling my shoulders. "You want something?"
She hesitates, then nods, setting the remote aside. "Yeah. Sure."
I head to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge. The cool air hits my face, a welcome relief. I grab the bread, the deli meat, tomatoes, cheese, and mayo. Behind me, the floor creaks as she follows.
"What are you making?" she asks, leaning against the counter.
I glance at her. "Sandwiches."
She hums, watching as I slice the bread. "You ever think about getting a chef to do that?Maybe you forgot that… you know. You're rich."
I pause, the knife hovering over the loaf. "I wasn't always rich."
She tilts her head. "No?"
"No." I finish the cut, setting the knife down. "Grew up in a trailer park. Dad split when I was eight. Mom worked two jobs. I started working construction when I was sixteen."
She's quiet for a moment. Then, softly, "So how did you get to where you are now?"
The knife scrapes against the cutting board as I slice through the tomato.
"Bought my first property with cash I saved by swinging a hammer.
A rundown duplex in a neighborhood most people wouldn't drive through after dark.
" I stack the slices onto the bread, the juice beading on the red flesh.
"Fixed it up, rented it out, used the profit to buy another. Then another."
Hallie's fingers tap against the counter, her nails clicking against the granite. "That's it? Just... bought rundown places and fixed it?"
I smirk, shaking my head. "Not just. Had to fight for every deal. Bankers who wouldn't take me seriously. Contractors who tried to screw me over. But I learned fast." The mayo lid pops open with a sharp snap.
She steps closer, her hip brushing the counter. "Are you happy now, Heath?"
The question hangs between us, heavy. I turn after loading the sandwiches in the oven, meeting her gaze. Her eyes are wide, curious.
I reach out, my fingers brushing her wrist. She doesn't pull away. "Lately? More than I thought I ever would be. But there's something I still want."
Her breath catches. The air between us crackles, thick with something unspoken. Then she licks her lips, her voice barely a whisper. "What do you want?"
I don't answer. Just lean in, close enough to feel the heat of her skin, to smell the sweet, milky scent of her. My thumb traces the inside of her wrist, slow, deliberate.
Her pulse jumps under my touch.
I want to tell her, want to say… you, I want you, all of you, your body, your milk, your trust, your fucking soul, but the words stick in my throat.
And then the timer on the oven dings, sharp and sudden, shattering the moment.
I take them out and set them on plates. The porcelain clink against the table as I set them down. Hallie slides into the chair across from me, her fingers curling around the edge of the wood.
I take my seat, the chair groaning under my weight. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, broken only by the sound of her chewing. She picks at her sandwich, tearing off small bites, her teeth sinking into the bread with quiet precision.
I watch her, the way her throat works as she swallows, the way her tongue darts out to catch a crumb at the corner of her mouth.
"You're not eating," she says.
I exhale through my nose. "In a bit."
"Why?"
"Because I'm hungry for something else."
Her breath hitches, her fingers stilling on the plate. She doesn't look up, but her cheeks flush, the pink creeping down her neck. The sundress straps slip further down her shoulders, the fabric clinging to the swell of her breasts.
"Can't you wait tonight?" Her voice is quiet, but there's no hesitation in it. Just that same quiet confidence, the one that made me take the key in the first place.
I lean back in my chair, studying her. The way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. The way her chest rises a little too fast, her nipples pressing against the thin fabric of her dress.
"Tonight," I agree. "And I plan to not stop like last night."
The key turns in the lock with a quiet click, the sound swallowed by the dark. My pulse thrums in my throat as I push the door open, the hinges whispering against the silence.
Hallie's asleep on her side, one arm curled under her pillow, the other flung out.
The moonlight spills through the window, painting her skin, turning the black waves of her hair into ink against the sheets.
Her lips are parted, her breath slow and even, but there's a tension in her shoulders, a restlessness in the way her fingers twitch against the mattress.
I step closer, my shoes silent on the carpet. The scent of her hits me first, and my mouth waters.
Her camisole rides up, exposing the soft curve of her waist, the dip of her navel. The fabric clings to her chest, damp in places, the dark circles of her areolas visible through the thin cotton. My cock stiffens, pressing against my zipper.
I reach down, my fingers brushing the hem of her top. She stirs, a soft sound escaping her throat, but she doesn't wake.
Slowly, I peel the fabric up, revealing her inch by inch. The swell of her breasts, full and heavy, the nipples already hard, glistening with pearls of milk. My breath catches.
I toss the camisole aside and kneel beside the bed, my hands cupping her tits, lifting them, testing their weight. They're warm, soft, the skin smooth under my rough palms. I squeeze gently, and a thick bead of cream wells from her left nipple, rolling down the slope of her breast.
Fuck.
I lean in, my tongue flicking out to catch it.
The taste explodes across my taste buds—sweet, nutty, like liquid gold.
I groan, low and deep, and latch on, sucking hard.
Her back arches off the bed, a whimper tearing from her throat, but her eyes stay closed, her body caught between sleep and waking.
"That's it, baby," I murmur against her skin, my voice rough. "Give it to me."
I switch to the other nipple, my fingers rolling the wet one between them, pinching just enough to make her gasp. More milk spills, dripping down her ribs, soaking into the sheets. I chase every drop, my tongue lapping at her skin, my lips sealing around her nipple to suck deeper.
Her hips shift, restless, her thighs pressing together. I can smell her arousal, thick and musky, and it makes my cock ache.
I slide my hand down her stomach, my fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her shorts. She's soaked, her panties drenched, her clit swollen under my touch. I circle it slowly, teasing, and she moans, her legs falling open.
"You like that, don't you?" I growl, nipping at her nipple. "Like me drinking from you while I play with this pretty little cunt."
Her breath hitches, her hips lifting to meet my fingers. I slip two inside her, curling them, pressing against that spot that makes her whimper. She's tight, so fucking tight, her walls clenching around me as I pump in and out.
"Mmm."
"That's it," I murmur, my thumb finding her clit. "Just feel it, baby. Let me make you come."
I suck harder, my fingers working her, my other hand pinching and rolling her nipple. Her body tenses, her back arching, her thighs trembling. I can feel her getting closer, her pussy fluttering around my fingers, her milk flowing faster into my mouth.
"Fuck," I groan. "Come for me, Hallie. Come all over my fingers while I drink you dry."
She shatters with a cry, her body convulsing, her pussy clamping down on my fingers as her orgasm rips through her. I don't stop, my mouth still latched onto her nipple, my fingers still moving inside her, drawing out every last shudder, every last drop of her pleasure.
And when she finally goes limp, her breath ragged, her skin slick with sweat, I pull back, licking my lips, savoring the taste of her.
"Good," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "We're not done yet."
Her shorts come off, peeled down her thighs with a slow drag of fabric that makes my pulse pound.
The scent of her arousal hits me harder now, sweet, musky, intoxicating.
I toss the shorts aside and hook my fingers into the sides of her panties, pulling them down until they're nothing but a scrap of lace on the floor.
She's bare before me, her pussy glistening in the moonlight, her lips swollen and wet. I spread her thighs wider, my thumbs tracing the soft skin of her inner thighs, feeling the way she trembles under my touch.
I kneel on the bed and lower my head, my breath hot against her slit. She stirs, a soft whimper escaping her lips, but she doesn't wake.
My tongue flicks out, tasting her, and I groan at the sweetness of it. She's dripping, her arousal coating my tongue, her clit already hard and begging for attention. I circle it slowly, teasing, my fingers digging into her thighs to keep her still.
Her hips lift, her body arching toward me, her breath coming in shallow gasps. I suck her clit into my mouth, my tongue working it, my fingers sliding inside her again, curling to find that spot that makes her tremble.
"Heath," she moans, her voice thick with sleep and desire.
I can't wait any longer. The weight of my cock in my hand is heavy, thick, the heat of it branding my palm.
I stroke myself slow, watching her, watching the way her lips part, the way her hips shift, restless, even in sleep.
The sight of her spread open for me, her pussy wet and glistening, makes my pulse roar in my ears.
"Look at you," I murmur, my voice rough. "So fucking perfect. So ready for me."
Her breath hitches, a soft whimper escaping her throat, but her eyes stay closed. I notch the head of my cock against her entrance, the heat of her nearly undoing me. The tip slides in just enough to make her gasp, her back arching off the bed.
I freeze.
She's tight. Too tight. My cock pulses, my balls drawing up, but I force myself to still, my fingers digging into her hips.
Is she a virgin? Fuck. The thought sends a jolt of possessive heat through me, my chest tightening.
"Hallie," I growl, my voice strained. "Baby, you're so fucking tight."
She moans, her hips lifting, trying to take more of me. I pull back, just an inch, my cock slick with her arousal. "I'm gonna go slow," I promise, my thumb brushing over her clit, circling it, teasing it. "Be gentle. Gonna make it good for you."
I push in again, just a little, my jaw clenched. She's so damn tight, her walls clenching around me, trying to pull me deeper. I groan, my hips flexing, my cock sinking another inch. Her breath comes in short, sharp gasps, her fingers tangling in the sheets.
"That's it," I murmur, my voice rough. "Take it, baby. Take all of me."
I slide in deeper, my cock stretching her, filling her. She whimpers, her body trembling, her pussy fluttering around me. I can feel her hymen, thin and resistant, and I pause, my breath ragged.
"You're doing so good," I groan, my thumb still working her clit. "So fucking good."
I push through, my cock breaking through the last barrier, burying myself inside her.
She cries out, her back arching, her eyes flying open.