Page 122 of The Best Kind of Bad

Bending my head, I press my lips to her tattoo. Sealing it with a kiss.

Pushing back, I drag her shorts and her panties off and kneel on the floor, spreading her thighs wide.

She props herself up on her elbows to watch. “Take off your shirt.”

It comes off in one swift movement and then I’m wrapping my arms around her thighs, dragging her perilously close to the edge of the bed.

I kiss her, feathering touches on her inner thigh, charting a course for the apex between her legs. Her hips rock at the light touch and her breath grows ragged. I’m worshipping at her feet. On my knees. Chest full of love and joy and other things that are too big to name.

My curled tongue thrusts inside, moving to suck on her clit the way she likes. I’m not going to tease her. I’m going to make her come again and again. That daisy rises and sways in front of my eyes, like a bloom dancing in the wind. Only when it's trembling, shaking, do I climb to my feet.

My fingers trail across her hips. “Whose pussy is this?”

She’s completely relaxed on the bed. A smile tugs at her lips. “Yours, baby.”

That’s right. Mine.

I shove my shorts off, fist my cock, and nudge it between her folds. She’s wet. Soaking. And my cock glides into her tight center.

She sighs, arching her back. I draw back, slowly, and thrust in again, watching the way her body dances for me.

My heart sings. I was a man who was drowning and now I can finally breathe.

Her gaze finds mine, those pretty honey-colored eyes lock onto mine. I wonder if she can see right into my soul. Would she be frightened by the devotion that burns there?

Those expressive eyebrows dip mischievously. Her fingers brush my shaft as it stretches her pussy. “Who’s cock is this?”

“Yours.” I thrust in deep, lowering my body so that I can hold her in my arms. “I’m all yours, baby girl. My heart. My body. My spirit. It’s all yours. From here to the end of time.”

81.

Marnie

I turn the next page. We’ve readDunea dozen times and I still want to know what happens next. I glance up at my dad and notice that he’s drifted off. His chest rises and falls. Quietly setting the book on the nightstand, I climb to my feet and press a kiss to his forehead.

His hospital bed replaces Uncle Gus’s. The hospice nurse should be by in an hour or so, but I think he’s pretty comfortable for now.

Turning, I draw the thin curtains but leave the window open so the soft breeze can filter in. There’s a wood thrush singing outside his window.

Ed squeezes in as I’m leaving. He likes to lay on the rug at the base of dad’s bed. Turns out he can be an excellent guard dog if the mood strikes him.

It’s a quiet summer morning. The cicadas haven’t started up their droning symphony just yet, but the occasional crack of a hammer punctuates the air.

I walk over to the barn, watching Bo and Skyler install fittings above the barn door.

Skyler catches sight of me and gestures with his chin. “What do you think? They just dropped it off.”

I follow his gaze, catching sight of the sign leaning against the side of the barn.

Mimi’s on the Farm

My heart squeezes, and a little shiver passes through me. My mom always said those shivers were a ghost touching you, and I wonder if it was her hand that brushed my shoulder.

“It’s perfect.”

Bo snaps his measuring tape shut. “Does that placement look good?”

I can see where they intend to hang the sign. “Yes. It’s going to look great. Thanks again for helping out, guys.”

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