34. Stone
STONE
The sight of her on her knees in front of me is too much. I run my fingers through her hair, not giving a shit that she spent hours on it. She helps me, pulling out hidden pins until her long, dark hair is loose around her shoulders.
Now she’s naked except for those silver heels, as undone as I feel on the inside.
I move both hands through her hair again, tipping her head back, and her eyes flutter. She stares up at me with those big hazel eyes. My heart gives a weird little thump, and I know in my bones I want to do more than just make her choke on my dick.
I want to marry her too.
“Stop looking at me like that.” Her voice is husky.
Her gaze drops back to my pants, at the obvious bulge there. Because she could just smirk at me and my body reacts. She undoes my belt. Untucks my shirt, her hands skimming my abdomen for a moment.
I flex for her, smirking at the way the pads of her fingers trip over my abs.
Wordlessly, she unzips my pants and shoves them down. She frees my cock and grips it immediately, squeezing the base before sliding her hand up.
I groan at the contact.
“Suck me off, Sticks,” I order.
She smirks a little, and my dick twitches. As expected.
I don’t expect her to blow me without some sass, but her movements seem almost eager as she leans forward and licks me. She takes me in her mouth, and I watch in awe. Her tongue swirls around me, and I groan when the tip touches the back of her throat.
She pulls her lips off me and meets my gaze. Her pupils are dilated, her lips wet.
“Fuck my mouth,” she whispers.
I twist her hair in my fingers and drag her back on my dick. She goes willingly, her hands going to my ass and squeezing.
Damn .
I rock my hips forward and slide deeper into her mouth. I’m lost in pleasure, in the noises she makes deep in her throat. And when she gags around me, I get harder.
Abruptly, I pull out. I yank her back to her feet and push her against the wall. She stares up at me until I hoist her up.
“Dig those heels into my ass, baby, because you’re in for a ride.”
Her mouth pops open. She complies, wrapping her legs around me, and a second later, I’m sliding into her.
“Much better,” I murmur, kissing her neck.
“My blowing skills aren’t up to your standards?”
“They were too good,” I reply. “But I’d rather fill your cunt with cum than your mouth.”
She tips her head to the side, giving me more room to mark her. My teeth graze her skin, and I suck on the area. Making sure to leave a hickey that’ll stand out like a claiming beacon to anyone and everyone.
“Enjoy this, baby,” I say in her ear. “And remember it later tonight.”
She inhales. Confused, maybe. It’ll make sense when she realizes my true motivation for coming here. And bringing her with me.
But right now, I can’t get enough of her. I ram into her hard enough for her body to hit the wall. If there wasn’t a party going on, it would be clear from the sound what we’re up to. As it is, she’s barely containing her moans. She meets my thrusts, our bodies slapping together.
“Touch yourself,” I manage. “Come with me.”
She wordlessly slips her hand between us. I palm her breast, rolling her nipple in my fingers and pinching it while she brings herself to the edge.
“I’m going to—”
“Good,” I growl. My balls are tight, and it only takes her shuddering orgasm contracting around me to trigger mine.
I close my eyes and bury my face in her neck, my movements only slowing as I fill her. And we stay like that for a long moment, her draped around me, until my mind returns.
We just had sex in my childhood bedroom.
The room I lived in up until I left for college.
I set her feet back on the floor and go for the adjoining bathroom. She’s still standing there when I approach her with a damp washcloth. I clean up her thighs, but I don’t touch her pussy.
“Do me a favor, Sticks?”
She eyes me.
I wipe my dick clean and tuck it away, righting my pants and shirt. It’s a lot easier to pull myself together. I barely got undressed.
“Leave me between your legs.”
Her mouth opens and closes. Her eyes heat, but she otherwise doesn’t say anything.
I turn in a slow circle. “My room used to be a lot more.”
Not sure why I’m telling her this.
“What do you mean?”
I clear my throat. “Well, I don’t know. It was just…”
After Mom left, I begged Dad to move. There were two options: keep the house like a shrine and remind ourselves every day that she left both of us, or start over again.
Instead, he scrubbed our home free from any trace of her. Leaving it distinctly…antiseptic.
Until the step-monster came along anyway.
But removing Mom from the house meant getting rid of the mural she painted on my wall. And donating the quilt she crocheted for me as a kid. All the pictures, save the one on my dresser, were put in a bin and hidden away in the attic.
All the memories of her are collecting dust.
“Stone,” Wren murmurs.
I shake my head. “Sorry. You can stay up here if you want. If you’re not enjoying the party. I’ve just got to talk to my dad.”
She twirls her hair around her finger. “Tempting…”
I kiss her. I meant it to be a quick thing, but there’s no such thing as quick around Wren.
I’m sucked in, leaning down into her, as her lips slide against mine.
Her tongue skims the seam of my lips, and I open for her.
Letting her wind her arms around my neck, pressing her bare breasts to my chest.
She’s going to be the death of me.
And I think I love her for it.
* * *
Now or never.
I finally tore myself away from Wren, promising to be quick. She could hide in my room and then meet me at the car, or we could stay… But staying would lead to more conversations in the morning, and I’m not convinced my dad won’t tell me to get out as soon as I broach the subject.
The party’s on its last legs. My father is drunk, sitting in his favorite wing-backed chair on the back patio with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigar dangling from the fingers of his other. The drink is neat, per usual. Ice is practically sacrilegious.
The chair is normally inside, as it’s his favorite. But I guess Martha decided to take all the good indoor furniture outside for this ridiculous party. It kind of gives him a regal appearance.
A king on his throne.
His eyes are tired, tracking his guests as some make their way to the exit. A few men are left, with cigars in their hands, chatting amongst themselves.
“Stone,” Dad calls, spotting me. “I thought you had slipped out without saying goodnight.”
“I figured we should talk.” I take the seat beside him. “Tonight was a whirlwind.”
He lifts the cigar to his mouth, sucking in a mouthful of smoke and slowly exhaling it. “Indeed. Martha goes all out. What did you do with that girl of yours?”
“She’s upstairs.”
“I’m right here.” Wren comes around the corner, her hair loose around her shoulders. The dress is back in place, molded to her perfect body.
I drag my gaze away from her tits and lock on her face. She sits on my lap.
I frown. Her weight settles on me, and I automatically put my hand on her bare back. She shivers slightly, goosebumps rising on her skin. I let my thumb trace just under the edge of her dress. I’ve been touching her all night, but this feels different. A little more dangerous.
This is in front of my father.
“I’m right here,” she repeats. “Wren Davis.”
Dad purses his lips.
“She was fostered by Evan’s parents, Dad.” My mouth is dry.
I have no fucking idea how I’m going to ask my questions with Wren on my lap. Because as soon as I start talking, she’s going to know I lied to her.
Well.
Omitted.
But it’s the same thing, isn’t it? At the end of the day…
“Ah, yes. The Mitchells. How is Evan?” Dad’s polite, his voice even, but his gaze is not on us anymore. He’s checking out of this conversation.
“Maybe in danger, since Wren’s dad had guys beat up her social worker and steal the file with his parents’ address on it.”
Dad’s attention flicks back to me. Like a shark scenting blood, his gaze sharpens.
Wren shifts.
“Be honest with me, Dad. How could you represent him?”
She stiffens.
I tighten my grip on her waist, keeping her from bolting. Because I know her as well as I know myself. Maybe even better. And right now, she’d love nothing more than to rush away and get the wrong idea.
Or maybe she’d have the right idea.
“I can’t discuss ongoing cases,” my father says, waving his hand.
“This is different,” I argue. “Wren’s life is in danger.”
“Stone—” Wren says.
“Quiet,” I murmur. To my dad, I continue, “Please. We know you’re appealing his conviction. We just need to know if there’s a chance of him getting out—”
“Well, it’s much too late for that.” Dad sighs. He stubs out his cigar and finishes off his drink, then stands. “The appellate court heard our case this week.”
I put Wren on her feet and stand too. “And?”
“And…” Dad shrugs. “As of yesterday, Jessie Davis is a free man.”
Well…fuck.
And that’s when Wren bolts.