Page 38 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
Her legs tremble.
I reach down between her thighs and find her soaked—dripping down her inner thighs, breath hitching with every teasing stroke of my fingers.
“Look at you,” I murmur. “Wrecked just from beingseen.Just a few love taps.”
“I need more,” she whispers. “Please.”
The truth is, I need this too.
I undo my belt slowly, letting the sound fill the room. The way she twitches at that? God. She’s so gone already. I line myself upand rub the head of my cock up and down her wet slit. Fucking heaven. Nothing and no one has ever felt this good. I sink in deep until I’m buried inside her and she’s crying out my name.
“You take me so well,” I growl. “You were made for this.”
I fuck her hard, hips smacking against the backs of her thighs, one hand fisted in her hair, the other gripping her shoulder to keep her steady while she comes undone beneath me.
Her cries echo off the windows. She begs. She breaks. Shelets goand comes on my cock like an angel. And when she’s shaking and breathless, I wrap both arms around her from behind and hold her there.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper.
Her whisper undoes me. “Come for me, sir.”
Restraint is a distant memory. I unleash myself, thrashing until I shatter too. She turns her head just enough for me to kiss her cheek. Her voice is raw. “Thank you.”
I pull out, fall to my knees, and lick her clean from behind while she writhes and begs. Our sweet, salty combination is addictive. She comes again, giving me a whole new mess to lap up. A delicious vicious cycle, until finally, she’s going limp.
I fix her clothes gently and lift her into my lap as we sink onto the office chair together. She rests her head against my chest.
And I don’t say another word about David. Or the photos. Or the war that’s still waiting outside that office door.
Because right now she’s safe. And in my arms, she always will be.
12
HUCK
The school’s too clean.That’s the first thing I notice. Sterile buildings, soft landscaping, everything painted in cheerful colors like that’ll keep the monsters out. But monsters don’t care about playground mulch or motivational banners. Monsters smile for the front office and write checks to the PTA.
According to Wesley, David Oswalt has been a hell of a check writer.
I scan the parking lot from the passenger seat, my shoulders too wide for the Lexus SUV Jessica drives like it’s an extension of her body. Her knuckles are white on the wheel. She hasn’t said a word since we pulled out of the driveway.
“You good?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer right away. Just pulls into the drop-off lane, eyes sharp behind her sunglasses. “I don’t like this,” she mutters. “Feels like we’re walking into something.”
She’s not wrong. But we both know not to say anything with the little ears in the back seat.
With David slimy enough to hire someone to take blackmail pictures, none of us are betting on restraint. I volunteered for morning drop-off duty. Sean and Wesley are fighters, there’s no question about that. But I’m bigger. I’m scarier. Sometimes that bothers me. Today is not one of those times. Because if David’s stupid enough to show his face? I’ll be the one to stop him. With gusto.
The back door opens and Maeve jumps out, backpack slung over one shoulder, braid bouncing. Eli’s slower, more hesitant. His glasses are slightly crooked, and he’s got his hoodie zipped all the way up, even though it’s pushing eighty already.
“Thanks, Jess,” Maeve says, and I get a quick wave from her before she takes off.
Eli lingers. “You’re coming back to pick us up, right?”
Jessica softens. “Of course, baby. We’ll be here.”
That seems to reassure him. He follows Maeve onto the sidewalk.
